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.
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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.
Clever Idiot How can one be so clueless and so sharp at the same time? Looking at Julian inside and outside of the arena, one could swear that she's two different people. In her day to day life, she's... unspeakably dense, to the point it'd be easy to write her off as a fool and be done with it. Yet in her training, as her squadmates have quickly had the misfortune to learn, she can be shockingly manipulative -- feigning fear or weakness to get her opponents to underestimate her only to bring them to their knees with a ruthless surprise attack, or making false starts and distracting motions to hide her real intentions as she palms a hidden weapon. But that begs the question -- how can she read her opponents well enough to play them like a fiddle when she can't even read the room?
She's certainly not telling, regardless. But one thing's for sure -- whoever taught her to fight clearly had a mean streak more than wide enough to cover for her own bumbling naivete.
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 - Lord Elidthianis Hawke Age - 15 Gender - Male Heritage - Grayle, The River Kingdom Magical Affinity - Absolute (Fire, Wind, Water, Earth)
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Karmic Abstinence The second son of the Northern Marquess.
Slated to become an aura user by fate itself.
Revealed to be the Absolute–the heir of Alexander.
Some could say Elidthianis Hawke has struggled with the idea of independence for his whole life. Outwardly, the snow-haired noble has never suggested he lacked confidence in himself or his family. Though at the root of it all, he has perceived himself to be at the whims of the cosmos and whatever gods existed beyond the mortal plains. Truth be told, he’s resented it all and the ramifications it has had upon his lived experiences. He doesn’t respect it, not in the slightest.
After all, why should he? Because of a prophecy? Of legend? Was it worth all of the lies, misfortunes, and deaths that he had attracted to his doorstep? This line of thinking continues to be internalized even today as Eli wonders what it means to be The Absolute. He desires freedom; trying to find his self-worth through his own actions despite the constant rattling he’s going about his life all wrong. In part, it is through the whispers he hears that he feels more conviction in his actions going forward even if they can become self-destructive in itself. Damn the gods. Damn the elders. Damn this world. He rejects what they decided for him. The only goal going forward is to find his own way and only listen to himself when it comes to matters of responsibility and purpose.
Absolute Honesty The values of nobility have been drilled into Eli’s head since he could understand words.
Ironically, through his life Eli has seen that virtues of nobility are a sham, nothing more than a way to excuse how the nobility treats others. The double standards, the useless gestures, the illusion of honor–it all showed him the reality of things. This is not to say there are no virtues the nobility claim to follow that Eli appreciates but more that he’s very selective in his adoption of said virtues.
“Only follow what is true in your heart. Trust your instincts and be true.”
The young lord doesn’t play games. He acts how he feels and feels how he acts. There’s no deception in his intentions. It can be said he’s something of a “truthteller” no matter how harsh or strange it may be. With various experiences of being the victim of duplicitous intentions he has made sure that he would be an open book to all those who would meet him going forward. The game of words is not one he plays, though how people interpret what he says is not something he’s particularly concerned with. He will laugh at a bad joke even if it's uncouth, he will taunt someone if he’s feeling confident, he will be the bearer of harsh truth rather than a gentle lie. This obsession with honesty has bled into how he sees others. If someone lies to his face he will remember it. And if they do not trust him with the truth it will be seen as a slight, not upon his honor, but upon his soul.
It is something he will have to work on in the future since there are many reasons someone would not be forthright with him. At the end of the day, Eli can still be a very unreasonable teenager.
The Duelmaster Ever since Eli has held a sword in his hands he has craved more. As his abilities as an aura user and as the Absolute have come to be known it has made him even more steadfast in his dedication to the art of the blade. Truly, the only place Eli has ever felt like himself has been in the dueling circle. But this has compounded into an issue.
