NPC LIST
[CHAR] Fire Emblem: Lost Song
- Large Group
- Fandom
- Fantasy
- Advanced
- Medieval
- GM Dio
Join Status:
Apply
GM
Name: Noel Dowling
Age: 24
Race: Beorc
Gender: Male
Affiliated Nation: Daein
Class: Soldier
Inventory: Slim Lance; Javelin
Personality: With a youthful glow and bundle full of energy, Noel has a high spirit that is always rearing to go. He showcases a strong sense of dedication and loyalty to most, doing what is asked of him. He believes that doing and knowing your role will help any situation, but will do more than asked if need be.
Often fair-minded, Noel now takes every single detail into consideration when coming up with a solution, whether the means are good or bad. Growing up he was taught that justice should prevail and override everything but he has learned the hard way that sometimes being just doesn't mean you are being fair to all.
The facade that is the warm and bright face of Noel hides a deeper, darker young man full of self-hatred. In his mind, Noel has given up most of his humanity, believing that death comes for him for the sins that he has done. But the visage he carries is polar opposite of his inner demons, making sure no one knows just how truly sad and empty his shell is.
Background: His story starts off like most of his countrymen in Daein. His father, Ronan, was a soldier in the Daein military living his life protecting his motherland. His mother, Ellyn, was a devoted housewife who took care of the family while his father was off serving the country. Noel went to school up until the twelfth grade and enlisted into the military just like his father and most men in Daein. But before shipping off for training, Noel fell in love with the girl-next-door, Alyse, and married her.
The young Daein man went off to train for one year, training hard and following orders is what he did, but writing weekly letters to the love of his life is what kept him grounded. It was during that time of his training that his wife gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who she named Éowyn. It was a year after his training that he was allowed to return for a month before being shipped off yet again to continue his service.
During his homestay he made it worth his time, spending every minute with his wife and daughter, happily spending as much quality time he could before it was too late. This was a continuous cycle up until he turned twenty-three and his world flipped upside down.
Up until that point, Noel was loyal to Daein, doing everything that was asked of him. He spilled blood for his land, he defended it off from both laguz and beorc raiders and bandits, and never asked for anything more. One day he woke up in a cold, sweat from a feverish dream that had Alyse calling out for him to protect their daughter, and Éowyn crying and calling his name over and over. There was a pain in his heart as tears began rolling down his cheeks, sitting there in his barracks, trying to catch his breath.
The following days after his nightmare, no weekly letter came. Noel asked for a service leave, something he never imagined ever taking as he knew that his father had never done it and wanted to follow in his footsteps, but the aching feeling in his gut and the piercing in his heart knew he needed to head back home.
Upon returning home Noel was struck with the news that his whole family was taken by the stationed platoon that patrolled the surrounding villages. He did whatever he could to gain access to his wife, name dropping whoever he could, showcasing his awards and listing his own services, but to no avail was he given access to his wife or any news of his daughter, even his mother had disappeared without any notice. Attempting to contact his father was useless as he was on a tour throughout Crimea, building relations with their fellow beorc nations.
With no news and no sightings of any of his family members, paranoia began crawling through his mind and weeks passed. What was the reason his family was taken and why was no one talking to him about it? One night changed it all, the night of the Harvest Festival when every person got drunk in celebration of the Autumn harvest, that Noel broke into the jail that his suspected wife was being held.
Once inside he frantically searched each cell for his wife, his child, or his mother, but was only greeted by the grim faces of other prisoners who begged for forgiveness and for a chance for freedom. Their pleas were followed by lies as each person whispered sweet news of his wife, but only if he would free them first. It wasn't until he met with a large, burly man who Noel knew was not of Daein.
The man stood heads above Noel as the metal bars of the cell divided them.
"She was killed, months ago."
The words struck him, his heart ripping in half as he became breathless. Why? Why was Alyse killed? Those questioins flew through his mind, but the man behind the cell could see in his eyes the burning questions Noel wanted to ask.
"The woman you are asking about, she was undesirable. Undesirable to all, both your kin and mine. She comes from a fallen lineage, the tainted ones."
"Was there an older woman or a girl, a little one with her?"
"No."
Again tears fell down his cheeks as his eyes became bloodshot, tightening a grip to the knife beside him as he struck it through the man behind the metal bars in a swift frenzy. "I'm sorry."
Noel left the prison that night changed. He had one thing on his mind, to find his daughter and protect her at all cost. His dream that he had of Alyse was a clue, that she was alive and that she needed to be protected.
Eisenhorn Inquisitor of some Note
Member
Seen
3 hrs ago
WE I L A N D
Name: Weiland Voss
Age: Appears to be in his early 30's, though is around 46 years of age in actuality.
Race: Branded (Raven Blood)
Gender: Male
Affiliated Nation: Begnion Empire
Class: Wyvern Rider
Inventory:
+ Iron Blade
+ Altena - The Wyvern that Weiland has bonded with, on a level that has, mockingly, been noted to almost surpass his loyalty to kin and country. Once having served as the mount of a bandit rider, and rather unpleasantly as well, Weiland spared her life after having unmounted the rider and cut him down. Altena followed him after that point, despite being technically free to return to the wild, and before long Weiland had acclimated to using his swordsmanship from the back of a Wyvern, and her ferocity and terror inducing potential when bearing down on unprepared ranks went well with the Blades that her rider prefers to use over more reasonably sized swords.
+ x2 Vulnerary
Personality:
Weiland follows in a long line of family, in terms of sheer bloody minded determination. Voss' have routinely been noted for being willing to dig their heels in, figuratively speaking and sometimes literally, and push forward in whatever task has gotten itself embedded into, in this case, his head. While some argue this is merely being stubborn and beligerant, Weiland understands that sometimes he needs to yield, short term, for a long term goal but will still see something out to its end, no matter what. This makes him quite the free lancer since, once he accepts coin, he will be damn certain to see things through once he decides for certain on his path.
If facing down an enslaved wyvern and its pissed off bandit rider on foot wasn't an indication, Weiland has no qualms staring down just about anything without fear. Without fear isn't accurate, he certainly knows fear and is afraid of things, but it won't stop him from doing whatever he needs to do. Indeed, a fear of heights should have prevented him from being a Wyvern Rider at all, but the bond he shared with Altena gave him reason to overcome said fear. Given a reason, determination and a refusal to let his fears control him means that, as far as other parties are concerned, he has no fear and acts like a fearless freelancer, living from one job to the next.
