Full Name - "Julian Baker" Age - 14 Gender - Female, disguised as Male Heritage - Unknown. Claims to be a commoner refugee. Magical Affinity - None. Absolutely hopeless with all four elements.
-
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Just a Little Bit Shy The first impression one tends to get of "Julian," is that "he" is a very quiet and reclusive person. This couldn't be farther from the truth, but, since it helps with her disguise, the girl behind the act doesn't necessarily do much to dissuade people from this opinion at first -- at least, not intentionally. Put simply, she doesn't really go out of her way to draw attention to herself, and even if she wanted to... well, truth be told, she's not exactly the most experienced at dealing with boys. Anyone would be a little awkward in her shoes, right? So, she generally doesn't really speak unless spoken to, unless there's something she absolutely can't stand, or if she's in the company of those she regards as dear friends.
Compensating for Nothing ...Which turns out to be a lot of things, surprisingly. It wasn't necessarily her intention to play her character as an insecure brat with a Napoleon complex, but, well, she fits the role perfectly. Her fears of being outed as a girl translate surprisingly well to the insecurities that a particularly girlish boy of her age would probably have, and she tends to react with outrage whenever somebody makes fun of her for being small, or for her somewhat delicate features. This means that it's not only easy to rile her up, but also pretty easy to get her to do some rather stupid things, since, once challenged, she's usually all too eager to prove her masculinity. In order to fit in amongst men, you have to be the manliest of them all! Well, she probably read something like that once, at any rate, and so thinks she's being perfectly normal, but her exaggerated character tends to just make her seem like a brat.
Little Hero Her only barely hidden bluster and vigor, and only barely contained childish curiosity aren't necessarily bad traits, though. To those who approach her first, even if they tease her a bit, she's capable of being surprisingly amicable, seeming to just relish the fact that people are actually willing to talk to her at all, so long as they're at least mostly well-meaning. "Julian" is the type of person to change moods quickly, going from righteous indignation to joking and teasing right back with a great big grin in the blink of an eye. Forgive, forget, and forge ahead is her way of life, and despite how many layers of secrecy she's currently living under, for the most part she just follows her heart and hopes for the best.
She's blunt, but honest and charming in her own way, finding ways to appreciate something about almost anybody -- even those who most would disregard or deride as useless. If somebody has a unique talent, you can bet she'll dig it up and praise it for all it's worth, even if the person in question never even noticed they had it. Everyone everywhere has at least one lesson to teach, and she's all too eager to learn.
Still, even she has her lines she won't cross. With a strong sense of justice, she absolutely can't stand cruelty or injustice, and, like a little Don Quixote, will do her darndest to right just about any wrongs she encounters. And if you ask her why, well...
"Because, a Knight is supposed to be a hero!"
S K I L L S E T
That's Not How a Knight Should Fight! "Julian" is, perhaps unsurprisingly, woefully underequipped to actually become a knight. She possesses no training in how to fight or use weapons of any kind -- or at least, no training more extensive than valiantly and enthusiastically swinging sticks to slay imaginary ogres. What's more, her physical strength is laughable, and, although she's at least rather flexible and somewhat light on her feet, that doesn't actually help too much at keeping up with the scions of noble houses who've been training in swordsmanship practically since they could walk. But, she has to win somehow, otherwise she'll never be able to achieve her goals -- and what she does have going for her is a surfeit of determination. So, she's just got to even the playing field, right?
...Practically speaking, this means she fights in a manner so dirty and dishonorable that even an angry drunkard in Grayle's filthiest slums would blush and look away. Cheap shots to the groin, fistfuls of sand, spitting in eyes, biting hands, and pulling hair -- she does it all with the sort of gusto and desperation that can only come from having a dream you must fulfill at all costs.
Wasn't a Knight supposed to be a hero, Julian?
Didn't Hear No Bell As mentioned above, what "Julian" lacks in skill -- as she's completely hopeless at both swordsmanship and magic -- she makes up for with sheer tenacity. Surprisingly, for someone so scrawny and lacking in physical ability, her stamina is quite good, and so long as she paces herself, she can keep pushing ahead without tiring herself out -- though she may look like she's about to collapse at any given moment despite her stubborn insistence on continuing. What's more, her tolerance for pain is surprisingly high for somebody so small -- though given that she claims to be a refugee and fights like a gutter urchin, that probably comes as no surprise for most of her fellow cadets.
At any rate, what all this boils down to is that she might get slapped around and knocked on her butt, but like a bad penny, she just keeps coming back. Which is... actually kind of worrying, given how blase she seems to be about getting herself injured, and how quickly she ends up back on her feet when really, maybe she should just lie down. Determination and the desire to achieve one's dreams is good, but one doesn't become a knight in a day -- and trying to push yourself hard enough to catch up with those who have several years of a head start will only end in tragedy.
The Name "Baker" Isn't Just For Show! While her name is, obviously, assumed for the purposes of her disguise, at the very least she picked something that matches her skillset. She's quite at home in the kitchen, and whenever it's her turn on mess duty, the quality of the food noticeably improves -- to the point that some of her fellow cadets may end up wondering if that, rather than her dismal combat abilities, is why she hasn't been kicked out yet.
...Well, she's a little proud of it, but she's trying to become a knight, not a chef! Aaaaagh, this doesn't help at all!
Physical Description
There are some girls who could, perhaps, pass easily as a boy of about the same age. And "Julian" is... just barely one of them, but probably not for the right reasons. She's perhaps the shortest cadet in any of the Four Houses, let alone just her own, and is quite scrawny to boot, in some places having barely any meat on her bones. She stubbornly insists that she'll get taller and she's just a late bloomer, but actually fears that these claims may be true, since she's only recently started growing in ways that, given her current predicament, she'd really rather not. She doesn't need curves, she needs muscle!
But, for the time being at least, just binding her chest and adding some padding around her thin waist has at least managed to fit her into her new uniform without quite looking like a child wearing her father's clothes, so that's... better than nothing. And, given that her cover story of being a street urchin is pretty well known after a rather... memorable debut spar, most people for now write off her frail, petite build as the results of undernourishment. Which, technically speaking... isn't untrue? Yeah, let's just go with that. The best lies always have at least a grain of truth to them, after all.
Her face, thankfully, benefits from rather strongly defined cheekbones, which, with her hair cut short and messed up properly, makes her look at least passably masculine, though her long eyelashes are somewhat less than desirable in this regard. At any rate, she's got a few more years where her youthfulness will help her go unnoticed before her real gender becomes obvious, so she'll surely be able to figure something out in that time... right?
The oddest thing about her appearance, however, is that... well... lustrous golden-blonde hair and eyes as blue as a clear summer sky aren't exactly features one normally associates with commoners, let alone with homeless ruffian children from the frontier. She's scrawny, yes -- but she really doesn't look mangy enough to fit the part she's set out for herself. But then, if she's a disguised noble, why would she look like she got half-starved at some point? Is she secretly an unwanted child of some high aristocrat? Maybe an Alexandrian fugitive on the run from the Sages' Tower? It's just enough of an abnormality that it makes her the source of some... shall we say, unique rumors, but she usually just laughs such things off. After all, that'd be ridiculous, right? Almost as ridiculous as a girl pretending to be a boy as part of some childhood dream of being a hero.
Too unfortunate to be a proper noble, too refined to be some nameless pauper, too honest to sell her lies quite as convincingly as she'd like, and too... female to fulfill her dreams, Julian appears to be many things, while embodying none of them. She isn't what she seems, and is what she doesn't, and just when you might think you know the truth about her... Well, let's just say she's full of surprises.
Character Conceptualization
Whenever the Knights open for recruitment, they always end up with a few odd ducks. Cadets with conveniently unverifiable pasts applying under obvious pseudonyms are more common than one might think, and the order -- despite its reputation for taking all comers -- does its due diligence in confirming that they're not a threat. Cadets are often treated in a very hands-off manner during their initial days in training, to encourage them to relax and let their guard down -- all while being shadowed and observed quite carefully for any signs of danger. Some end up being criminals trying to make a break from their old lives, others spies from foreign countries looking for information on the inner workings of the order -- these undesirables tend to swiftly find their way to a nice, dark cell, and, for the most part, none of their fellows notice that one out of the many has stopped showing up.
Of course, the girl now known by the name "Julian" didn't know any of that. All she knew was that her name, her past, her very self -- such things were more of a burden than they were a blessing. She needed shelter -- a place where nobody would ever find her. A place where she could truly be herself. A place where she could make her dreams come true. In this sense, her motives for joining the Knights were wholly selfish and contemptible... But on the other hand, she really did want to help people -- to make a difference. Her earnest devotion wasn't a lie -- and it was this dedication, perhaps, that stayed the hands of those who would otherwise be inclined to banish a suspicious, noble-looking youth with an obvious fake identity. That's not to say that she isn't still under some degree of scrutiny, or that she's favored by any means, but... well, she has a chance, and though she's blissfully unaware of the full extent of the risks she's already undertaken, she's determined not to waste it.