Not only has Eli’s skills been sharpened by his latent aura affinities, but so too has his confidence and playfulness. Not only has the young lord been obsessed with learning multiple arts of swordplay, he has also found irritating his fellow nobles a particularly fun game. Irritation often can lead to impulsive challenges and Eli is very quick to ask them to fight him in a duel if they so choose. Why does he do such things? Well, arguably he does it because he wants to fight. Needs to fight. It is a passion that has filled his bones and blood since long before the assassination attempt he survived some years ago. Perhaps it made his impulses and instincts worse. His father seems to think so.
All he knows is he wants to fight. All the time. Anywhere and always.
Ignoble Casanova Eli’s reputation in the northern houses is… well, some could say he’s a bit too passionate and curious for his own good.
Even before he was declared an Absolute, Eli has more-or-less tainted the perception of who he is. People have always treated him well and he’s always had a knack for getting people to like him. He likes engaging with people, having interesting conversations, and knowing what makes them who they are. It didn’t help that he hit puberty a few years before boys of the same age.
By the time he left the north to become a knight, he had an assortment of girlfriends. It became a sort of embarrassment upon his house in that he would bounce around, chasing girls his own age or sometimes slightly older to the chagrin of their families. His playful, irreverent, and oftentimes ignoble antics often made Eli seem undesirable despite the fact he is an aura user and an absolute. There’s more to the story behind his trail of broken hearts, though Eli seems content to move on with his life and not think about it too much.
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Academically Apathetic In spite of Elidthianis’ reputation and remarkable skills for a fifteen-year-old, he is lacking in many areas. In terms of the skills fit of a noble and a knight, one could say he’s an idiot. Eli’s lack of interest in the academic arts (as opposed to the martial arts) has led to him barely finding the energy to think on anything that was written because things that are written are frankly boring to him. Logistics? Economics? Theology? Medicine? Mathematics? It’s all entirely outside of his depth.
Once in a Generation Once in a generation the stars sing their song and a human is born with the ability of the gods at his fingertips and that person is destined to be a great sage of the world. Elidthianis was born in such a way, though he cares little for it, he holds the abilities of an absolute, allowing all forms of magic to be at his disposal.
However, due to his lack of real interest in becoming a sage and rather a knight, it has complicated such things. Eli may have the powers of fire, wind, earth, and water at his disposal but you will never hear an incantation or hand sign. Those aware of his abilities may find it a waste, but Eli personally feels strongly that he is who he is and not what others or even the cosmos have designed. He has one goal and that is to be a great knight who is capable of fighting great battles. Perhaps one day they will see him how he sees himself.
Skilled Duelist Ever since he was a child, Elidthianis has desired the sword.
From the stories of the legends in the past to the displays of knights in the modern day, Eli has craved it. The raw competition, the echoes of steel meeting steel, the meeting of brain and brawn–there’s nothing quite like being a knight in a dueling circle. Foregoing a proper magical education for the sword was an uphill battle, but every chance Eli got his hands were reaching for a blade. When his father relented when his magical studies seemed to plateau, it was then that Eli could finally be left alone to do what he wanted to do.
Physical Description
Lord Elidthianis Hawke bears the appearance of a high noble of Grayle… for the most part.
Standing at average height of a male of eastern Grayle for his age, Eli appears to look like a young man who represents his house and country to the best of his abilities. Notably, his once raven-black hair has faded into the color of snow. Those who knew him before the incident might not immediately recognize him due to this, but the same kind smile and determined blue eyes carry in his appearance.
Character Conceptualization
Elidthianis Hawke never asked for his lot in life.
But the cosmos had other plans from the very beginning. Born underneath a shooting star on one of the coldest nights in a unforgiving, harsh winter, the gods almost had announced themselves from the beginning what Eli’s life would entail.
His father, Gandimere Hawke, is the Marquess tasked with protecting the northernmost lands from threats of all kinds to the Kingdom of Grayle, no matter who they should be. They are the least powerful of the four Marquesses who run the Council of Lords underneath the Grand Duke. As the second son born through Gandimere’s marriage to Rimillie Edenbridge, Eli may not have been the heir to all things underneath the northern mountains of Grayle, but it would not take long for the fates to announce themselves to the realm on who he was supposed to be.