There is certainly a grand deal more going on in his head, or even in his past, but good luck getting him to open up. Equal parts due to concern over prejudice over his Branded state and having learned to hide it, and the fact that he may end up opposed to former employers after a job was finished, means that getting actual truths out of Weiland is not easy. A lack of trust coupled with a necessary level of discretion due to being Branded has spiraled into an outright secretive nature, to a fault. Situations where opening up a bit and asking for help have spiraled into far messier problems due to his refusal to even speak on the job he is doing. Even worse, he'll lie to someone's face if he has to talk about what he is doing, various small talk about one's self, or otherwise avoid giving away anything.
Background:
Originally from the south western regions of Begnion, Weiland knew full well the stigmata his lineage carried with him from an early age, his father having fallen for a Laguz woman, though who she was remained a mystery to Weiland due to her passing in childbirth. True of all Branded, a brand was at the base of his neck, though it remains easily concealed as his father typically ensured his attire had suitable collars to not readily expose the brand. Learning how to use a sword from his father, Jericho Voss, in an effort to ensure Weiland could protect himself from those that would mean him harm should his secret lineage come to light, he would eventually employ this tendency to use Blades, much like his father does, in mercenary work. So he would depart from home, heading further into Begnion to find work selling his sword, rather than enlist in the army and risk inspection revealing his brand and forcing him to flee his home nation.
Weiland would find success, mostly in protecting traders and nobles from bandits, and even the odd job hunting down bandits to break up bands of them, though word reached him of a rather lucrative offer to deal with a wyvern riding bandit lord near the border of Daein. He found the, to his surprise, woman offering the contract and she directed him to deal with the man however he saw fit. Heading into the hills, he would end up ambushing the bandit and a few of his cohorts, though he nearly lost his life facing down an enraged wyvern rider with nothing but his iron blade. The incident cost him an eye, though in inflicting the loss, the bandit had left himself open to be pulled down from the wyvern, who retreated from the two once freed. Without the Wyvern, the bandit was made short work of, and after tending to his injuries, Weiland would return to be paid for his efforts.
To his surprise, the Wyvern followed him, and the woman who hired him informed him that Altena, the wyvern in question, used to serve her now deceased husband. The man had been murdered in his sleep, and the wyvern kidnapped, prompting the rather sudden and generous offer to see things turned to normal. She had not asked that the wyvern be spared, thinking her lost as a war mount to a bandit, and implored that Weiland at least let Altena accompany him, which he begrudgingly agreed to. This would be the start of a rather notable working relationship, Weiland seeming to have a natural talent in dealing with the Wyvern, seeming to communicate on an instinctive level with Altena, and they would continue to wander and sell their services, now as wyvern rider instead of an unmounted mercenary.
After initially agreeing to travel with Altena, when he was around 32 years old, it took him several months to even work up the gall to use her as a mount just for travels sake. After that, and after taking a 'vacation' to the mountains to overcome his fear of heights and to bond with Altena further, he would focus on training and getting himself used to fighting from Wyvern back. This would span several years, and also helped in Altena growing accustomed to a rider that was not a slaver. This period of training would end up extending into a several year span, living off the coin he had made after starting as a mercenary just after his 18th birthday up until he took this several year break to train and grow accustomed to both flying and mounted combat. Shortly after his 36th birthday, he returned to acting as a sellsword, this time as a mounted wyvern rider instead of simply a mercenary, putting into practice the training he had undergone over the several year period.
He continues to write his father routinely, and has successfully kept his Branded status hidden as a sellsword. Coupled with never sticking around for too long after a job, he has a steady supply of coin, though after his father passed on from natural causes, he had a place to call home. Yet just retiring and hiding out on the border of Begnion did not suit him, so he would return whenever he needed to rest, or lay low for a few weeks, before departing once more with Altena ever at his side.
After several close calls near the Daein border, Weiland's nature as a Branded was exposed to a group of vigilantes that tracked down those of impure blood and punished them as they saw fit. Normally, a handful of bandits would not be much of a concern to Weiland, but between the vigilantes being well organized, well equipped, and specifically gunning for him now, he needed to make himself scarce for some time. Rumors were that Hatari was a paradise and safe haven for any and all, Branded included, who could reach it. Pilgrimages were also known to make their way out there, so after giving false indications he was heading for Crimea, he made a hard march towards his home, to stock up on supplies, before starting to look for a proper pilgrimage out towards Hatari. The word left a bad taste in his mouth, but he knew a con when he saw it, so he was confident he could avoid any number of false attempts and find a proper one before his pursuers realized they'd been had and caught up with him.
Lord of Evil Body of a man, heart of a Chupacabra
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Garret
Name: Garret Kilroy
Age: 29
Race: Beorc
Gender: M
Affiliated Nation: None
Class: Thief
Inventory: Iron dagger, lockpicking tools.
Personality: Garret is a conscientious man, in a way. When taking on a task it's a toss up on whether or not he'll finish it. Garret faces the reality that there are tasks simply too costly for the benefit they give, but when he stands to gain enough, he'll give everything for it. At times it goes out of the realm of conscientious and turns into plain stubbornness. Garret keeps a certain pride in his work, but he knows a lost cause when he sees one. Even so, there are things he won't give up on.
Complimenting this nature is Garret's cautiousness. He doesn't take big risks and he dislikes big unknowns. He never fights a fight he can't win and tries to keep variables within his reach. He's pragmatic enough to know there's only so much he can do, but he makes the best use of what he has.
What holds Garret back from success is his misanthropy. He's snarky and sarcastic to others and tends to bite back when confronted. His caution, pride and mistrust has made him into a social porcupine, which only compounds the issues he has. Still, he seems to lose his edge when drinking and can be downright amiable when drunk. But that only more plainly reveals the palpable line he draws between him and other people.