And so, it was quietly, discreetly passed along. "Julian" is a child from the border regions, and things tend to get lost there. Things... and people. So, it's fine if there's no record of a Julian Baker, or if he can't easily say what town he comes from, or if it turns out that he's fully literate despite only being a baker's second son. Whoever he might be, whatever name he might have borne -- he's Julian Baker now, so until he does something to deserve a second look, we'll humor him for now, and make the best use of him we can. He'll probably drop out anyway, so why worry about it?
If only they knew.
Other Information
It's a dubious honor, to be sure, but a Null -- the opposite of an Absolute, being someone who doesn't have even a single elemental affinity -- is actually almost as rare! So, in a way, the fact that she can't use any of the four elements is actually pretty unique.
...Look, sometimes, you just have to look on the bright side.
Full Name - Rossweine Lupus Grayle Age - 15 Gender - Male Heritage - Second Son of the Third Wife of the King of Grayle, His Righteousness Albus II Magical Affinity - Water
-
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Air-Headed Spoken of charitably, Rossweine lives without a care for material goods, seeing beyond the trappings of greed and pride to get at what truly matters in life. That, however, is perhaps simply the hallmark of a noble, one who from birth was entitled to wealth and material security, for whom no amount of money could sway if only because such wealth would improve little in their life. He floats about in a more transient, fleeting world, taking everything at his own pace with no real inclination towards any particular goal. There is feeling, of course, passions that may shake his heart or draw him towards one experience or another, but emotions are less substantial than desires, and for all his beauty, he fades into the background during social occasions, finding himself more at peace in seclusion or in nature. Unfettered by responsibility, guided only by glimmers of moonlight and the sounds of the fairies’ footsteps, Rossweine is a heartless being, distant from the world his flesh inhabits.
Well-Mannered But certainly, like any noble, Rossweine is a master of manners, using courtesies and niceties to soften and repaint whatever actions his air-headed nature inspires. He stands all, his expressions and gestures as elegant and eloquent as one would expect out of those bearing royal blood. If need be, his eyes could even shine with a confident, stately light, the sort of brilliance that others could point at and use as evidence that there is a natural difference between those born in the rough and those born on high. Like all customs of high society, however, it is a mask, a blade, a shield, hammered into the psyche of those who may bear rings or crowns with more fervor than the arts of the martial path, the instruction of the arcane craft. An aristocrat without a noble bearing is nothing more than a foot soldier, after all. For nobility itself is artifice, built through wealth and delusion, history and mythology.
Thick-Skinned Guided only by gossamer whimsy and cast within a noble mold, it stands that he cares little for what reputation he carries, what mockeries and infamy are leveled against him. One can exist only in their own mind, after all, filtered through perceptions that wax and wane depending on the humors. How meaningless, then, is it to cling to beliefs of normalcy, to speak of traditions and inheritance as if they were certain things, when even the immutable will of the great heroes have been twisted with time? Just as how weightlessly he treats his own words, Rossweine sees the words of others as just as weightless, nothing more than snowflakes melting away in a span of a second. If a smile and an apology could reduce aggressions, then let it be so. If some coin is enough to buy his peace, then let it be so. And if nothing more than blood could solve a conflict, then he will flee rather than fight. Perhaps that too, is the countenance of a noble. Indeed, all have their own sense of what’s normal, a sense that they apply to the world around them. For Rossweine, that normalcy is one where all emotions fade when expended, where long-lasting grudges are merely the stuff of legends. So what does he care for the anger, the envy, the violence of others? It will all fade in time, melting into apatheia.
S K I L L S E T
Painting The gift that the Moon granted Rossweine was that of art, of distorting the world that all saw with paint and brush, pencil and easel. It is his one obsession, the one thing that his mother could feel proud about. Upon the canvas, he hollows himself out, for that sliver of a chance that another could feel a sliver of what he felt. But he is first and foremost a Prince of the Grayle lineage, and he is secondly a knight, tasked with sharpening his steel in order to serve as the kingdom's shield. His gift then, lies only in a distant third, and his crafts remain in his private study, covered in cloth.
Deflecting How can one without passion strike down another? How can one accustomed to retreat and concession protect others? Rossweine's shield is as fragile as stained glass. Rossweine's sword is as light as a feather. He will not win with a singular strike like a hero of yore, nor will he face his enemies shield-first like a guardian of the people. Rather, in absence of any true commitment to victory or loss, offense or defense, he simply parries. Meeting strikes on slants, guiding blades off their path, measuring distances and maintaining space with steps as gentle as fairies upon dew-touched fields. A defensive style focused on footwork, one that turns a fight into a dance until the aggressor...what? Runs out of strength and gives up? Trips and impales themselves on their own sword? Gets stabbed from behind by one of Rossweine's allies? The noble prince is skillful indeed. He will deflect even the burden of violence from his shoulders.
But for some reason, such a method of fighting makes Rossweine appear as if he's effortlessly toying with his opponent instead, and now everyone expects that's he's a plain and simple Swordmaster, rather than someone escaping responsibility.
Blessing Pray that it does not come to it.
Physical Description
What could be said other than how Rossweine Lupus Grayle, Second Son of the Third Wife of the King of Grayle, His Righteousness Albus II, is without question a youth who looks like a prince? Standing tall at 5'10, with perhaps room to grow even taller, he casts an elegant, slender silhouette, the very picture of a hero-knight. His eyes are possessed by a gentle, turquoise sheen, akin to a forest spring, while his hair, an ashy brown, comes down in soft, silky tufts that beg to be caressed. A perpetual state of peacefulness has kept his skin and mien unmarred, and his face strikes that balance of androgynous handsomeness achievable only by an adolescent.
A well-defined jawline and a slim nose. Soft cheeks and long eyelashes. Hands warm and firm, but slender and well-manicured. Even dressed in simple clothing that befits his disposition more than his station, he looks like a portrait, even what few, subjective flaws upon his person only serving to further accentuate such beauty. In his wake, there is no doubt that he's left a trail of broken hearts, even at his tender age.
But that's simply par for course if one was a royal prince, the object of fantasy and gossip.
Character Conceptualization
They say that he was born on a blue moon, when the clock struck midnight.
They say that he was a stubborn birth, clawing and rioting to stay within his mother’s womb.
They say that he was born fragile, lighter than his brothers and sisters, lungs heaving with only a miserly whimper once exposed to the outside world.
And over the years, they’ve continued to say many things of the Moonkissed Princeling, birthed by the union of Lady Terrenza Welrimelle and King Albus II, yet possessing neither the Lady’s acumen nor the King’s power. He must have been a child birthed only when the bounty of the fair Lady’s womb had dried up, a child of middling intelligence and meager magical talent, an unfanged cub to the wolves who were his older siblings. The firstborn son, the valorous Manegold of the Eclipsing Strike, is the Knight-Commander of the Western House. The secondborn daughter, the honorable Sieglinde, stands as one of the few advisors of the Grand Duke. The thirdborn daughter, the perceptive Walpurga of the Deep Sea, will succeed in the role of Royal Librarian of the Arcane Path once the current one’s tenure is up. All this was obtained through talent and the expenditure of political capital and wealth.
All this is simply to be expected if the third wife of His Righteousness is to expect House Welrimelle, mere Earls, to be grafted into the Grayle family as rulers.
And all this left Rossweine as…what? A second son, a prince with no great talents in warfare or leadership. He was only as beautiful as what ought to be expected of royalty, there was not much left in the family coffers to expend upon a fourth child, especially one without great prospects. So what did that make of his childhood?
One full of love, one bereft of great expectations. One that he did not appear to mind.
Time passed. The child grew up in body, yet did not change in mind. His mother worried as mothers would. His father hardly registered his existence, as any king would. The blood of heroes did not give rise to anything spectacular, and still, his magic only aligned with a single, pitiful element. Perhaps this was what allowed his delinquency to go unpunished? Or perhaps the battle for the crown was simply so consuming that his elder siblings and his dearest mother wanted for him something different?
Or perhaps it was the fate ascribed to him by the Wise God, He Who Dwells Within the Lunar Sea?
If a Prince had no place in the world, let him be a Knight, so that he may at least stand guard in a solitary keep, overlooking a seldom-touched plains.
So Prince Rossweine Lupus Grayle joined the many prospective candidates who sought to earn the glory of becoming a Royal Knight. And for all his listless apathy, the results of his first duel had some…undesirable consequences.
“The Knight King’s blood must truly run in his veins! Look at how he forced his foe to kneel without once striking back!”
Other Information
He fights in the equipment of a standard knight, with a shield in one hand and a longsword in the other.
He smells of spring and snowmelt, and does not sweat easy. Prefers quick, cold ablutions over warm baths.
He is soft-spoken and restrained, with a preference towards ambiguous, noncommittal phrasing.
He received a noble's education, which includes hunting, pensmanship, and the sixty-four standard ballroom dances that emerge in noble society. In the absence of servants to aid him in doing so, he cannot actually put on any of his clothes, so subsequently prefers buttonless, laceless attire.
Full Name - Signar Wayland Age - 17 Gender - Male Heritage - Tradesman. Almost finished his blacksmith apprenticeship in Valefor. Magical Affinity - Fire and Earth melding into Metal.