But before such an announcement came Eli’s youngest days were in the court of his family’s estate, a castle etched into the mountains known as The Aerie. It would be here that he witnessed his first duel between two knights over the hand of a beautiful young noblewoman. Perhaps it was the fantasy crafted through his young eyes, of seeing the spectacle of steel meeting steel, that drew him to the art of the sword. Perhaps it was his abject loneliness and the lack of his father's presence at home. Whichever the case, it began his earliest interest in the art of swordsmanship. His mother elected a tutor to mentor him in this art and eventually it came to be his passion.
That is, until the incident happened.
At nine-years-old, Eli had become competent enough with swordplay and his escapades of chasing girls his own age (and older) had come to be known. His family fatigued by his antics hoped that something could set him back on the path. However, during an assassination attempt on his family’s life in the summer of that year, something miraculous came to be and changed the entire perception of Eli as not only a Hawke but as a person in general. In the face of awful circumstances, Eli attempted to fight the assassins sent to take his and his family’s lives with not the skill or strength to do so. Realistically, the majority of the Hawke family should have died on that day. Instead, Eli wielded magic for the first time in his life and defeated the agents. Unfortunately, it did not save his mother’s life and the near death experience still rattles in his brain to this day.
When he awoke the once raven-haired noble found his hair as white as snow and his mother gone. The damage to the castle from his untrained magical abilities seemed irreparable and for the first time in some time his father came to his side. After they buried the dead it started a spiral of things for Eli, though suddenly the magnifying glass seemed to be upon him. Experts made certain he was an absolute and he maintained study in the martial arts. Friends came and went, Eli’s first real romances blossomed and wilted, and the pressure of society seemed to grow heavier by the minute. Only one thing remained as his solace: the art of the blade.
It would be this passion that would lead him to be where he feels he belongs.
- Full Name - Lady Luenciel Aelissia Navietas Age - 15 Gender - Female Heritage - Grayle, The River Kingdom Magical Affinity - Water
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Gentle As An Autumn Rain Grayle has not been kind to Luenciel—or Lucien, as the case may be. Her mere existence has ever been met with voices hushed in fear—"If you ever see the Ill-Starred child you'll be cursed."—and raised in anger—"Why should we let it live just because it's a noble!?"—for her whole life. And yet, despite everything levied against her...Luen is a soft, kind person. Though her social interaction up to this point has been limited, she hasn't changed, and they all point to the same thing: patient, gentle, caring, almost to a fault. That's not to say that she's gullible or easily taken in, not exactly. Rather, even when someone irks her, gets on her nerves, is a pain to be around; even then, she still cares.
Quiet As A Winter Mist Though, that might not be immediately apparent sometimes if you don't know her. In order for her to show that caring side of her she (not always, but usually) needs to speak first. It's not like she's shy or a wallflower, that's not why she's quiet. She's always tended that way, really. Just a generally quiet person, And the wire that she walks now to avoid being discovered has only made this more prominent. She is keenly aware that her voice is not a man's. And while she can get away with it for now, there's always a chance someone will realize she's out of place. So the less she talks, the safer she is from discovery and expulsion.
Fierce As A Summer Storm And expulsion is something she does not want. For all the noblewoman in her blood, all the quietude in her manner, all the kindness in her soul...she's still training to be a knight. And that means something. It means that despite her alignment to water, there's still a fire in her, one that is impossible to snuff out. And though slow to rouse, when that fire is stoked, she turns from a quiet child with too many rumors floating around about her to a skillful, relentless, and vicious warrior that belies her sheltered and pampered upbringing.
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Crest Of The Wave Luen doesn't carry a weapon. Ever. But that doesn't mean she's ever unarmed.