Background:
Garret's childhood began with a cabin in the woods, where he and his family lived peacefully. His mother, father, and 2 siblings survived on nature's bounty in one of Crimea's forests. They hunted, gathered and scraped together a life there, and at night they looked at the stars shining above, far away from human hands. Frankly, it was a life Garret hated. His days were spent training with his father, a great ranger. Day in, day out, tracking, shooting and surviving. Garret's apparent lack of interest did nothing to stop his father's perfectionism and he was forced to spend his days locked in an endless cycle of training. His only solace during those days was his mother, a kind and patient woman, who would tell him and his siblings stories of the outside world. Young Garret dreamed of that world, despite his parents' warnings. No matter how bad it was, surely it was better than what he had. Soon enough, Garret encountered the outside world in the worst way possible.
Despite their best efforts to be self-sufficient, trips to the local village were a necessity for goods they couldn't procure from nature. When this happened Garret's father went alone while the rest of the family stayed at home. The children were too young, he'd said, and his mother had a strange mark on her arm which apparently prevented her from going. Garret had never understood the significance of that mark until later, though even that wouldn't have prevented what had happened.
Garret's mother had left to pick mushrooms but had been out for too long, so Garret went to look for her. What he found instead was her body, flecked with blood, surrounded by knights in armor. He sat quietly in a bush, watching and waiting, hoping the worst was not true. He burned the appearance of the knights, and particularly what looked to be their leader, in his mind, focusing on their emblems - a stylized dragon, or perhaps a wyvern. They left soon enough and Garret went to his mother's body. There he faced the truth; his mother was dead.
When his father came home Garret told him what happened and implored him to take revenge, but his father refused to move. Angry, Garret asked for the reason why. "Political power" was the phrase uttered, but Garret had scarcely registered it before he'd gone out the door. He had already decided he would leave one day, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. And so he left, abandoning the bow, swearing to estrange himself from his father's teachings, and departed for the wider world.
And thus, in his teenage years, he became a runaway. Just another street urchin running amok in a small town in Crimea, with nothing but the clothes on his back. He was introduced to the wider world quickly when a thief stole what meager gold he had. A prelude for what was to come, though he did not know it yet. He learned his lessons the hard way, building up something one day and losing it the next. Even so, he never forgot his goal. He slowly made his way up, gathering information about what he saw that day. He found out about the nation of Daein, their hatred of the Laguz and what it meant to be branded. Then, in a fateful encounter, he found a name to a face. The troupe of armoured knights passed through the quiet town and he finally learned about his enemy. A troupe of soldiers said to be on a mission to hunt down Laguz, their leader famous in their homeland of Daein.
Thrilled at having his revenge close at hand Garret took this information to the authorities. But they did nothing. To move against the military force of another nation needed more concrete evidence than the statement of a street urchin, and it was clear that the local law enforcement didn't want to deal with it. They told Garret that they would try something, so he waited. But as time wore on he started losing faith in them. At some point he realised they weren't even trying. Disillusioned with authority, he decided to try other means.
The time came when he decided not to fight against thieves and rogues, but to join them instead. He lent his skills to a bandit group, learning their ways and the ways of the world. He learned of the underground and realised the opportunities it presented for his revenge. The group was disbanded by the local militia soon enough but he had learned all he needed. He became a wandering sellsword known for his accuracy at range, survival skills, and prickliness, as well as his tendency to accept any kind of job that payed well enough. He traveled across Crimea towards Daein, always keeping an ear out for information on his mother's murderers. But he had no way of knowing it would be a longer journey than he thought.
He spent years in Daein, taking jobs and learning what he could about the armoured troupe, but it was difficult to know exactly what they were doing. They were moving furtively, leaving scant traces. He picked up all he could, piecing together a story. Eventually he verified his information from a trustworthy information dealer. The troupe had been tasked with finding Hatari, the legendary desert city. Garret's stance on the illusive utopia was the same as many others, one of heavy disbelief. Even so, if the troupe was looking for it then so would he. If they were headed to the same place they would cross places eventually. Garret would have his revenge, and he would let nothing stop him.
Count Cuddles
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
Count Cuddles
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
Name: Nocello Vyst
Age: 71
Race: Beorc
Gender: Male
Affiliated Nation: ‘Born of Begnion the only home I have known is Crimea, but alas I cannot devote myself to a single power for we all rest under the same stars, the same shared fate.’
Class: Mage
Inventory: Always carries with him a fire and Elwind tome with him for self defense.
As well he makes sure to always have a telescope and tripod for star gazing and his star charts, both complete and one’s he is currently mapping. As well as the tools need to do so.
Incomplete Magic Tome: Nocello himself is still unsure what the final form of this spell will be, but it is a spell he has been working on for the majority of his life time, the tome is still unfinished and has no power as of yet.
Personality: Nocello is a man of earnest and devoted study. In this can be found his strongest character, and greatest faults. He has struggled his entire life to create meaningful connections with other people, largely due to a lack of trying, there was always something more important, more pressing. Thus he struggles empathizing with the common plights of others though he has a wealth of knowledge and experience. He also scoffs at the concept of your nation defining you or your beliefs, and believes all conflicts rise out of a foolish nationalistic pride that should not exist, as we all share presence under the same Divinity of the Stars. However if there is anything his long years of study have taught him, it is patience, and stubborn devotion. There is no problem without a proper solution in his mind, and no question without an answer if one simply wishes to apply themselves, he believes self-worth lies not in contribution to a larger group, nor the acceptance of others but in knowing that you have pursued your own personal passion, whatever it may be. Loyalty to oneself and your goals should come before all else.
Despite all of his tendencies however, in his old age (though he does not wish to admit it himself) he has begun to question his solitude, and will not hesitate to share his knowledge with others, to help others if he has the tools to do so. What would have been the point of his pursuit all his life if that information just sat on the pages of a tome so few would read? This often comes off as a strict, almost lecture like dispensing of information that may seem harsh, but comes from a good place.
Background:
Nocello was born in Begnion, to a religious sect that believed in ‘A Divinity hidden in the Stars.’ This group stuck largely to itself, observing the stars and studying ancient tomes, however eventually the ‘heretical view’ was eventually forced out of the Theocratic country, it fled to Crimea, when he was only 17, and reestablished itself there. This experience led him to have a great distrust and even disdain for others outside his sect for many years, viewing them as ignorant and savage, scared of new ideas and hateful of those that pursued newer and greater knowledge.
This view only caused him to retreat further into his own research, devoting every night to observing the stars, every morning studying his people’s archives and sleeping only when he had to.