-
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Straightforward A rather extroverted individual, Signar is boisterous, frank, and all the things a refined noble of Grayle is not. He is happy to introduce himself to those he meets, and his greetings to friends usually include some physicality of sorts. Even in a meritocracy there's those who believe their family name gives them some greater importance than their peers. An intrinsic value to their existence, independent of their skills and actual worth. Signar was quite fond of butting heads with those peers of his, even if sometimes it meant eating his own words. Considering where he is now and his relative inexperience and lack of training? Well, his head is probably about to get significantly tougher.
Adventurous Perhaps it's ill-fitting for someone who aims to master his craft to have such whims as travelling. A waste of time that could be spent honing his trade and perfecting his skills. Yet, Signar was raised on the stories and myths that brought the Age of Darkness to an end and ushered in the new era. As much as he loves the challenge and work, he's not quite able to hermit himself away in seclusion and simply forge day in and day out. Valefor may produce the finest steel the world has seen these days, but there are plenty of stories of what came before. The weapons of heroes lost in the lands abandoned by men.
Competitive Given that Valefor is largely a meritocracy, it should come as no surprise that Signar welcomes any challenges that could be used to help improve. The constant struggle to be recognized out of the many apprentices and peers has long been ingrained in him. He's done his best to learn not to take things too personally or grow malicious over what should be healthy competition that allows each party to recognize their short comings and improve. With that said though... he's clearly got some ways to go seeing as he got worked up enough to get barred from the trade guild.
S K I L L S E T
Blacksmith It's been just over a year since Signar was barred from completing his apprenticeship. Three out of four years isn't bad though, and he's got a solid enough foundation to work with. Though he hasn't had a chance to work in a forge for some time, the knowledge is still fresh in his mind and he's itching for a chance. At least a proper forge. With his affinities and magic, it's quite possible to set up a portable forge wherever he likes. Having actual equipment does make for better practice though. He hasn't had the time or experience to fully devote himself to a particular field as an armourer, weapon-smith, or the like yet.
Dragonic Blood If one wants to truly become a master artisan though, the importance of magical skill and knowledge can't be understated. Even before he started apprenticing as a smith, Signar was taught to control and utilize the affinities he was gifted with. The Waylands are alleged to have the Dragon Lord's blood flowing through their veins, however diluted, and it is supposedly why the affinities of Fire and Earth are found among them. The use of magic for Signar has always been something that was meant to assist his work as a blacksmith. As such, he lacks practice when it comes to using magic in combat.
Enchantments! Sort of... The culmination of refined skill and magical expertise. A lofty goal that Signar strives to eventually achieve. The depth of understanding required to design even a single piece is something beyond him though, and even his best attempts are shoddy and flawed. While capable of placing a spell onto a weapon he has forged, it increases the time required. His skills as a smith are also lacking to create a truly reliable weapon. The end result is generally unstable and fragile, rarely good for or worth the risk of squeezing out a second use. In short, instead of weapons that are fit for Sword Saints and Knight Commanders, he's got daggers and hatchets that function as grenades!
Physical Description
Standing 6’4 with a burly build, Signar makes for a rather imposing figure among those his age. Even more so in Grayle, where his height and naturally tanned skin give him away as a foreigner. His black hair is somewhat coarse given the amount of heat damage it has suffered over the years, and he keeps the worst of it tied back and out of the way. He could just cut it off to simplify things, but… His pale blue eyes aren’t too remarkable either. Watchful and perhaps even a bit wary, but lacking in intensity that some nobles might wax on poetically about. They aren’t gleaming sapphires, sharp as ice, or deep like the ocean’s depths and as capable of pulling one in. They’re just the eyes of a learned young man who’s still a bit hopeful about his future.
His choice of clothing also tends towards the simple and plain. Much of it is starting to show signs of their age with a bit of patchwork, but he’s not the sort to replace something that just needs a bit of fixing. While they’re obviously meant for the warmer climate of his homeland, Signar seems rather unbothered by the weather in Grayle. He hardly seems to notice the chill at nights, even while wearing a short-sleeved tunic. His clothing is often wrinkled or somewhat out of place, but rarely is it ever outright dirty.
The one standout would be the pendant that dangles around his neck. A dragonic embossing practically leaps out from its surface, highlighting the workmanship that must have gone into it. Given how dull and scuffed the metal is though, it seems as if Signar has only treated it with the bare minimum to prevent actual tarnishing.
Character Conceptualization
The Wayland family is just one of many that make up the ever industrious nation of Valefor. A family of metalworkers that can trace their lineage all the way back to one of their great nation's founders. Blessed with a fraction of the Dragon Lord's splendour, they lack the enterprising nature of their peers and thus remain a relatively small family business. With a few Enchanters over the generations though, they have their own claim to fame even among the ever improving works flowing forth from Valefor.
For larger families that are practically companies in their own right, it's not too uncommon for them to run apprenticeships in-house. They can afford the cost of setting up such an institution to guarantee them a steady flow of new workers. For smaller families though, such as Signar's own, the state provides an option through its guilds. Lanhelm is truly something to behold. An entire city dedicated to any aspect of metalworking. The cloud of smoke hanging above the city from its innumerous forges and workshops would likely send anyone who holds the sanctity of nature into shock too!
It's here where many of the nation's artisans attend their apprenticeships. Even within the guild, competition is fierce and there are rarely enough anvils to accommodate each individual. Rough housing wasn't that uncommon, and he can remember spending a few days sweating by furnaces while bruised and battered. Good times that. Occasionally things might escalate beyond small scuffles and require the adults to step in, but it was rare. They were all aspiring craftsman rather than trained fighters, so there was only so much danger a few rowdy kids could put themselves in.
Of course that's before magic gets involved in the picture. Let's not even begin to mention the overconfidence of an idiot experimenting with Enchantments without any real guidance given the high level of precision, knowledge, and expertise required. It's not like a practitioner of that level simply hangs around looking for possible students to raise. In short, Signar's creation may just have blown apart another apprentice's shield and almost taken their arm with it. He may have ended up stripped of any qualifications and barred from the guild. He may have almost been disowned by his family for such a blunder.
So Signar's got something of a bad reputation back home, and he may have escaped his homeland rather than walked out freely. His family intended to keep him grounded until a bit more sense had been instilled into him, but years spent away from them at a place where competition was practically a way of life? Unsurprisingly it left Signar somewhat of an independent individual who refused to simply bow down and accept his punishment.
Why Grayle of all places? It's the closest nation given how his hometown is practically on the border between the two countries. As a result, they have quite a few customers in the country as well, so it won't be too odd for him to be seen. At least until the news spread. As for applying as a Knight Candidate? The most important aspect was the ease of application and the magical education that was included. Trekking all the way to Alexandria as they geared up for conflict seemed... unwise, and he had heard enough disparaging remarks about how the stuffy bookworms worked.
Other Information
Signar's experience with fighting amounts to the occasional spar and weapon testing. He may have lost the debut spar, but the combination of physical might and a decent magical education made for a match instead of a simple beatdown.
He uses a warhammer for its familiarity, but has no real preference as he’s tested all of his creations. Given his large stature, a polearm or spear of sorts could make for a truly oppressive reach.
Full Name – Dorothy “Dot” Auferrum Age - 14 Gender - Female Heritage – Born to an Alexandrian family that can trace its long and winding roots back to penitent Maria, and utterly soiled by the presence of Grayle blood in her parentage. Magical Affinity - Light
-
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Sheltered Having done most of her growing up in a solitary block of her home, Dot does not boast a particular broad understanding of the world. Sure, she had tutors for writing and mathematics, but she never learned the fine details of international relations, and the dance of courtroom politics was one for which she simply didn’t have the rhythm. She knows things are tense in the world, and that Alexandria is, allegedly, so much better than Grayle, but in all honestly she doesn’t very much care for either of them. Why should she? They never cared for her.
Curious Of course, a disinterest in world politics doesn’t preclude an interest in the world itself. You can’t spend years in one place and not want to see what’s outside. Nor can you spend as much time interacting with very few people and not want to make friends. Dot sees friendship as a beautiful flower waiting to be plucked on the other side of a river—she just can’t swim yet. Solitude might have stamped her adventurous spirit into the dirt, but plenty of things can grow from dirt with a little time and a nurturing hand.
Hang It All Disillusionment was sewn into Dot very early, and its roots grew deep. What was once a starry-eyed thirst for glory and adventure has devolved into a bitter cynicism befitting someone much older and world-weary. Dot hasn’t seen the world, but as far as she’s concerned, people are the same pretty much everywhere—they look out for themselves, and will bury anyone for the sake of their own ambitions.
She harbors a burning resentment for the aristocracy, with a particular disdain for royalty. In her dreams their castles lay in ruins and their thrones sit empty. And yet, she cannot shake her fascination with knighthood, for which she blames Adean’s own fixation with honor and battle. Knights, she thinks—prays, even—are the exception. They live by codes, they don’t just fight for who’s in charge, they fight for good. They help the innocent. They right wrongs. They bring justice to the unjust.