The bracers that wrap around her forearms are scored all over with lines of runic script, each of which corresponds to a spell in Luen's trademark arsenal. She uses very little magic directly. Rather, it all gets filtered through the elaborate runes on her bracers. They conduct the water. Run it along their conduits. And finally, the water—whether liquid or simply condensed from the air—takes shape in her hand, and becomes a weapon. A rapier, a glaive, a spear, an axe, a knife; all of these and more are available to her through her bracers, and only dissipate when she lets them, loses focus, or loses consciousness. Her longer left bracer can additionally create arrays—from one to six, depending on focus, time, and available water—of watery knives that launch themselves at her foe.
Some may say that she's vulnerable without her bracers. It's true, she is. Take them from her, and she becomes a normal teenage girl. But good luck getting to them through the storm.
Born Under A Baleful Star Curse-child. Ill-starred. Monster. Thing. Killer.
Rumors have spread a long way from the Navietas household over these past years. Whispers down the lane, growing ever more distorted as they've slithered from house to house, ear to mouth to ear again. Dead-pale skin, like a corpse. And it only spun out as time had gone on, and her seclusion had remained. Red eyes, red like blood. And though she lived in quiet, these rumors—stark white hair, like all the light was drained from it—circled back around to her. Though her father tried to head them off as best he could, he was never able to stop her from wondering whether or not she's really safe to be near. After all, when something is repeated often enough...
...You start to believe it.
Quickstep It might be surmised by her slim lines, weaker physique, and the fact that she uses magical water-blades instead of any real weapon, but Luenciel is not what you would call strong. It's very likely that almost everyone else around her could overpower her through raw strength without a huge deal of effort (except maybe Julian).
And yet, she's still a competent combatant, because as much as she lacks in might, she makes up more than enough for with speed and technique. Doesn't matter if you're weaker if you're too agile for them to hit you, and too good for them to block (she can thank her dad for that one).
Physical Description
Ah, Lady Luenciel. To say that she cuts a striking figure would be something of an understatement. Much taller than her poor late mother was, she falls nearly to her father's height at an unusual and surprising 174cm. More intriguing is that she looks nothing like either of them, really; where her parents have tan skin, dark hair, dark eyes, Luen is none of those things. Whispers throughout the courts told of the Navietas child, born under an unlucky star, bleached of color, and light, and life. Quiet. Watching. Waiting. And everyone knows so little about this ill-fated child. Age, creed, name, even gender; all hazy and indistinct. Her father's reticence is proof: something about the second child of House Navietas is wrong.
Though, that's not quite the truth. As far as Lady Luenciel Navietas knows...she's simply unlucky.
Nobody quite knows why she looks the way she does. Not her family, not the soothsayers her father sought, not the books that she's read. But it's probably not from some kind of magical curse like people assume she has or is. Her ghost-pale skin; her stark icepick-white hair; her narrow eyes, dyed a vivid sanguine crimson; just how she is. A strange, unfortunate twist of fate that would perhaps not be called normal, but...harmless.
Tall, lithe, slender. Stick thin and skinny. While once upon a time she wore them openly, she tends to hide these aspects as best she can now, obscuring them with voluminous, billowing cloaks. Lucky she is indeed that she has very little obviously visible curvature, though underneath her clothing, she wears a well-kept, tightly wrapped sarashi to, as she would put it, "tighten everything up." Always best to ensure no clothing laying oddly on what should be a slender boy's frame gives her away, after all. What an embarrassing way to be exposed that would be. Her long, high cheekbones can give her a haughty, arrogant look that she tries her best to avoid.
Since determining her own fate to be a knight (or at least a cadet), she's had to change the way she carries herself quite a bit. Though she can't avoid the graceful, gliding steps that are so baked into her now, the primness in her bearing has gone the way of her her once-habitual curtsies and urge to take up less space. The urges are still there—one does not simply shrug off the years—but she's become quite practiced at avoiding them now.
...For the most part.