In the stars he searched for the answers to the countless questions of the world, he searched for the very face of the Divine Being among them, the keys to solving the strife and suffering of the world.
In his many years he has even began writing his own magical tome, the nature of the magic even still a mystery to himself, he simply feels he is being ‘guided by the stars’ in this endeavor.
As he has grown older however he has realized that he has very few memories outside the library or his observatory, and several months ago he noted something in the night sky, a star seemed to call from the horizon, drawing him there. Towards the deserts of Hatari, he has gathered his research materials and struck out on a pilgrimage now. To unravel the mysteries in the stars, experience the world he has so long ignored and perhaps find what he has lacked in his long life.
Already on his journey he has witnessed many things that only assured him that the world was in terrible shape, villages with hungry children, cities cramped and filthy, farmers turned to banditry and it has only steeled him in his drive to take his knowledge and do true good with it, has resolved him to finally affect the world he has ignored for so long.
The pictures size is big but this is the one i found i liked.
Name: Cam Yasha
Age: 34
Race: Laguz (Fallen)
Gender: Female
Affiliated nation: “I don’t care, I was born in a dark Daein dungeon full of others who had all their rights taken away to be sold off and held in a different dark dungeon somewhere. No one came, I owe no one my allegiance aside from myself and those that have put coin in my purse.”
Class: Myrmidon
Inventory: Iron Sword, a number of small throwing knives and a short dagger. Cam’s life is carried in the pack on her back. A bedroll for winter, other wise she lays out under the stars on a thin blanket. Her coin purse, a length of rope and small pouches of spices and basic herbal medicines.
Personality: Cam is as abrasive as sand paper, and about as trusting as she is abrasive. To her the world is not black and white, but it is not gray, it is simply black.
A pessimist in all things, do not count on her to ever offer up the pleasant suggestion to get out of a situation, only the most direct way. And sadly if you aren’t the one paying her, or if that amount isn’t worth sticking around, don’t expect her to have your back all that well.
She does not enjoy cities, or towns, or villages, essentially she doesn’t enjoy being around people, and tries to avoid it where she can, preferring being alone and out doors. The stars in the sky are more comforting to her than the presence of another person.
She has an intense distrust of everyone, Beorc and Laguez, the Beorc because Beorc used her as a toy for their amusement, Laguez because none ever came to help her. Both are equally pathetic and self-serving.
‘Species doesn’t matter, the strong will exert themselves to live comfortably, and the weak will bend at the knee and kiss the ground the strong walk upon in order to survive, that is the order of things. Don’t let anyone try to high road you into thinking it’s any different. We’re all equally depraved.’
It’s very possible to say that she no longer wishes to be close to others but the truth is she is often alone, craving others but as she has never known companionship she herself does not understand this want. However no matter what she always ends up walking into a town somewhere, telling herself she needs work… and always taking her sweet time to find it.
Background: Cam was born in a dark and moldy dungeon in the fort of a Daein noble who was in the business of catering to other nobles rather exotic tastes.
She never knew her mother, she never knew a people, she never knew a country.
The first half of her life was spent being bought, used in unspeakable ways, sold when they were bored, bought again, used again, sold again, bought again, used again, sold again, bought, used, sold, bought used sold.
She wasn’t sure how many times.
She has had two children, and never held either.
The day fire claimed the forest, the town and the fort where she ‘lived’ was the first time she felt ‘fortune’ in her life. The first day she stepped fully into the light without shackles. And though she was lost with no where to go, those first breaths, with smoke in the air, burning ash under her toes, she was free and in control.
It was terrifying, it was paralyzing but after she took the first step, then another, she was running, and she didn’t stop, she was worried, her face felt strange, the muscles moved in a way she had never felt, and when she collapsed tired at the side of a river to drink, she saw something new upon her face.
A smile, and for the first time in life she understood. With as terrible as the world was, there was still joy. The joy of choosing which direction she would walk, the joy of knowing there was no she needed to be, nothing and no one she needed to please. Accept herself.
It took time, but slowly she learned to survive, slowly through many fights she lost and paid for behind bars and back alleys she learned how to defend herself, then fight and win.
She has never lingered anywhere to long, met many people, but made no friends. Though you are sure to find a few people with fond memories of one kind or another with her, she has never bothered committing others to memory.
Recently an old man wished to employ her services as a body guard in his travels to Hatari, though at first she refused that night her thoughts and dreams were saturated with the image of a sprawling desert, with something in or beyond those sands calling her. She accepted the job the next day and has traveled the continent with him.
She has seen this old man try to dispense help to others with knowledge and good nature, sparing coin where he could, to her it is both alien and in her mind a farce. If he really wanted to help others he would have done it decades ago.
Name: Cam Yasha
Age: 34
Race: Laguz (Fallen)
Gender: Female
Affiliated nation: “I don’t care, I was born in a dark Daein dungeon full of others who had all their rights taken away to be sold off and held in a different dark dungeon somewhere. No one came, I owe no one my allegiance aside from myself and those that have put coin in my purse.”
Class: Myrmidon
Inventory: Iron Sword, a number of small throwing knives and a short dagger. Cam’s life is carried in the pack on her back. A bedroll for winter, other wise she lays out under the stars on a thin blanket. Her coin purse, a length of rope and small pouches of spices and basic herbal medicines.
Personality: Cam is as abrasive as sand paper, and about as trusting as she is abrasive. To her the world is not black and white, but it is not gray, it is simply black.
A pessimist in all things, do not count on her to ever offer up the pleasant suggestion to get out of a situation, only the most direct way. And sadly if you aren’t the one paying her, or if that amount isn’t worth sticking around, don’t expect her to have your back all that well.
She does not enjoy cities, or towns, or villages, essentially she doesn’t enjoy being around people, and tries to avoid it where she can, preferring being alone and out doors. The stars in the sky are more comforting to her than the presence of another person.
She has an intense distrust of everyone, Beorc and Laguez, the Beorc because Beorc used her as a toy for their amusement, Laguez because none ever came to help her. Both are equally pathetic and self-serving.
‘Species doesn’t matter, the strong will exert themselves to live comfortably, and the weak will bend at the knee and kiss the ground the strong walk upon in order to survive, that is the order of things. Don’t let anyone try to high road you into thinking it’s any different. We’re all equally depraved.’