Dot wouldn’t mind meting out that justice herself.
S K I L L S E T
Isolated Training Dot could write her name with both hands at the same time, backwards. Whether this skill was learned or came naturally is uncertain, but being cooped up at nearly all hours of the day left her with plenty of time to develop it. Coupled with a keen sense of hand-eye coordination, this made for phenomenal groundwork when her brother began training her in swordplay. Adean’s teachers were many, and skilled, and Dot accepted the funnel of their collective knowledge voraciously. She learned quickly, fixating on every lesson, working the hobby into a passion over years of practice. Unfortunately, she never got the chance to put her training to use at home, but Adean was proud of her progress, and that was enough for her.
Presently, Dot favors a rapier in each hand, and tends to prefer offense to defense.
Dancer Dot’s room was very close to where the court entertainers would practice, and so she frequently found opportunities to observe, listen, and occasionally dance along to the music. Over time this frivolous hobby grew into practicality; in addition to building lean muscle, Dot displays a phenomenal sense of balance and agility, able to move unencumbered in frilled dresses and patched-up rags alike.
Naturally, she incorporated this into her training with Adean, despite his protests. According to him, dancing was elegant but too pretty, and fighting was supposed to be ugly and brutal. Of course, Dot was more stubborn than sensible, and while she ceased trying to pirouette in their sparring bouts, she never gave up the grace. Amateurish and unorthodox as she may be, there is an undeniably effectiveness in the bedrock of her style, it just needs some time and proper training to unearth.
Disgraced by Light While some of her hobbies were indulged, the one thing Dot was always forbidden from meddling with was her affinity for Light magic. Her father wouldn’t stand to see it, and her mother, not wanting to upset him further, stood with him. This, of course, did not dissuade Dot, who couldn’t envision a world in which she was somehow more of a disappointment. So with tremendous effort and more than a few harsh punishments, she managed to eke out a meager study in what few light incantations she could get her hands on, but even then her results were mixed at best. Magic was hard, go figure, and it was far beyond Dot’s capabilities to teach herself its complexities by candlelight in the wee hours between dusk and dawn. With the right tutelage, she’s sure that will change.
Physical Description
Of average height, slight but leanly muscled, toss a little dirt on her cheeks and Dot looks the part of a rugged youth, despite having grown up in a literal castle. Her dark hair is chopped short, and she possesses a stony yet serene countenance, cracked only under pressure, or when given something sweet. Like her siblings, she carries almost none of her father’s hard features, and knows that before long she will look very much like her mother—a thought that thrilled her once, but no longer.
Her clothes are not quite rags, but are still simple and offer ease of movement. She wears cloaks often, having always favored the flowing nature they granted to her dancing, and now preferring how they obscure her movements. Hoods, gloves, and boots are also not uncommon, mainly because she owns little else, and she’s been instructed that more coverage is better.
It would be hard to see nobility in Dot at a glance, but in motion she displays a sort of grace unbefitting of street urchins. She doesn’t move like a knight, nor entirely like a dancer either, but rather in some awkward amalgamation of the two. Time and training may yet refine it into something effective and beautiful.
Character Conceptualization
Lord Heron Auferrum was a proud man, with a proud lineage and a proud legacy. He wore his family’s colors with pride, he ruled his subjects with pride, he combed his moustache with pride. The people of the Ferrous Shore were proud to call him lord, his sons were proud to call him father. At night he would stand in front of a mirror and tell himself just how proud he was to be Lord Heron Auferrum, and then he would climb into bed and dream that penitent Maria herself would descend to pat him on the head and say that she was proud of him too.
At least that’s how Dot imagined it from her hole in the castle.
Often times the lastborn child of nobility is doted upon, shirking all responsibility, but still managing to bask in the glory of their name and reap all its benefits. In a way that was true, Dot’s third brother was lazy and witless and did next to nothing and yet he would be recorded in the Auferrum records with beautiful marks.
Unlike him, though, Dot was a bastard.
Not Lord Heron’s bastard, no. His wife, the venerable Lady Lesca, had been exchanging love letters with an anonymous member of the Grayle family, and on a certain diplomatic visit to their neighbors, sealed them with a kiss.
At first this was not a problem. Despite Heron’s strong bloodline, all of his children most strongly resembled their mother, and Dot was no exception. It wasn’t until the discovery of her magical affinity that things took a turn for the worse. Her father was crestfallen, her mother was mortified, and two of her brothers were quick to write her out of the family. Adean, the middle brother, felt sorry for her and still called her sister, but as second in line his say was ignored.
Blessedly, no one outside of the immediate family knew, and Heron was desperate to keep it that way. He had his daughter confined. At the age of five, Dot’s world shrank to the size of her room, expanding only occasionally to other cramped areas of the castle. Her only visitors were the guards that brought her food, the tutors who disappeared if she told them her secret, her mother—though that became less and less frequent over the years—and daily visits from Adean. With few feasible hobbies, Dot spent a lot of time daydreaming about being free, seeing the world, living out the adventures in the books she hoarded. But eventually those dreams soured. Childlike wonder withered early for her, and she became moody and resentful of everyone, even Adean—though she always felt guilty when she snapped at him, and he always came back the next day anyway. Adean tried to ease the gloom. He taught her swordplay, and brought her to dance while the musicians practiced, when he could sneak her out, but for every bright moment he gave her, there were always hours of silence to follow.
Eventually he decided enough was enough. Dot wasn’t sure how exactly it happened, but her brother managed to leak her secret to the court, and from there it spread like wildfire. Lord Heron Auferrum, proud descendent of the penitent witch, renowned knight of Alexandria, had been cuckolded by the fucking Grayles. Mockery and contempt rained down upon their house, and in a matter of weeks their standing had begun to crumble. Heron raged, demanding duels from all those who darted impugn his honor, and though he managed to lay a few hecklers low on the field, the rest simply ignored him.
It was too much. Heron had his wife exiled, and in a fever of newfound hatred for his countrymen, sent Dot “back where she belonged.” Adean and the rest of her brothers were now the ones confined to the castle, until he could manage to find them suitable prospects for marriage so that he might, slowly, begin to rebuild the Auferrum name.
Armed with a humble pouch of coin, Dot was sent to Grayle as a “Grudge-Born-Gift,” which seemed in all practicality to be synonymous with “soon-to-be-prisoner” or, perhaps like her mother, “exile.” Alexandria despised her, and Grayle, she was sure, would carry no love for a bastard whose mere existence called the royal family’s honor into question. The only thing saving her from the gutters, or worse, living in another small room as a political hostage no one wanted, was her affinity for Light magic. Regardless of her dubious birth, turning away a rare gift, even one given out of spite, was surely unwise.
Dot found little resistance in her decision to try for knighthood. It seemed girls joining was something of an open secret, discouraged but not rigorously policed. “Cut your hair, wear baggy clothes,” they said, “and don’t piss around anyone.” It didn’t sound so tough, and for a brief moment Dot felt the world open up just a bit more.
But the feeling didn’t last. Dread was more familiar. She was used to closed doors, and it was only a matter of time before this one shut, too.
Other Information
Questions of Dot's parentage travel briefly up the chain of command before being stonewalled. Though her roots in the Grayle bloodline are undeniable, it would seem someone is protecting the identity of her father—or perhaps, protecting themselves.
Full Name - Nathaniel “Nate” Lothwren Age - 15 Gender - Male Heritage - Eldest son of a minor noble war hawk family Magical Affinity - Fire, capable of producing an aura.
-
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Unyielding Flame Nate's first tutor in swordsmanship used this phrase to describe the boy at the age of seven. Combined with his optimism, this might refer to the boy’s tenacity for getting back up on his feet and tackling a new challenge. However, that tutor saw something behind the boy’s purple eyes that he had only seen in some of the fiercest soldiers and most serious of tacticians: a fiery determination and focus. He tries to soften it with enthusiasm and kindness, but deep down even Nathaniel knows that he is truly obsessed with being the best knight possible. His nights training in sword techniques, and countless hours watching duels and other combatants, have clued in even the most casual of acquaintances that Nathaniel is serious about becoming the best. That serious determination and focus in his eyes also reveals something else about the boy: everyone around him is a set of skills, abilities, and weaknesses. The other boys at the sword schools sometimes couldn't tell if Nathaniel was looking at them or reading them, even when he smiled and called them "friend."
Honorable to a fault While most children desiring to brave into the world of military politics might become cutthroat and crafty in orchestrating their rising through the ranks, Nate had a fundamental virtue emblazoned on his heart from a young age: honor is what makes a knight worthy of service. Nate refuses to resort to cheap tactics, mind games, or political maneuvering to gain an upper hand on his opponents. He believes, wholeheartedly, that he will earn his rank in the upper echelons of knightly society by skill and skill alone. Unfortunately, honor also comes with a reputation. And any who dishonor the name of Nathaniel Lothwren can expect the cadet to do everything in his power to put rumors to bed who is truly deserving of being a knight.