Character Conceptualization
Earl Asceron Navietas, Lord of a military family, is a man stricken by grief. His first child, Dicen, was a fine young man. He would've been eighteen now, by Asceron's reckoning. But he was taken young. Not by fire. Not by war. A strange fever that refused to break ravaged him, turning his tall, fit form into a shivering, wasted thing before finally, mercifully, letting him slip softly away into the night. And that, on top of his wife dying soon after childbirth years before, giving him his second child: a girl, who she named Luenciel before she passed. And a bizarre child she was; from the moment she opened her crimson eyes, Asceron knew that something was strange. And when her hair grew in stark and white, he was ever more concerned for her.
Her strange appearance, and Asceron's grief at Enuiel's passing, caused her life to be sheltered, secluded one from the beginning. And the spreading rumors—no doubt house staff who'd caught glimpses of white hair and red eyes, Asceron thought—convinced him quite well that he was right to do so. The outside wasn't just indifferent to her. It was outright hostile.
For years, she sought solace in her father and her brother. Though...at one point, her uncle came to visit. She'd never seen him before, but...he seemed nice, right? And the rumors hadn't truly found their way to her yet. He saw his niece, one of the very few that Asceron had let see her at all. He was nice. Gave her candy, patted her on the head, went to bed, and...the next morning, tripped and fell down the stairs. Broke his neck. And just like that, dead.
More grief from Asceron. Condolences from Dicen. And...confusion from the seven-year-old Luenciel.
A few years later, an elderly woman who lived next door to their house broke several bones from a fall and couldn't get up. She lived alone, and her voice wasn't loud enough. Unable to move, she stayed there until she died.
A year after that, a vendor hawking his wares in the street below seized, and his movement ceased as his heart stopped beating in his chest.
And then, when she was twelve...Dicen.
So very grief-wracked now, Asceron kept Luen inside not just for her own sake, but for his own. As strange as she looked, she was his last family. He wanted so desperately to keep her close. And though nobles came and went, events were held and released from the manor of the Navietas—though he told her to stay in her room, flashes of her were noticed, just barely, and the rumors intensified—the years passed, and Luen remained.
By now, though, she'd heard the rumors. So, so many of them. Enough that she started to believe them some: that her being around someone put them in danger. So she looked at her father. She looked at his glaive on the wall. She looked inward. Did she really want to be locked away like this for her whole life?
No. No, she wanted to make something of herself. She wanted to see the outside for herself. She wanted to talk to people. She wanted to escape her curse. And as she thought of these things, an ember kindled itself in her chest. What she wanted was...
...To fight.
Two more years passed in the blink of an eye. She trained with her father, learning from him how best to leverage her water magic and creating her bracers. She remained inside. And then, as she packed to leave, she sat down with her father again. She talked to him about names. About how she wouldn't be able to go by hers, and would need to find a man's name. Her father—upset she was leaving, but unable to bring himself to stop her—thought for several minutes as they sat together in silence one last time.
"...Lucien."
And so, Lucien Navietas—scion of the Navietas family and a cursed child born under an ill-fated Star—left her—his—family home. To see. To talk. To escape.
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.
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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. This honor also surfaces as kindness to those close to him, dedicating himself to improving the skills of all those around even if they show him disrespect or dishonor. Unfortunately, an obsession with honor also comes with an obsession of reputation. And any who dishonor the name of Nathaniel Lothwren can expect the cadet to do everything in his power to put the rumors of his deserving to be a knight to rest... even if it means humiliating friends on the training grounds.
Absentminded While Nathaniel is a genius when it comes to study and his dedication to honing his crafts, he has a tendency to lose himself in his thoughts and personal musings. He is the kind of person to constantly walk into a room and have forgotten why he is there by the time he arrives. His absentmindedness leaves him constantly forgetful of social details, and blissfully unaware of accidental or surprise reveals when he is lost thinking about combat, strategy, magic, history, or honor. Nathaniel also has a tendency to burn coffee whenever he brews some for his 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. His proficiency especially in using both a one-handed and two-handed style on the fly is notable. He pairs this with a buckler for defense. The trick is figuring out how to get that training to work in a live combat scenario, as a lot of Nathaniel's training has been through form drills or "technical spars." These spars have involved little in terms of teaching how to properly fight an enemy, and are more designed to show how forms can be used against others. While this might put Nathaniel ahead of those who have hardly ever picked up a sword before, he still has to learn how to apply his knowledge and fragmented combat skills to the chaos of combat.