It’s very possible to say that she no longer wishes to be close to others but the truth is she is often alone, craving others but as she has never known companionship she herself does not understand this want. However no matter what she always ends up walking into a town somewhere, telling herself she needs work… and always taking her sweet time to find it.
Background: Cam was born in a dark and moldy dungeon in the fort of a Daein noble who was in the business of catering to other nobles rather exotic tastes.
She never knew her mother, she never knew a people, she never knew a country.
The first half of her life was spent being bought, used in unspeakable ways, sold when they were bored, bought again, used again, sold again, bought again, used again, sold again, bought, used, sold, bought used sold.
She wasn’t sure how many times.
She has had two children, and never held either.
The day fire claimed the forest, the town and the fort where she ‘lived’ was the first time she felt ‘fortune’ in her life. The first day she stepped fully into the light without shackles. And though she was lost with no where to go, those first breaths, with smoke in the air, burning ash under her toes, she was free and in control.
It was terrifying, it was paralyzing but after she took the first step, then another, she was running, and she didn’t stop, she was worried, her face felt strange, the muscles moved in a way she had never felt, and when she collapsed tired at the side of a river to drink, she saw something new upon her face.
A smile, and for the first time in life she understood. With as terrible as the world was, there was still joy. The joy of choosing which direction she would walk, the joy of knowing there was no she needed to be, nothing and no one she needed to please. Accept herself.
It took time, but slowly she learned to survive, slowly through many fights she lost and paid for behind bars and back alleys she learned how to defend herself, then fight and win.
She has never lingered anywhere to long, met many people, but made no friends. Though you are sure to find a few people with fond memories of one kind or another with her, she has never bothered committing others to memory.
Recently an old man wished to employ her services as a body guard in his travels to Hatari, though at first she refused that night her thoughts and dreams were saturated with the image of a sprawling desert, with something in or beyond those sands calling her. She accepted the job the next day and has traveled the continent with him.
She has seen this old man try to dispense help to others with knowledge and good nature, sparing coin where he could, to her it is both alien and in her mind a farce. If he really wanted to help others he would have done it decades ago.
Karkinos enfant terrible
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Name: Afra ibn Saphar al-Rashid ('Afra, daughter of Saphar, the Rightly-Guided')
Age: 236
Race: Laguz
Gender: Female
Affiliated Nation: Goldoa
Class: White Dragon
________
Inventory:
- Bronze upright shield with Daein painted flagship; carried on her back.
- Laguz Stone (x2) — 3 uses each.
- Concoction (x2) — 6 uses each.
- Gallon jug of beer (x2).
- No armor.
⬥ half-shifting for intermittent scales, armored appendages, horns, and tail. cuts dexterity and offers only minimal defense. nonetheless, traits can manifest separately and instantaneously.
⬥ full-shifting into a quadruped White Dragon form. wingless but with peak agility, resistance, and power. gains access to breath. can sustain this form for upwards of ___ .
⬥ dragon sense to subconsciously locate other dragon tribe laguz within a 50-meter distance.
⬥ full-shifting into a quadruped White Dragon form. wingless but with peak agility, resistance, and power. gains access to breath. can sustain this form for upwards of ___ .
⬥ dragon sense to subconsciously locate other dragon tribe laguz within a 50-meter distance.
My armor is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt... and my breath death!
— The Hobbit or There and Back Again
Personality —
Of silver tongue and red soul. The ᴀꜰʀᴀ welded from her experiences is, primarily, ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴛ, believing herself gifted, of high order, and carrying herself with similar loftiness. This pride runs deep; it permits she have her own opinions separate of allegiance. The objective sort, she holds others to this as well.
AFRA is far from a patriot, but nonetheless proud of her heritage. She is distasteful of disguising her attributes; when she can boast, she will. Horns never hurt anyone.
The Goldoans tend to see the world in reds, whites, and blacks, to which ᴀꜰʀᴀ agrees and disagree. She has the speed and wit of a White Dragon but she knows dignity and personal duty like a Black Dragon. And much like a Red Dragon, she is welded hot, a tactician outside of battle but a cognoscente of it and adversity in-general. Many Goldoans fear their feral instincts; they train in half-shifting: half-measures. She may do the same, but she will assure you, when there is a time to release the dragon, she will take it.
Sustaining transformation is two-fold; physical wellness is pertinent, as is an unclouded conscience and mental state. Cool-headed ᴄʜᴀʀɪꜱᴍᴀ: ᴀꜰʀᴀ'ꜱ forte. She distinguishes herself from other Goldoans in being grounded. Her perfect evening has a little banter, some tale-telling, a good ale or two. ᴀꜰʀᴀ has a genuine, unfettered curiosity of Tellus at large, gleaned over her nose. Fixated with authority, she projects a right to others’ concerns, especially those they refuse to tell her, the dark ones that flit in their eyes and smell of fear. She wants to know others strengths and flaws for realist purposes too — forbid they trip over one another in the case of bandantry. And who else to protect all these relative children with armor, swords, and staves but the fire-breathing dragon?
Her pride runs deep. ᴀꜰʀᴀ has simply decided she likes the Beorc and the other Laguz, but overlooks their dynamics like the opulent patron of a theatre performance. ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴᴇᴅ, detached, dispassionate. She thinks too highly of herself to open up emotionally in the conversations she creates; she simply thinks too less of others to allow them similar privilege. Her orotundity can realize as social inelegance, overstepping and asking too much of of others’ punitive little lives.
Background —
For many years — ‘many,’ distant and incomprehensible as that word becomes throughout a lifetime, either a true 'many' years, enough for kings to keel and earth itself to shift, or a short-lived 'many,' much like a 'decade' or a 'century' in the Beorc languages. Nevermind which; somewhen, it was decided the surviving members of the Dragon Tribe would not consult with the wider world for political and economic matters, period. Somewhen, there was warring, havoc, awry, and perhaps it was spurred by Beorc bigotry or rival Lagaz pride — perhaps it was spurred by those beastial, temperamental urges underlying much of Goldoan way of life.