Optimistic / Uplifting While Nathaniel's life has been geared towards achieving an incredibly lofty goal, he is in good spirits about his chances of living a fulfilling life. Nate does not believe in achieving his dream alone: what is a hero if not someone who lifts up everyone around him? Nathaniel Lothwren is very rarely knocked down fully, and there is no obstacle or challenge that can keep him down long. He also refuses to let others be burdened by failure or fail to live up to their potential. He will do everything in his power to lift up those around them, to make them the best they can be. He is a friendly rival, or a reassuring coach, to whoever needs it. If any knights under his watch are underdogs, he will pull them up by their bootstraps for them if push comes to shove. There is a slight arrogance to Nathaniel's uplifting nature. The more he tries to help someone, the more clear it is that he believes that he could be better with your skillset than you are. It's no wonder he doesn't have any close friends.
S K I L L S E T
Tactician’s Eye Nathaniel’s greatest skill has always been his attention to detail, and his ability to piece together patterns. While this has helped him to gain a greater understanding of military history, it is particularly helpful in allowing Nate to break apart an opponent’s fighting style and reverse engineer a counter-strategy. Most of the duels and fights Nathaniel goes into are calculated, and he typically tries to find a way to win before the battle even begins.
Bastard Sword Training Nathaniel shows a knowledge of form and technique that indicates an incredible understanding of the motions involved with a formalized training with a Bastard Sword. He is mostly skilled with formalized "drill" usage of his weapon, but has shown an aptitude for using his sword in single combatant dueling. He isn't as agile or as strong as some of his foes, and this shows in his swordsmanship abilities. He refuses to wield a shield in his off hand, keeping both hands free to maneuver the heavy weapon. He's pretty good for his age, but Nathaniel's chosen weapon of specialization is slightly too big for him to wield elegantly. Hopefully he'll grow into it.
Fire Aura Form - Phoenix Stride While Nathaniel prefers to focus on his traditional martial skills, the need arises when dealing with powerful magic users to tap into his own innate magical abilities. Nathaniel is able to channel his aura into small bursts of speed, launching himself forward or into the air. Nathaniel is only able to use his aura in short bursts, and it leaves him drains a lot of his stamina with each use. Whenever used, fire trails off of his body and weapon.
Physical Description
Nathaniel Lothwren isn’t much to look at from a first glance. He is a bit tall for his age, and has a lean-muscular build. He keeps his hair short, to avoid it from becoming a nuisance in battle or a potential weakness. His features are a bit sharp in the right light, though a nearly ever-present soft smile helps to smooth away the edges. The most notable feature is noticed when Nathaniel looks in someone’s direction: his irises have a purple hue. It’s subtle enough to be mistaken as blue, but is markedly distinct when viewed in better lighting. Beyond just the color of his eyes, there is an intense focus placed on anything Nate looks at that is remarkably clear on closer examination.
As for his clothes, all of Nathaniel’s limited wardrobe is remarkably well crafted. He is almost always seen wearing fair riding clothes, fine pants, and a blue tunic of fine quality. He sinches his outfit together with belts and straps to ensure everything stays firm, especially before going into combat. His ensemble, once viewed when he is in the height of combat, is also purely utilitarian. His gloves reduce wear on his hands, with bracers designed to hold the gloves in place. Belts and straps keep the tunic loose around joints and his hips without any fear of the clothing sliding or restricting in such a way as to limit mobility. And, of course, Nathaniel is often not seen without his trusty “Sword and a half” Bastard Sword either strapped to his back or held in hand whenever training or duels are at hand. The scabbard for the blade is old and worn leather, whereas the sword itself seems to be in remarkably pristine condition.
Character Conceptualization
Nathaniel Lothwren's birth was deemed important by the falling of three stars in the Southwestern sky, piercing through the sword of Chironis... at least, that's what some sage told his mother. The last time stars fell in this pattern was years and years ago, when one of his forefathers was born: a forefather who was a founding knight serving alongside Arbert Grayle. Back when heroes walked the realm. The meaning of this sign was clear: Nathaniel was born with the rare gift of being able to project a magical aura. Nathaniel's father, whom the boy refuses to name, took this as a sign that his son was meant to surpass him. And thus, the boy's future was set.
As soon as Nathaniel could walk, he was taught to run. As soon as he was able to comprehend language, he was told his destiny by his father: to become a knight to rival the heroes of old. As soon as the boy could stand on his own two feet and hold a sword, he underwent formal drills. He was given access to some of the greatest sword instructors in all of Grandor, and some from outside Grayle proper. Mages also did their best to instruct the boy, and teach him to control his aura. Beyond even just that, they taught him the nature of combative magic. While not versed in incantations for his personal use, Nathaniel has been taught on instinct what spells to expect to be used against him. When time allowed, Nathaniel's father would draw up mock battles in the study and teach the boy military history. The boy would absorb his father's musings on tactical failures of the past, and over time the boy began to be able to notice strategic flaws all his own. His two younger brothers were not given the same focus, the same singular attention that Nathaniel was. They were only a year and a half and three years younger than himself. They were not neglected, not by any means. They were instead taught alternative lessons: instructed on how to be proper young men, educated and able to command principles of academics and business. They were molded for court, and to be proper nobles. Nathaniel was made for the battlefield.
By the time the boy was 10, even Nathaniel's father recognized a need for socialization. He had drilled the boy in principles of honor, of always fighting fair even in the face of cunning and ruthlessness. But the boy needed to put it into practice. So, the boy was sent off to various sword schools, for a few months at a time. He displayed a great prowess for wielding a blade, and had grown to favor wielding a specific type of broadsword: a bastard sword. Nathaniel had learned proficiency in switching the hand he wielded the sword with. He would quickly work his way to the top of the class, and was met with jealousy by the other students. He was bullied and harrassed, and yet Nathaniel's resolve was strong. He would accept whatever scorn was cast his way, and never rose to true anger. That was reserved for those who fought dishonorably and outside of the rules. Those who lacked skill and prowess, and resorted to cheap shots and dirty tricks. They were nothing but cowards, mere rats clawing desperately for survival. Nathaniel reserved his ire for these students, and would systematically tarnish their spirits in sparring matches.
That is not to say Nathaniel did not make friends at these schools. The boy with purple eyes earned respect by those who were less skilled and in desperate desire to learn. While it was breaking the rules, Nathaniel would sneak out of the rooms at night many a time with those who desired to squeeze in extra practice by moonlight. Nathaniel would give pointers and suggestions, even in the midst of sparring, with those who were not as skilled as Nathaniel. And by the time Nathaniel left each sword school, his genuine care for those around him was the most notable absence.
Of course, it seems that Nathaniel would be a shoe in for placing as a respectable knight. He passed the preliminary trials offered to noble families, and was slated to duel a mere Baker's boy. Nathaniel took it as a chance to show off his skills against an unknown opponent. Despite all of the training he had, Nathaniel was not expecting one thing: pocket sand. A cheap trick blinded him, and Nathaniel was on his back pinned down and disarmed as he was coughing and furiously trying to blink out the rough sand. In his first truly public duel and display, Nathaniel Lothwren was dishonored and made a laughing stock. While he tries to be all smiles, there is a deep well of ambition and desire to challenge that opponent to a proper duel.
One of these days, Nathaniel will get his rematch with Julian Baker. And when that time comes, he is not going to hold back.
Other Information
There is gossip and mystery surrounding Nathaniel Lothwren by those who come from more well established noble families. The rumor is there is no Lothwren child by the name of Nathaniel, and that the boy is disguising his familial ties.
Another rumor hints that despite Nathaniel’s poor performance during the open spar, notable knights have still taken an interest in the boy’s career as a cadet.
Full name Zenshin Ferros Age15 Gender Male Heritage 2nd son of Lerantus And Miriam Ferros, the Ferros family are located on the outskirts of the port town Fellshard in Valefor, the Ferros family has established themselves as a respective family of Alchemists and medical practitioners throughout the generations. Magical AffinityWater, Wind, Snow
-
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Common screw-up Zenshin is a very self-conscious child who tends to be worried about others opinions and how they view the boy. In term it tends to have a negative effect on the boy as he tends to freeze up or completely botch things when performing tasks or magic with others around especially people he is unfamiliar with. Words sway him easily, compliments and reassurance often empowering the boy with hope and courage to take the leap of faith. While on the other hand insults or scolding him can have the opposite effect, inducing anxiety and thoughts of self doubt.
Gentle Soul Zenshin possesses a kind soul treating anyone and everyone with kindness and respect even when they are rude to him. When it comes to those in need he is very willing to go extreme lengths to assist them even when he gains nothing as the personal satisfaction of knowing he made a difference gives him purpose. This deep level of empathy he has for other people has derived from his own trials and tribulations growing up. Deep down he wishes that he would receive the same treatment
Emotionally driven Often times Zen tends to think more with his heart instead of his mean, impulsively taking on tasks or starting things he should have put more thought into as he makes decisions based on how he feels on the situation. Just as often this can get him into some troublesome situations that have him in over his head. Some might call him very flighty at times, particularly when his heart is swayed in a direction he is quick to follow his emotions.