Fire Aura Form - Phoenix Stride While Nathaniel prefers to focus on his traditional martial skills, Nathaniel accepts his role as one of the aura users of his generation. While skilled in some fire invocations, his true underlying skill involves being able to tap into an aura of flame. Nathaniel's stamina is not particularly exceptional, leading the budding knight-in-training to develop a very basic use for it: bursts of supernatural speed. Nathaniel can use the tiniest, wildest bursts of magical fire to propel a simple movement (a step, a swing of the sword, a jump, etc.) faster and farther than typically possible. Nathaniel is working on developing his physical stamina to permit longer and more sustained uses of his aura, but is incapable of much else at this time. Whenever his aura is being used, however, fire trails off of Nathaniel's body or weapon to leave fiery after-images of his movements.
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. On top of 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 sword: a bastard sword. Nathaniel preferred the versatility and flow of switching between one and two handed stances with a hand and a half blade, with some teachers even recommending the use of a buckler in the off-hand to provide extra protection. He would quickly work his way to the top of his classes, 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 technical spars.
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
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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 – Dot "Dorothy" Mummer Age - 14 Gender - Female Heritage – Alexandrian, with ancestral ties to Grayle. Magical Affinity - Light
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P E R S O N A L I T Y
My Song is Fury There was a time when Dot saw the world as her mother did: a shining sprawl of adventure, filled to bursting with wonderful sights and friends waiting to be made. She gave her smiles freely and often, and saw the best in those she met, even when they didn’t deserve it.
That time has passed.
The girl that left Alexandria sees the world differently now. Sprawling, still, but like a corpse, filled not with promise but festering with the maggots of aristocracy. What was once a starry-eyed thirst for glory and adventure has soured into a bitter cynicism. Her smiles are guarded behind a cold wall of distrust, and she has a bad habit of assuming the worst in just about everyone she meets—especially those she perceives as nobility.
Short-tempered, driven, and loathe to let go of a grudge, Dot is likely not what Grayle expected of the Heir of Light.
That suits her just fine.
My Dance is Justice Dot is not angry without reason—at least, not in her mind—and certainly not without purpose. In the nations of Grayle and Alexandria, where the strong do what they can and the weak endure what they must, she sees nothing but megalomaniacal beasts clawing over one another for the privilege of tormenting those beneath them. To them everything is a game, and every person a piece to be weighed, judged for its value, and then discarded. No heed is given to the lives they ruin, the suffering they mete out, or the fear they’ve sown so deeply into the populace that no one would even consider standing against them.
Nothing would please Dot more than to remind the nobles of Grayle how human they are. How human she is, despite the heap of ancient glory she acquired by virtue of being born. Where once her undue gifts repulsed her, she now sees the potential to bring an overdue balance to the country’s elite.
For the Light no longer serves a country, it serves a people.
My Love is Honor The downside to laying immense responsibility and expectation upon a child is that, no matter their capabilities, at the end of the day you’re still laying immense responsibility and expectation upon a child.
Dot is fourteen. She’s spent half her life locked in a tower, training for the day she might get to affect real change on the world. But the truth is that it’s been so long since she was actually in that world, and as much as the systems that govern it disgust her, she still missed it. Beneath the angry veneer is a girl longing for the wonderment of a lost childhood; companionship, adventure, the safety of trust. She's forgotten the sound of her own laughter, or what it feels like to confide in someone.
Yet she can’t reconcile these desires with her own, self-imposed duty. If she can’t put herself aside for the greater good, then what’s the point? What separates her from the people she despises?