Amidst the amelioration of outside Tellus, the Dragon Tribe stood alone with few contributions to give, fewer cares to do so, but the massacre of the Heron Laguz drew some to raise their heads from their stupors. Perhaps too late; some charity was issued to the remains of Serenes, ferried over by fringe royals on order of His Majesty. Before the tragedy, ᴀꜰʀᴀ was a marionette to the purposes of the king and his court. Listless, bemoaning the liability of her pure White Dragon lineage, in her developmental hundred-years — this was her first taste of consequence. She remembers the scale of destruction, the tomes, literature, paintings, property, and the lives reduced to ash before her eyes. Many of these things Goldoa would never know were lost forever. Even the Ravens and Hawks which gathered from far away bore mechanications entirely foreign — arbitrary to her tribe, but fascinating nonetheless. And what if they were devastated too? Would it be any less a loss even if it occurred opposite of a mountain range?
Truthfully, her tutelage spoke of Tellus as many Beorc and Laguz learned of Goldoa: existing in legend and fallible oral lore. Stories impartially recollected but with that underlying, poisoning whisper of danger far-off. The Dragon Tribe is a fearful race, ᴀꜰʀᴀ decided, upon her foray into the real world. They lay on hoards of antiquated goods and ideas, pontificating, (she pontificated) when their nobles are all stiff-lipped and decided through caste. The damned castes — the idea that a Black Dragon’s might and their authority were equatable at all. While ᴀꜰʀᴀ grew into her intrepidity, she grew in accomplishment, and controversy inevitably rose as she advocated interventionist policy even the long-standing pacifist king tagged as ‘too radical.’ She substituted her grandfather’s place as head tactician when he retired from politics — the title for her mostly proved a lure for her strong opinions to be heard. She wanted Goldoa to become more than legendary but viable to the wider world. She wanted participation in the United Bird Tribes! She wanted trade relations with neighboring Laguz nations! But what ᴀꜰʀᴀ aspired for herself was to become an ambassador, a diplomat who travelled beyond nation, who represented the shining qualities of the Dragon Tribe: their confidence, their intellect.
Goldoa, making small, hesitant steps, met none of ᴀꜰʀᴀ'ꜱ demands but did appoint several court members, including her, to representative status, together known as the Knighted Chancellery. ᴀꜰʀᴀ happily sacrificed one of the higher positions in Goldoan court. But, as usual, she would take full advantage. The Chancellery was assigned cursory ambassador tasks — observing foreign climate and directly informing His Majesty; attending social events to improve relationships between themselves and Lagaz nations, many which eyed them warily for this very new direction in Goldoan policy. The Chancellery was small and split between Gallia and Phoenicis. Wingless as she was, it was considered more convenient for ᴀꜰʀᴀ to convene with the Beast Tribes to the north — Gallia was certainly most convenient for her ambitions.
This was as she saw it: From racially-motivated pirate attacks off the coasts of Phoenicis to the legacy of anti-Lagaz expression from Daein to the Begnion Empire, if any Lagaz tribe wanted lasting peace, the conversation would have to include the Beorc. Objectively, there was no other option. Gallia, in this regard, was forward-thinking as its alliance with Crimea proved. ᴀꜰʀᴀ wanted to begin there and move clockwise.
ᴀꜰʀᴀ regularly attended meetings between both Gallian and Crimean nobility, and a historical inclination to the Lagaz made relations easy to maintain; that was one country sealed — almost too easy when, meanwhile, countries like Daein sat on millennia of injustices, loath to any cross-racial conversation at all. She could request reposition there to no avail; it was unspeakable, dangerous. And ᴀꜰʀᴀ was sick of meekness.
As recalcitrant as she was in regards to Goldoan’s caste system, ᴀꜰʀᴀ knew change warranted risk. She took matters into her own hands and she went for befitting White Dragon subterfuge. Obviously, this went beyond the breadth of her authority but she couldn’t become a “persona non grata” if His Majesty, nor foreign rulers, knew not the miller’s daughter she impersonated on the streets. Apparently, the Chancellery had a resource for Daein socio-political climate after all.
If anyone were to glean her insubordination, ᴀꜰʀᴀ'ꜱ would be stripped of her position altogether. Nevertheless:
This was, in ᴀꜰʀᴀ'ꜱ opinion, the sole convenience of the human form: disguise (pointed ears aside), which she adopted guilty. All the same, in the heart of the lion’s den, the ‘Children of Wisdom’’s stomping grounds, even over these supposed ‘many’ years that dissipated like sea foam — it didn’t mean little happened. ‘Many’ things — that is a genuine, record-shattering ‘many’ — changed, though mostly in a gradual, time-permitting sense. South of the mountains, a day is a week is a month until a year passes, but the Beorc track all of these like they do the stars and seas. Their world is a running wheel. Time moves.
ᴀꜰʀᴀ was reminded, quite starkly, of her mortality compared to their own; most crucially, she was reminded to appreciate moments as they came. She learned the glory of the unknown, of threat of exposure and expulsion, of triumph and adventure. She learned about pubs and drank enough to poison a cow — not a dragon. She lived a second life with far less gradiosity than the real thing but which managed to feel a spot more fulfilling. And the people she’s met, so far, have been the most important as they can be when you live for upwards of a thousand years.
Time began to move and ᴀꜰʀᴀ began to wander. The miller’s daughter catches wind of the Desert Hare on the outskirts on the kingdom. There is something enticing about it. It has been several months, anyway; the Chancellery will soon be expected to report to the king after years away from court. Likely, it is the most inopportune time to go.
A lone dragon slings assorted goods on her shoulder and swaggers onto a circle of covered wagons. She is dressed like the impoverished but curtsies like a princess. And a demon’s horns mar her forehead. She offers to protect and guide as only she — she is convinced — can do. She wants to make the most of dwindling time.
original portrait by kogami akito
" Trust me, I have... connections. But a wise dragon hoards her secrets. "
" Trust me, I have... connections. But a wise dragon hoards her secrets. "
The Knighted Chancellery & Dragons of Goldoa
_____________
_____________
Friends & Fellows
_____________
_____________
TBA
.
Garet The Shadoki Master
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
I found this picture at graeya-dnd.wikia.com/wiki/File:939052…, and I do not claim credit for it in any way, shape, or form.