S K I L L S E T
Eye of newt and toe of frog… Coming from a long line of alchemists dating back centuries. Instilled into him at a very young age, Zen is well versed in the family business of brewing potions and medicines used for a multitude of different uses. This also includes resourcefulness when it comes to finding ingredients on the road and herbal knowledge. Well as long as his anxiety doesn’t get the better of him. He does screw things up pretty often.
BRRRRRGH!!! Despite being of commoner blood, Zenshin possesses a innate talent over the secondary element of snow. Zen is able to erect large shards of ice from the ground as well as throw them as projectiles. He is even proficient in covering the ground in a layer of slippery ice in order to throw off
I need a medic! In order to make use of their alchemical expertise, members of house ferros also undergo medical training in order to understand the effects that certain ingredients have on the body. This not only includes a physical understanding of the human body but also a extensive understanding of magic and how it interacts with the human body as well.
Physical Description
Tall and wiry are the correct words that define Zenshin. Standing in at 5’10 and weighing about 145 lbs, Zen's slim and tall frame along with his vibrant brown complexion often gets him a fair amount of looks here and there. Upon his head lays a tuft of black and brown hair draping down his face and over his ears to meet a pair of soft amber eyes. Zen facial structure possesses strong cheek bones, a sharp jawline, and a small and slim nose that compliments his face nicely.
As far as clothing goes, Zen possesses a rather limited wardrobe featuring a small assortment of cloak and loose fitting clothes of standard quality varying in thickness as he enjoys wearing clothing that don't restrict his movement too much. Coupled along with these cloaks are loose fitting pants along with sandals.
Character Conceptualization
The Ferros family came to settle in Valefor not too long after the war. With their medical contributions and alchemical knowledge, the Ferros family quickly established themselves as a respected and known family in Valefor as well as having small influence within other nations.
Zenshin is the first born of the current Ferros family head Lurantus Ferros and his wife Miriam Ferros, Zenshin is the eldest of 4 kids, 3 boys and 1 girl. From an early age he took part in the same rigorous training and studying that his forefathers has took apart of at an early age but he seemed to always fall short in ability, failing to show alchemical talent worthy of taking notice. His father was rather wary early on in entrusting the boy with the guiding the family in the right path.
When his brother Lionel was of age to partake in studies he showed immediate promise and results, garnering the favor of their father as he began to focus more on his alchemical prodigy. Lionel quickly picked up on the topics that were being taught to him and an advanced understanding at a young age. It wasn’t long before he caught up to his brother whom had 4 years of age on him.
As time went on Lionel’s shadow quickly casted over Zenshin as his younger brother became the talk of the town managing to catch up and surpass Zenshin in his studies. The gap between the two only seemed to grow from there, even worse as the more Zenshin fell short the more he felt disconnected. Word would begin to spread of the Ferros family prodigy. Even his other 2 younger siblings showed more promise than their eldest brother further tanking Zen’s confidence. Along with his relationships went his confidence as well as he developed social anxiety from the constant comparison. This was also roughly around the time where he would begin to find solace within the legend of Grayle, the boy finding amazement within the courage that Grayle possessed to defy the odds. Perhaps he could maybe follow in his footsteps. It was true the stakes were different, while Grayle was destined to be the white knight who would save the world. Zenshin was tasked with being a competent family head and even then he couldn’t do that. Even so a boy could dream.
Around the age of 11, Zenshin would begin spending his free time practicing his magic within the forest outside of his house. He would train extensively as he channeled his strong emotions into his magic, despite not being gifted with alchemical or medical talent the boy did possess control over the element of snow which was a feat in itself. Even so this did not sway his father in any way as their values did not align.
The more Zenshin would train and cultivate his magic the more he would find himself fantasizing about joining the knight order founded by Grayle and making a name for himself. No longer would he be in his brother Lionel’s shadow. No longer the black sheep of the family but a talented child who created his own path. More importantly he’d reclaim the admiration of his father once again.
Alas once he reached a point in his magic he deemed competent he left without a trace. Casting away what seemed like shackles and following his dream on a whim, Zenshin was never more sure about something in his young life.
Other Information
Despite having trained his magic Zenshin possess 0 combat experience has he only has ever casted his spells on still objects nor has he ever held a weapon of any sorts.
Full Name - Liese Victoire Brendorn Age - 16 Gender Identity - Male Physical Sex - Female Heritage - Eldest Daughter of Marquis Childebert Ercwulf Brendorn, Lord Councilor Magical Affinity - Absolute (Fire, Wind, Water, Earth)
-
P E R S O N A L I T Y
I Am NOT A Woman! More than just disguising himself as a man to enroll in the knight academy, Liese well and truly believes that he's a man, every part of his soul tells him that he's a man and should have been born as a man. If someone tells him that a curse had been placed upon him so that he was born with the wrong body, then he'll believe it. He feels like a once-disembodied spirit that possessed a woman's body, this unpleasant feeling that he's merely a parasite controlling its host. Related, he finds himself attracted to girls, he even had a couple childhood crushes over the years, although he never acted on his feelings for obvious reasons. Respecting and treating Liese like a man is a sure way to get into his good graces. Logically, should he encounter anyone who identifies themselves differently than the body they were born in, Liese will absolutely have no prejudice against those individuals, for he's one of them.
The Ends Justify The Means Liese has always been an ambitious person, driven and self-assured to what he wants in life, and not above pushing himself to achieve them. Thus, the loss of his inheritance due to circumstances outside of his control stoked the flames even further. At this point, Liese is deadset on reclaiming what's his and he'll stop at nothing to realize it. Though his sense of honorable chivalry prevents him from committing heinous acts, he's not above eliminating his rivals and crushing his competition if they get in his way. He has experienced enough iniquitous bias for years and his patience has just been spent.
Surely it'll all be worth it in the end...
Alexander's "Successor" It's no secret that Liese has a high opinion of himself. Why shouldn't he? He's of noble blood, he's talented in knightly skills, and he's an Absolute; it's obvious that he's destined for something great, something a lot more than just being a trophy wife, and only deluded fools can't see that. Liese subscribes to the idea that the injustice against him is purely due to his body, and this perception strengthens his self-imposed prophecy even further. These trials and tribulations set against him are challenges given by the gods so he may prove himself worthy of their gifts, and no one - no one - will stop him from his divine birthright. As a result, Liese despises conservatives set in their poorly obsolete mindset and lazy people who give up at the first signs of hardships; those spoiled noble sons who needed not to raise even a finger to have everything handed to them on a silver platter, decadent fools undeserving of their wealth and privilege.
One day, she'll usher a new era where no man or woman will have their lives allotted simply due to the nature of their corporeal existence, and these so-called "nobles" will be purged so only the worthy of their title may keep it.
S K I L L S E T
Born A Knight One may refuse Liese to be the primary heir over his brothers, but no one can deny the sheer precocious talent that the young girl showed ever since an early age. It has been proven time and time again that with hard work and the correct tutelage, anyone can achieve greatness, but it's also true that the speed of progress differs from person to person. The best of both worlds entail the combination of natural talent and practical diligence, enabling the student to accelerate their skills ahead of their peers, Liese is one such student. Swordsmanship, archery, and horseriding, the blonde noble displays aptitude in all the skills necessary to be a formidable crusader. If there's one thing holding him back is that despite all of his training, he slightly lacks in pure physical strength compared to a boy of similar age and training experience, simply due to biology; he's aware of this, and he hates it.
Personally, he prefers to wield a one-handed arming sword to free one hand for casting spells, although he can use bows just fine.
The Avatar What he lacks in brute force, he more than makes up for it by possessing equal skill in wielding all four Major Elements: Fire, Wind, Water, and Earth. Dubbed an "Absolute", Liese makes full use of the practical and societal implication of this rare trait, the former by being able to mix and match spells that fit his style the most and the latter as a basis to claim that he's Alexander's successor. Still, unlike pure spellcasters who dedicate their lives into learning magic and magic alone, Liese's repertoire is limited to incantations that best suit his purposes to be a knight, and that entails combat-focused spells. Wreathing his blade in flames, conjuring a barrier of wind to deflect projectiles, snapping foes with whips of water, and launching boulders from the earth are some of his abilities, additionally, he possesses incantations that combines those aforementioned elements as well, although they all adhere to his focus of combat-applicable magic.
There are virtually endless incantations available to learn and there simply won't be enough time to practice them all, especially not when his first and foremost goal is to be a knight, not a mage.
Inspiring Presence Confident, proactive, skillful, and brave, these are traits that are seen as the hallmarks of a good leader, someone the masses can rely upon. Although not everyone may like Liese on a personal basis, most are able to see him being an inspiring figure to the troops in the battlefield, unflinching and self-assured even in the face of great adversity. In the thick of combat, sometimes there's simply no chance to carefully mull over which decision is the best, sometimes the best thing a commander can do is to pick a path and stick with it, a suboptimal choice is still better than the best one made in uncertainty. The worst thing an army can have is a hesitant leader after all.
As knights often end up leading their own troops, whether a small squad or a whole legion, leadership is never a skill worth passing over.