Fidelity to her cause has seeded guilt deep within her, and Dot struggles constantly with her own morality. Is she really ready to bear the consequences of making so many enemies? And if she is, can she really do that alone?
She doesn’t want to be alone.
S K I L L S E T
The Heir in Cold Light The successor of Arbert Grayle, born to a vagabond in Alexandria. There’s an irony there lost entirely upon Dot, who could hardly be more disgusted with her gift than she already is. Having spent only a year performing menial infusions for the Sages’ research, once Verite allowed her other avenues to train, she scarcely ever summoned her aura again.
However, hearing how so many of Grayle’s elite harbor powerful magics of their own has her reconsidering. If the stories are true, and the Light can be harnessed for the purposes of negation, then perhaps she can yet turn the curse of her legacy towards a better cause.
There is, of course, a long way to go. She is effectively starting from nothing—over the years she’s lost her touch with even the meager feats she performed as a child. The idea of learning from the very people she seeks to unseat twists her stomach, but in the end, she knows, it will be worth it.
Balletic Grace As Dot’s memories of Lerenna begin to fade, what remains is her mother’s spirit. She danced them across Alexandria, with enthralling grace born from her time as a warrior. When she finally achieved some measure of freedom in the Sages’ Tower, learning to dance was the first thing she thought of. Verite spared no expense. He brought in tutors from every corner of Alexandria, Valefor and beyond, and she met their instruction with an almost innate talent.
Fast, nimble, with the balance and coordination of a cat, at fourteen Dot already bears Lerenna’s grace in full. Be it in simple clothes or lightweight, piecemeal armor, her movements are fluid and unencumbered.
Alone her dances are sharp and captivating, but her brand of performance prefers a partner.
Mummer's Waltz In learning swordplay, Dot had several obstacles to overcome; chief among them was the fact that she had decided upon a greatsword as her weapon of choice. Training with lighter wasters served well enough to develop her foundation, but the next issue arose when she met her tutors.
She could not, or perhaps simply refused to, divorce her dancing from her swordsmanship. Waster in hand, she would twirl, and dip, and leap, and every time she fell, or tripped, or threw herself off balance, she got right back up. Her tutors were baffled and incensed, demanding she use proper form. Fighting, they said, was ugly, brutal, and above all, practical.
But Verite saw differently, and much like how he had fostered her anger, he chose to nurture her peculiar style into something wonderful. He dismissed her tutors, and took up the role of teacher himself. Much to Dot’s surprise, he was incredibly well-versed, matching and surpassing both the tutor’s skills and her own elegance, as though he’d been fighting and dancing his whole life.
For six years this was her morning noon and night. Hard training as well as the exercise to ensure she could wield her sword as gracefully as she danced. Though she never managed to best Verite in their spars, he did invite other youthful trainees to measure her against. There, her unorthodox style and swordsmanship granted her a taste of victory.
It was addictingly sweet, and by the time she left for Grayle, she was eager to taste it again.
Physical Description
Despite her best efforts, Dot does not strike an imposing figure. She’s short, and still carries a youthful countenance even when she’s glowering. When she must begrudgingly don the long dresses and frilled skirts of nobility, her pale-gray hair and glassy eyes lend her a doll-like appearance. Normally, she can be found wearing simple clothes, plain and well-fitting from shirt to boots, save for the addition of waist or shoulder cloaks.
She moves with incredible grace, calm and measured even when her emotions are high. While not exactly stealthy, her height and the ghostly ease with which she navigates can take her in and out of a room before she’s so much as noticed.
As a result of all this, seeing her heft such a mighty weapon might come as a surprise. Part of her strength undoubtedly comes from her aura, but the majority of it is borne from years of rigorous training. Dot’s stature belies a form of hardened muscle, maintained through determination and routine conditioning, as well as the agile flexibility required of a dancer.