JORAM J’YORE
Name: Joram J’Yore
Age: 23 years
Race: Beorc
Gender: M
Affiliated Nation: Crimea
Class: Bow Knight
Inventory:
~ Bronze Bow
~ Killer Bow
~ Vulnerary
~ Epona – A nine-year-old brown stallion, Epona was raised in Joram’s hometown and trained to carry a horse archer.
~ Wooden Recorder
~Compass
~Telescope
Personality: Known in his hometown for his integrity, Joram has a moral compass that usually leads him to be straightforward in his associations with other people. He tends to stick to telling the truth and to speaking up when he sees something as morally wrong. This hasn’t won him many friends, but Joram isn’t looking for many friends.
Over time, Joram has become untrusting of people – he’s met with too many conflicts and disappointments in his life, both with Beorc and Laguz. He tends to push away anyone who seems to be trying to help him and relies mostly on himself and the few people he feels he can trust. This, too, makes it hard for him to socialize with anyone.
After some considerable time and experience, Joram has learned patience in training and in combat. He knows that being too hasty can lead to a missed shot or a botched job. He tries to think and act, rather than react, in the face of new or sudden changes. He believes in having a calm(er) mind.
Background: Joram was an only child, born and raised to be a hunter and horse-archer in a village southeast of Castle Canteus, near the edge of a forest on the border between Crimea and Gallia. Around eight years of age, Joram and his father stumbled across two Cat Laguz in the nearby forest – a young woman, Maria Laurent, and her six-year-old sister, Jayde. They took them back to the village, where Joram’s mother tended to their injuries. Maria said they were fleeing an abusive situation, and that’s all she’d say about it.
A Beorc and a few Cat Laguz men came to the village, searching for a thief who’d stolen an important tome, but they had no luck finding the thief. Joram’s father certainly didn’t tell them about the Laurent girls. Late that night, though, Joram woke up to find Maria stealing supplies and preparing to leave the village. He managed to convince her to stay, though it was by shaming her with the thought of abandoning her little sister. He then suggested that she talk to his father about staying and living in the J’Yore home. Maria and Jayde were effectively adopted by Joram’s parents, and he and Jayde soon grew as close together as if they had been born into the same family. They both learned to not run on only emotion in different situations, and they enjoyed activities such as hunting or playing hide-and-seek. Despite a few villagers who still despised Laguz, the J’Yore family continued taking care of the Laurent girls.
By the time he turned 19 years old, Joram had trained enough to become a competent Bow Knight, coming close to winning the local horse-archery competition a few times. One morning, a mercenary Sword Knight rode into town, warning them of bandits who were approaching the village. After the Knight left to rejoin his mercenary band, who were also approaching, Joram and a few other villagers were able to get their weapons together quickly while women and children gathered in the village hall. Then the bandits appeared, demanding that any Laguz in town be handed over, or they’d destroy the village. Joram recognized their leader, Terzo Mullane, as the Beorc who’d come looking for a thief years ago.
When the village chief refused, the fighting began, and Joram and the other defenders were pushed back toward the village hall. The Sokolov Mercenaries appeared shortly, routing the bandits and driving them away. Among those who died were the village chief and Jayde’s sister. Some of the villagers began blaming the J’Yore family and Jayde for that day’s destruction, and Mullane had threatened to return for Jayde. After some arguing, the mercenaries’ leader, a Hawk Laguz called Eberhard Sokolov, agreed to take Joram (whose life had been saved) and Jayde as recruits to replace a couple mercenaries who’d also died.
Three years later, the Sokolov Mercenaries took on a job to investigate a ruined fort in Begnion, thought to be the hiding place of some troublesome bandits. During this investigation, Joram and Jayde found a cellar with a locked door. Despite their doubts, they were curious and tried to open it. When they broke it open, a spell-trap knocked them unconscious. They woke up later when Eberhard found them; the bandits had (unsuccessfully) ambushed the mercenaries while Joram and Jayde were in the cellar. They now had tattoos branded on their right shoulders - the emblem of Daein. Since this could draw unwelcome attention, they decided to keep the tattoos hidden from view. They also discovered that Jayde couldn’t transform into a Cat most of the time, and when she could, she'd lose a lot of control over her actions and forget who was on whose side. Joram guessed that the spell-trap had a curse set in it for any Laguz who was present when it triggered.
A few days later, Eberhard took Joram and Jayde to meet a Druid named Karam Ek, whom they told about the spell-trap and Jayde’s curse. After an examination, Karam stated that he didn’t know of a cure in Tellius, but he suspected that one could be found in Hatari, if they were willing to take the journey across the Desert of Death. Joram doubted that such a journey, or such a cure, was possible. He and Jayde decided they’d rather return home while Karam researched possible counter-curses. As a partial fix, Karam gave Jayde a Beaststone, which allowed her to transform more easily and regain some of her self-control.
When the J'Yore's returned to their village, they discovered that the new village chief was one of the villagers who’d opposed harboring any Laguz, and Joram’s parents had died of disease one year prior. The chief allowed Joram and Jayde to stay for one night only, to rest from their journey. During that night, Joram did a bit of investigating and discovered that the chief had been bribed by Mullane, the bandit leader from three years prior – if Joram or Jayde ever turned up again, they were to be detained until Mullane could come for them. Joram and Jayde quickly left and returned to the Sokolov Mercenaries, escaping the village chief and the bandits.
Unfortunately, the Mercenaries were attacked by more bandits a few days later. After repelling them, it seemed clear to all that Joram and Jayde weren’t safe anywhere in Tellius. With no other home to go to, and Sokolov’s protection, the J’Yore’s began their search for a feasible way to travel to Hatari, leading them months later to a small outpost called Palmyre. Unfortunately, they haven’t realized the full impact of the spell-trap and Jayde’s curse…
JAYDE “JAMOR” LAURENT J’YORE
Name: Jayde “Jamor” Laurent J’Yore
Age: 21 years
Race: Laguz
Gender: F
Affiliated Nation: Gallia/Crimea/Family
Class: Cat
Inventory:
~ Claws (& Bite?)
~ Beaststone - This allows Jayde to transform into a Cat with some measure of self-control.
~ Vulnerary
~ Anope – A seven-year-old gray stallion, Anope has been trained mostly as a riding horse. Jayde acquired him after one fight with highwaymen, when Anope was abandoned by his rider.