Physical Description
In another place, in another world, had circumstances been different, Liese would've chosen to be born as a boy and not this freak of a body that couldn't seem to decide which side of the gender spectrum it should grow into. Strictly going by what's between his legs alone, Liese is undoubtedly a girl, possessing all the necessary parts to determine that he’s indeed female, the other half of humanity capable of producing heirs. Yet, the high noble never sees himself as a woman and one only needs to focus elsewhere to see where he's coming from.
Standing at 163cm (5'4"), a sharp jawline and firm cheekbones, brows sculpted to enable a natural stern gaze, golden locks framing stoic sapphires, only the blind will not see that he's handsome. Far too many maidens have been charmed by his visage alone, a perfect fit for the role of a knight in shining armor, a fearless crusader that would vanquish the Dark Lord to free the captive princess. Said imagination isn't for show either as Liese does possess the athletic build necessary to properly use a knight's full suit, strong limbs and toned abs coupled with a lack of endowment mean there's no need for bindings or a custom-fitted chest plate. His hips are a bit wider than he'd like, but just like what's between them, it's something that he can't change with training alone, but fortunately, all but the most form-fitting of garments mask it quite well.
Burning with ambition to take back what he thinks has been stolen for him due to this preposterous notion of societal expectations based on his body alone, Liese carries himself like a Marquis' First Son and heir, and he makes sure everyone knows of his status and the prestige such a position deserves. In all occasions, whether formal, informal, or something in between, Liese wears clothes usually reserved for noblemen, one will never find him clad in a dress. Fortunately - or unfortunately depending on one's perspective - he genuinely wears them well, even more so than some other noble boys.
Character Conceptualization
The only child from the union of Marquis Childebert Ercwulf Brendorn, one of the four Lord Councilors, and Lady Hilda Engelberga Brendorn, the latter who tragically passed away during childbirth; their bond was so strong that the Marquis fell into grief for years upon years, refusing to touch another woman for his heart still belonged to his departed wife, leaving their only daughter, Liese, to grow up without the love of a mother and a grieving father.
Yet, perhaps precisely due to this, or perhaps because of fate, or a combination of the two, Liese grew up to be a self-reliant child; a confident, precocious infant, he wasn't like most young girls, preferring to take up activities usually reserved for boys such as fencing, archery, horseriding, and athletics in general, going as far as to shun corsets and dresses as those clothes restricted his movements too much. His penchant for utterly upending societal norms and traditions raised concerns from the more conservative members of the noble household, but given that he was the Marquis' sole offspring - and thus the primary heir by default - no one dared to do anything outside of inconsequential gossiping.
The ambition to be something more than just a lady-in-waiting to be married off to some nobleman and bear his children raged strong within him, he refused to be locked into a select path, and his magical talents seemed to reflect this as Liese is one of the rare individuals in the world capable of wielding all four major elements with equal proficiency, an Absolute. Between his myriad of talents, sanguine personality, and gift of Absolutism, rumor began to spread that he's the "Successor of Alexander", but... Alexander was a man and he was not, so it couldn't be him, right?
For the first decade of his life, Liese was the only child of her father and late mother, meaning he was the sole heir to the House of Brendorn, and honestly, that was how he prefers it. Twas' until Marquis Brendorn moved on from his grief and decided to marry another woman, a beautiful young lady of noble birth, one who possessed the gift of fertility as she gave him children after children, most of them sons. It was a blessing for the House, a boon for all... except for Liese. For the moment he realized that the agnatic primogeniture preference meant that her little brothers supplanted her position as the primary heir, and secondary, and tertiary; with each new son birthed from his stepmother's womb, he fell further and further into irrelevancy...
...and all for the singular reason that he wasn't born a boy.
Liese decided that enough was enough, he began plotting, scheming, devoting all of his efforts into the ultimate goal of becoming the one and true heir of House Brendorn. He went all-in, he had never liked being treated as a woman, but now, the event pushed him to completely shun that part of him. He was a man, First Son of Marquis Brendorn and the one true heir of House Brendorn, damn what everyone else says. After weighing his options, he decided that joining the Academy of Sentinel Knights was his best bet of realizing his destiny.
Once he becomes a full-fledged knight and distinguishes himself as the Champion of Grayle, as the Successor of Alexander, then no one can refuse him to take back what had been stolen from him. He would achieve this or die trying.
Other Information
❖ Color Code: fb3a81 ❖ Theme: Battlefield of Steel ❖ OOC Trivia: By some cosmic coincidence during character conception, Liese and Julian shares nearly identical physical appearance so their resemblance is an OOC coincidence, which can pose an interesting IC situation, just like people who resemble certain celebrities simply due to coincidences in the genetic lottery.
Full Name - Kaiser “Kai” Underwall Age - “Best Guess: 14 - 15” Gender - Male Heritage - Unknown - Presumably Abandoned, Non-native to Grandor Magical Affinity - Wind
-
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Two Way Mirror Perhaps due to his lack of socialization at an early age, Kai’s interactions with other people are…a little odd. He’s clearly very observant, to the point that his stare often makes people uncomfortable, but exactly what he’s “looking for,” could be anyone’s guess. He won’t often make the first move with someone he doesn’t know, but if they’ve proven kind to him at any point then he’ll have no fear of initiating contact with them–even if, perhaps, they’d rather he chose a less awkward time for it.
But, that first impression is key–because it will often determine how Kai himself interacts with that person. He will invariably, perhaps to the point of annoyance, match the energy that is given to him. If you greet him politely, he will return the manners. If you act aggressively, he will escalate to match your force. Only after several interactions will he act in a more “natural” way–maybe because it takes him that long to figure out what combinations of traits he should be using with a particular individual. Unfortunately, this also means he doesn’t exactly…do well in group settings, where multiple people are all talking or behaving differently at the same time.
Lawful AND Good The knight who adopted Kai must have seen right away what kinds of troubles his lack of social skills would get him into. As a result the boy was constantly drilled on the Knight’s Code, on ideals of chivalry, ethics, morality, and various laws and regulations. Yet while he might seem incredibly straight laced and logical sometimes, at other times he’ll cast an opinion or rule aside as if it doesn’t matter at all–and if asked for an explanation, you’re likely to get something to the effect of “I don’t think that’s of much help right now.” Rather than plan some sort of elaborate ruleset or procedure to accomplish a given task, even if it would help more people, Kai would rather do the most immediate good in the moment. It’s not to say he won’t ever consider thinking a few more steps ahead. But most of the time, he seems to take the stance of, “What can I, at this moment, with what I have, do to help?”
And when it comes to the question of evil? Most of the time, at that very moment, with what little he may have available, the answer is always a very stern, “I will make them stop. Now.”
Voracious Reader You would think, given his background, that Kai wasn’t one for intellectual pursuits. You…would not be entirely wrong. But, if there’s one thing everyone needs to know regardless of their natural born curiosity, it’s how to read and write, yes? The knight who raised him made sure Kai could do these, as well as what little math he could force into the boy’s thick skull. His penmanship is still horrible, but he can write. And not only can he read, Kai is an obsessive reader. He can easily become distracted by the words on the page of a student’s book in front of him, or by a scrap of paper that blows past his ankle on the road. He’ll lose track of hours in a good book, never taking his eyes out of it (although his body will actually react to some things without him being aware of it, often preventing a distraction). His favorite books are stories of heroes, and adventures to far-away lands, or biographical tales. Perhaps it's because of his own lack of experiences that he craves them vicariously.
S K I L L S E T
Wild Nature Kai seems to be physically talented in a way not many youths his age could be. He has no qualms scrambling up walls and trees, sometimes on all fours, or balancing himself from just about any position. Strong enough to hold himself in a handstand, or pull his whole body up over a branch, with just one arm. Fast enough in the water or on land to catch live prey with his bare hands. While his senses aren’t much “sharper,” than normal, he’s more aware of them–for instance, most people don’t pay much attention to their sense of smell unless it involves food, rot, or blood, but Kai can–after some time spent with them, of course–still differentiate between people entirely by scent. Combine this environmental awareness with his reflexes, and the boy proves to be quite adept at making the kind of on-the-fly decisions required by high-paced combat.
Explosive Results While he might be a prime specimen physically, Kai proves an exceedingly poor student of magic. He performs his particular speciality, the one Spell that seems to come by instinct, well enough. But given an Incantation of any other type, even that of his own element, the boy will never fail to…well, fail–with rather dramatic results. He can learn the words properly, or even draw the runes, if he practices it with dedication and determination. It’s just that he can’t seem to actually do it. Only his own, personal Spell has ever worked out for him–so that’s what he sticks with.