Character Conceptualization
Two elegant, curved swords once wielded by the nomad Lerenna. Red ribbons are fastened to each pommel, meant to be twirled and spun as part of a performance, but their fabric is shorn short and faded by the sun.
A woman of no nation, they say Lerenna fought on a hundred fronts in her youth, but eventually grew weary of battle and sought a more colorful life. After her adventures in Grayle, she traveled the roads of Alexandria as a roving entertainer with a new name, and a new daughter.
It is said that when she visited Ferrous Shore, Baron Auferrum was so taken by her performance that he offered her board in his own keep so that she might dance for his court.
“Listen close, daughter-mine. To truly live in this world you must do three things: Sing loudly, dance boldly, and love bravely.”
A cracked emblem depicting a star crossing over the dull gray sands of the Ferrous Shore, once the symbol of House Auferrum.
The evening Dot Mummer’s aura manifested, Baron Auferrum was the first to act. He confined his guests to their quarters, permitting none to leave his keep save only for Lerenna, who he had named traitor, and banished. With the Heir of Light in his custody, he sought to elevate his House, and his own station, by demanding the Sages’ Tower reinstate him.
Instead, they had him murdered, and Dot was seized from the Ferrous Shore. Without its head, House Auferrum quickly collapsed, its territories picked apart by rival neighbors. Now its legacy shines as brightly as its sands.
A broken, silvery shard carved with a latticework of markings. Embers of pale light still glint upon its surface.
Dot was seven when she was brought to the Sages’ Tower, where her confusion and tearful pleas for her mother were met by the Sages’ deaf ambitions. Tutored by a man named Verite, she was put to work immediately. Day in and day out, she channeled her light into all manner of objects, while the scholars studied her.
These stones were her greatest challenge, drinking greedily from her aura, but breaking like glass when they grew too full. It took nearly a year to infuse one properly. Dot grew embittered, not only with the Tower, but with herself. The wonderment of magic soured, and she began to view her divine heirdom for what it truly was: a leash.
It is said that by the time she was only eight, the golden brilliance of her magic had withered to a cold, lunic white.
Solid and heavy, the blade is weathered from years of practice. At first, Dot could not so much as lift this sword off the ground, but that did not deter her—she was determined to make it her dance partner.
Though his excursion was brief, Verite returned from Grayle a different man. Upon reuniting with Dot, he threw himself down and inexplicably begged forgiveness for her treatment. He confided in her a deep resentment for the Sages’ cruelty and the confinements of the Tower. Though he could not free her, he asked her what she would study had she the choice.
Dot told him she wanted to dance. Then she told him she wanted to fight. He agreed to teach her both.
A letter sealed in golden wax, hand-delivered to Dot at the Sages’ Tower. Though sweetly worded, the invitation’s undertones are clear: ‘return the heir to her proper home, or face severe consequences.’
Dot loathed to go, though not for any love of Alexandria. By her fourteenth year she had developed a conspiratorial camaraderie with her mentor, who had nurtured her desire for revenge upon the aristocracy. His stories of Grayle were plenty, and painted a horrid picture of a land ruled by people every bit as corrupt as the Sages.
When she received the summons, Dot was said to have ripped it in half right in front of the courier. However, she did not refuse them. Instead, she asserted that if she was to go to Grayle, she would earn her keep in the way afforded even to the peasantry: by becoming a knight.
A simple document confirming Dot’s identity, though her parentage is incomplete. While it lists her name as ‘Dorothy Mummer’, she insists that her mother never called her that.
By the time she left Alexandria, Dot had come to consider Verite as her true father. On the eve of her departure, he entrusted her with a plan.
The thought of meeting the man responsible for her curse enraged her, but even as she entered Grayle, no one in the royal family had stepped forward to claim her. Content to let them hide, Dot set her sights on knighthood. They could not avoid her forever, and as the heir of Light, she would shine down on every shadow until she found them.
Then, as so many things that lurk in shadows do, they would burn.
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.