~ Document case –Jayde keeps this case hidden in her pack since it holds a few Dark magic tome pages.
Personality: Having faced suspicion and contempt for much of her life, Jayde has become cautious in her interactions with most people. This has helped her overcome situations that would have caught and hurt unwary people. She doesn’t immediately trust strangers, some of whom have intended to harm her or her family and friends.
Once past her caution, Jayde is loyal to those who have proved to be real friends, and she’s especially loyal to trusted family members. She will do just about anything she can to protect her friends and will more likely side with them than with others. As long as she isn’t betrayed, Jayde will stay true to the end.
Unfortunately, Jayde has also come out as confrontational towards people. When she sees a person as being hostile, suspicious, or unkind, she is more likely to speak out aggressively against that person, or at the very least state her disapproval. Jayde doesn’t always see clearly what someone else is doing or intending, so her hostility is sometimes unmerited.
Background: Jayde was born into the Laurent family, which consisted of an older brother, Haruki; an older sister, Maria; her mother, whose name she’s forgotten and was sometimes abusive; and her father, Dagan, a Fallen Laguz and a Shaman who often traded in questionable or illegal goods. He made sure that Haruki and Maria learned the Old Speech found in the tomes he owned.
When Dagan got hold of a rare Dark magic tome and planned to sell it, Haruki stole it and ran away with Maria and Jayde, who was now six years old. He told them that he’d learned that the would-be buyer was a Druid who apparently got rid of traders and other people once he had no more use for them, to leave behind no trail. Before crossing Gallia’s border, Haruki separated from them, taking the tome so any pursuers would chase him instead of his sisters. It was a couple days later that Maria and Jayde were found by Joram and his father, on Crimea’s side of the border. Maria said they were fleeing an abusive situation, though she didn’t give any details.
A Beorc and a few Cat Laguz men came to the village, searching for the tome thief; Jayde and Maria recognized the Beorc as Terzo Mullane, a man who often worked with their father. Joram’s father didn’t tell them about the Laurent girls, and they left emptyhanded. The next morning, Maria and Jayde talked to Joram’s father about staying and living in the J’Yore home. Maria and Jayde were effectively adopted by Joram’s parents, and Jayde and Joram soon grew as close together as if they had been born into the same family. They both learned to not run on only emotion in different situations, and they enjoyed activities such as hunting or playing hide-and-seek. Despite a few villagers who still despised Laguz, the J’Yore family continued taking care of the Laurent girls.
By the time she turned 17 years old, Jayde had learned the basics of fighting as a Cat and as much Old Speech as her sister remembered, just in case it was useful in the future. One morning, a mercenary Sword Knight rode into town, warning the villagers of bandits who were approaching the village. After the Knight left to rejoin his mercenary band, who were also approaching, Jayde and Maria were able to get with other villagers for defense while women and children gathered in the village hall. Then the bandits appeared, led by Mullane, and demanded that any Laguz in town be handed over, or they’d destroy the village.
When the village chief refused, the fighting began, and Jayde and the other defenders were pushed back toward the village hall. The Sokolov Mercenaries appeared shortly, routing the bandits and driving them away. Among those who died were the village chief and Jayde’s sister, Maria. Some of the villagers began blaming the J’Yore family and Jayde for that day’s destruction, and Mullane had threatened to return for Jayde. After some arguing, the mercenaries’ leader, a Hawk Laguz called Eberhard Sokolov, agreed to take Jayde and Joram (whose life had been saved) as recruits to replace a couple mercenaries who’d also died.
Three years later, the Sokolov Mercenaries took on a job to investigate a ruined fort in Begnion, thought to be the hiding place of some troublesome bandits. During this investigation, Jayde and Joram found a cellar with a locked door. Despite their doubts, they were curious, especially Jayde, and tried to open it. When they broke it open, a spell-trap knocked them unconscious. They woke up later when Eberhard found them; the bandits had (unsuccessfully) ambushed the mercenaries while Jayde and Joram were in the cellar. They now had tattoos branded on their right shoulders – the emblem of Daein. Since this could draw unwelcome attention, they decided to keep the tattoos hidden from view. They also discovered that Jayde couldn’t transform into a Cat most of the time, and when she could, she'd lose a lot of control over her actions and forget who was on whose side. Jayde was devastated that she could no longer control her transformations, and she initially avoided trying to become a Cat.
A few days later, Eberhard took Jayde and Joram to meet a Druid named Karam Ek, whom they told about the spell-trap and Jayde’s curse. After an examination, Karam stated that he didn’t know of a cure in Tellius, but he suspected that one could be found in Hatari, if they were willing to take the journey across the Desert of Death. Since such a journey seemed more likely to end in death, Jayde and Joram decided they’d rather return home while Karam researched possible counter-curses. As a partial fix, Karam gave Jayde a Beaststone, which allowed her to transform more easily and regain some of her self-control. After this, she decided to practice transforming again from time to time, to see if she could regain the rest of her control in due time.
In a private conversation, Karam told Jayde that her brother, Haruki, had come to him years before, asking for help with hiding the tome he’d stolen. Karam had kept the tome, but apparently, Haruki had torn out a few pages and given them to Maria, who was supposed to give them to Jayde if she couldn’t hold onto them anymore. Since Jayde knew nothing about these pages, she decided to look for them once she was back in Joram’s hometown.
When they returned to their village in Crimea, Jayde and Joram discovered that the new village chief was one of the villagers who’d opposed harboring any Laguz, and Joram’s parents had died of disease one year prior. The chief allowed them to stay for one night only, to rest from their journey. During that night, Jayde did a bit of investigating and ended up locating and stealing the tome’s pages from the village chief’s right-hand man. Jayde and Joram quickly left and returned to the Sokolov Mercenaries, escaping the village chief and the bandits who’d showed up to take the J’Yore’s.
Unfortunately, the Mercenaries were attacked by more bandits a few days later. After repelling them, it seemed clear to all that Jayde and Joram weren’t safe anywhere in Tellius. With no other home to go to, and with Sokolov’s protection, the J’Yore’s began their search for a feasible way to travel to Hatari, leading them months later to a small outpost called Palmyre. Unfortunately, they haven’t realized the full impact of the spell-trap and Jayde’s curse…
© 2007-2024