Wind Aura Sword Style - Void Slayer
An unknown bloodline, likely not even from Grandor. A strange blade of what seems to be Valefor craftsmanship–could that be where his heritage lies? Nonetheless, the rare and powerful ability of Aura awakened within Kai, and despite knowing nothing of Incantations or “proper” magic procedure at the time, he incorporated it flawlessly into his own particular fighting style. Sharpening the field of energy into a manifested blade from the “airspace” around him, Kai is able to project a slash from his sword over a distance, or enhance its cutting ability by overlapping the Aura with his sword. However, using his Aura to attack means that its usual “primary” nature as a defense against other magics is non-functional. Its current range limit is ten feet, and projected slashes (Slash Verdict) are not quite as strong as a “normal” slash without Aura. All Aura techniques are intensely draining. Currently only a single Verdict can be used before Kai has to get his breath back.
Physical Description
At 5’8” and 128 pounds, Kai’s build is about average for his age. However, for a boy, his long hair and smooth, pale skin don’t exactly seem the most masculine. He’ll probably be one of those knock-out “pretty boys” when he gets older and his muscles fill out more, but for now he seems like a ripe target for bullying by the bigger boys–may the gods help their souls.
For as much time as he spends outside, Kai doesn’t seem to tan very well. He tends to wear cloaks or thicker outer garments with hoods, and even in the summer he’ll often wear something long sleeved to keep from burning his arms. Other than that, though, his clothing is pretty plain and generally of whatever general fashion is popular among boys that age, just slightly above the commoners. His adoptive parent isn’t exactly rich or high ranking, but has been at his duties long enough to have accrued quite the substantial savings, so Kai never wants for much. At the same time, he’s not much of a fashionista–and he will literally give someone the shirt off his back if they ask him, perhaps not even so much out of kindness as just the fact that being seen without clothes doesn’t seem to bother him the way it does other people. Fitting, given his background.
His voice is a pleasant tenor, though it’s starting to break here and there. He doesn’t seem as self conscious about it as most other boys his age, but it does mean that listening to any attempt to sing is usually not met with standing applause.
His resting expression is a somewhat neutral, soft smile, just barely evident at the corners of the mouth. His eyes are bright and wide, frequently darting here and there whenever he sees something interesting–and then he stares for too long. He often walks with a confident stride, head up and chest out, and when standing still often defaults to a confident hands-on-hips stance. If he were taller and broader, it might actually be intimidating, but as he is now it comes off almost as playing pretend.
Character Conceptualization
Sir Kyner Sauvage had already raised two boys and married off a daughter, so what more was there for a Senior Royal Knight to do? Well, damn the hides of all those young bucks telling him to retire–dying alone and decrepit in his armchair would certainly not be his fate. Indeed, if they didn’t want to let him do what he wanted, out on the field where the real action was, then he would do what all those lazy sods didn’t want to do–take Wild duty at the End of the World.
The Curse of Fendal hadn’t been seen in Grandor for a hundred years, but with the Wild right on its doorstep it would be foolish not to remain vigilant against all manner of monster and demon. Down below those magnificent falls, the Knights who walked secret paths and set foot into dark, twisted jungle knew that evil might not be so far away as the commonfolk liked to believe. But Kyner was still stout of heart, and of arm–he hadn’t been a House Champion for nothing, some three decades ago–and so with torch and blade he joined the patrol at the bottom of the misty cliffs.
And one fateful day, not far beyond the treeline, he found not a monster, nor a runaway Dark Mage, nor even some lost knight finally making their way back to civilization. Sir Kyner stumbled upon a sleeping boy, sprawled in the grass without a care in the world–naked as the day he was born, save for the sword clutched in his hand. When the child awakened, Sir Kyner found he had no concept of language–or at least, not the tongue of Grandor–and seemed, for all intents and purposes, completely ignorant of the world. How long had he been surviving out here? Who had abandoned him here, and why?
A knight is sworn to protect women and children, widows and orphans, and thus the obvious thing for Sir Kyner to do was take the boy in. He searched for some time to try and find any scrap of information. But no missing child posters turned up, no family claimed him among the impoverished, the immigrants, or the refugees of war on the borders, and ultimately, no origin could be found. Even once they had bonded, and the boy learned to speak, he wouldn’t–or couldn’t–tell Kyner much about his life before they found one another. So, time passed, and the boy–Kaiser, called “Kai” for short–grew into a youth. And Kyner decided to enroll him as a Knight-in-Training, to give the boy some education at the least, and perhaps a purpose in life.
Kai was all too eager to swear that he would become a great Royal Knight, and save people wherever they needed his help–just like that day when “Gramps” had saved him, years ago.
It’s not magic or prehensile or anything, but his braided ponytail tends to…”show his mood,” one might say.
Despite all his physical prowess, Kai has a penchant to get sick more easily than one would think. There were several times not long after Sir Kyner brought him back to Grandor that he caught flus, colds, et cetera and suffered with them longer than usual. Perhaps, wherever he’s from, the diseases and medicines are different…
- Full Name - Eolnana “Elon” Anteskelia Age - 15 Gender - Female Heritage - Valeforian Meritocracy Magical Affinity - Wind, Fire; Lightning
-
Antagonistic Nihilist Eolnana doesn’t particularly like optimism or anybody, really. She’s a cynical nihilist who holds disdain for society, the universe, and everything in between. This energy is not something she keeps to herself either, as she will be quick to dismiss and antagonize people who she doesn’t like. Nothing matters, including their feelings.
Deadpan Snarker A dreary monotone is one of Eolnana’s most prominent features of her character. Even in disguise as Elon her words are slung like gravel and most usually at other people’s expense. One of the few joys in life away from home is throwing vicious sarcastic attacks at anybody who is annoying or those she wants to repel.
Pretentious Aficionado Eolnana has studied the sword… in every book she could get her hands on. While she has had some contemporary practice in dueling, everything she knows is from dawdling in her family’s personal library. This is extended toward any subject. In fact, Eolnana believes she is the smartest person in the room even when she isn’t.
-
Bardic Savant Girls are good at singing! And playing the harp! The words of Eolnana’s brother echo in her mind. She hates it when he’s right. Despite being a dour thing and monotone voice, when Eolnana drops the act she actually has a very pretty singing voice. She also knows how to play several instruments such as the lute and panflute with sharp precision. In another life she would be seen as a musical prodigy perhaps.
Capable Duelist Elon and Eolnana were trained by Sergio Andelmelia, a famous sword dancer in Valefor. Her brother took to it with more enthusiasm, but Eolnana was always the more cautious and ardent student, always trying to analyze Sergio’s every move. Since her brother’s sickness she has studied harder and harder to make sure when she pretends to be Elon that nobody will notice there’s a difference between their skill.
Daughter of the Storm Eolnana and her brother inherited the latent magical bloodlines that compose lightning. While her brother has taken to focus more on swordfighting, she has always been the opposite. Given she was already a girl who sat in the library surrounded by books and excelled in her studies, magical tomes and understanding sort of came naturally to her.
Physical Description
Eolnana is short even for a girl, so posing as a boy must make her seem particularly height disadvantaged. She stands at five-foot-three, with boys of her age often being five-to-six inches above her and trying to lord over her with the size difference. It doesn’t matter much to Eolnana–the taller they are, the harder and more violently they fall.
Her gray-blue eyes seem devoid of life and her brown hair is messy and uncouth. Her tan, desert-burned skin is probably her most distinct feature away from home. Her mother has told her that men see her as exotic and should be wary around them. Her physique is more athletic than it may appear for a young woman who may as well cite her residence as a library. She’s been doing drills alongside her brother for years and enjoys the art of the sword and spear as much as her twin does. She just likes books more.
Character Conceptualization
Fifteen years ago, Shende Anteskelia bore twins for her husband, the leader of a prominent mercantile dynasty in northern Valefor. They would name them Elon and Eolnana.
The Anteskelia Dynasty was old and “pure” by all accords. They were one of the closest things to nobility you could get in the region and several stories speculated their heritage dated back to the King of Thieves himself. Such a claim has been in contention since pretty much the first time it was uttered by an Anteskelia. It is something Eolnana has heard her entire life, though try as she can she has never seen the proof in the pudding despite inhabiting the great library every time she has found chance to.
The two siblings would grow close together, one heir to the patronage of the many guilds under Anteskelian control and the other a girl who was best suited in trying to sire an influential romance. Envy grew in Eolnana’s heart. She wanted to have the same agency as her brother, to live free and do what she wanted. She wanted to study magic with the best and brightest. She wanted to be seen as independent and recognized as the genius she saw herself as. Her brother barely could read, let alone lead the family! The more time she spent beside him training in the sword the more she resented the idea that she couldn’t be free. One day she began thinking on how to break her chains, how to escape her guardians or convince her parents.
When Elon fell ill the resentment moved inward, questioning how she could hope for such a thing. He had regalled her with all of his ambitions, his plans, his wants, and desires; how he was going to become a knight and how the ink was already dry.
Despite her regret in how she felt about everything, she found herself thinking. Plotting. Was this the way out? It was a serious sickness and his recovery could’ve been long. Craving an out she did the one thing she could. She sought out in a game of fantasy and decided that she would pose as her brother in his ambitions and take them for herself. If he recovered everyone wouldn’t care, the damage would already be done, and ultimately she would’ve proven what exactly she thought of her place in the world.
The Genius of Valefor would spread her wings and everyone would recognize her as one of the greatest knights to exist in the current age!
