[CHAR] Strangeland | Legends Never Die

[Blu]

Personal Information
Name: Aglovale "Aglo" Pennore
Epithet: Sir Aglovale of the Brightsword; Bright Lord Aglovale; Aglovale of Tarvayne
Age: 100+ (Appears 17)
Sex: Male
Date of Birth: July 24^th
Legends Slain: Kingslayer Esclabor; Great Iron King; Salamander Zant; Good Blood Witch; The Beast of Tarvayne
Slain By: The Five Heavenly Kings

Appearance:

---

Height: 5'05"
Weight: 114 lbs
Mark Appearance: Click Here
Mark Location: Left side of chest

Personality:

Aglovale, or as his close compatriots refer to him simply as Aglo, is characterized predominantly by his frankness and straightforward attitude. He is also known for his utter fearlessness both on and off the field of battle. Despite appearing to be a very calm and composed person, Aglovale is quick to anger against those he find disrespectful and, especially, those who threaten his allies. Ever since his unusual resurrection, Aglovale seems to have developed a dark side when under the influence of the bloodlust. He becomes cold, quiet, ruthless, and murderous unless he finds a way to satisfy his dark urges. In his long life, Aglovale has managed to acquire many allies as well as enemies but none of his other relationships matter more than of that between him and his adopted daughter, Morgan. Aglovale's closest comrades describe Morgan as, "the only person Aglovale truly loves." Aglovale's deepest regret is that he died before he could say goodbye to his daughter.

Lore:

Much of Aglovale's early childhood is unknown. He was abandoned in the small village of Tarvayne located near the mountain regions of the Great Continent. He was taken in by the chapter of the Holy Church located within the village. Aglovale was an odd child. He never spoke more than a word or two to anybody and always seemed to disappear off somewhere during all hours of the day. However, even as a child, he harbored great potential within himself. When a gigantic beast began terrorizing the village of Tarvayne, the villagers were quick to entertain the idea of abandoning their homes. But at only the age of nine, Aglovale, with a makeshift spear in hand, traversed the mountains to face the beast in its lair. The result? Aglovale came back to the village with the beast's severed head in tow, impaled on the spearhead.

The tale of Aglovale of Tarvayne began to spread to the nearby towns and settlements. "The Beast of Tarvayne was slain by a mere child," the stories went. Aglovale became somewhat of a small legend in that local region as a result of his brave action. Consequently, the sisters of Tarvayne's chapel decided to send Aglovale to Pendragahst, the capital city of Astoria, to join the ranks of the Holy Church. But once he got there, he instead showed such great prowess that he was recruited as a Knight of the First Sword - Lord Galant's personal army; Aglovale was only fifteen at the time. In his time as a Knight of the First Sword, Aglovale vanquished the likes of the Good Blood Witch and the fearsome dragon, Salamander Zant. From the mountains of treasure hoarded by Salamander Zant, Aglovale received two weapons of legendary fame: the Brightsword Caliburn and the Demon Sword Wrathbone.

As the years went by, the names "Sir Aglovale of the Brightsword" and "Bright Lord Aglovale" were immortalized by the people of the kingdoms and beyond. The bards sing praises of Aglovale's heroic exploits and adventures. "The lord who wield the Brightsword Caliburn," they would sing in his honor. In the later years of his life, Aglovale relinquished his title of Knight when he saved a little girl named Morgan - his adopted daughter. Aglovale retired and opened up his own tavern in the hopes of living out the rest of his life in tranquil bliss. Of course the curse of the immortalized had other plans for him. Aglovale, by request of the Holy Church, went on to slay the Great Iron King and even Kingslayer Esclabor who was once one of Lord Galant's most trusted knights. But for some reason after fulfilling the request, Aglovale turned rogue and went after the Five Heavenly Kings who are stern allies of Lord Galant and the Holy Church considering their involvement in the war against the Church of the Good Blood.

Alas, he alone was not enough to fell the Five Kings. Their might proved too much for the Bright Lord and his death came swiftly. In the final moments of his life, all Aglovale could think about was his regret of not being able to say goodbye to Morgan. That day, a legend was ended. It wasn't until years later that the blight arrived and began to resurrect the dead; with one of the risen being the Bright Lord, himself.

Combat Information

Equipment:

Caliburn: A legendary weapon of lore said to have been wielded by a great king preceding the Age of Blood, the Caliburn is also known by the epithet, the Brightsword, because of its innate ability to control light. Interestingly, Caliburn's power scales by the time of day. Starting at sunrise, the Caliburn gradually grows in strength until it reaches its apex at noon then it begins to diminish in power until nightfall. Furthermore, Caliburn has two additional forms it can change into: a longsword and a greatsword. In its passive state, it exists as a shortsword with a blade length of only two feet. The wielder of this sword must be deemed worthy by the sword, itself, before they can access its other forms.

Wrathbone: The Demon Sword Wrathbone is a legendary weapon said to contain monstrous amounts of power. During the Age of Blood, the Wrathbone appeared in the world and was wielded by a powerful demon knight whose name was lost in history, overshadowed by this very blade. The sword thrives off the blood of its victims, growing increasingly more powerful with every foe it slays. Furthermore, it feeds off of its wielder's rage, growing stronger as a result of it; hence the name "Wrathbone". The full potential of this sword is unknown because, for some reason, Aglovale is highly reluctant to use it.

Bright Lord Armor: The set of armor worn by the legendary Bright Lord himself. Crafted from dragon fire-tempered steel and dragon bone from Salamander Zant, this armor is powerful enough to deter Aglovale from the idea of using a shield during his time with the Knights of the First Sword. However, ever since his retirement from the Knights, Aglovale has retired the armor.

Techniques/Spells:

Slaying Wave: When Caliburn's blade is enveloped in light energy, Aglovale can release it as a destructive wave of power capable of cutting through thick rock. The speed of the attack is also quite impressive. At release, it can cover a distance of 110 meters in about four seconds.

Counter: This technique was created by Aglovale out of necessity due to the fact that he does not use a shield. Using a sword, in this case Caliburn, Aglovale can redirect an opponent's attack in full when timed at the correct moment. Depending on his preference, Aglovale can redirect the attack right back at its user or even towards another enemy. Of course, Aglovale can only use his Counter if an enemy has initiated an attack first.

Bright Lord's Spear: When Caliburn is enveloped in light energy, Aglovale can thrust the blade at an encroaching enemy and release the light energy in a straight line. The result will be a spear-like attack that can potentially impale the strongest of armor.

[deadpixel101]

Name: Serria Serquies

Epithet: The Blood Moth

Age: Died at age 35

Sex: Female

Date of Birth: May 4th

Legends Slain: Tarius The Soulweaver, Goldaf Of the Stone and Terrium The Plant-borne.

Slain By: Aldwiv, master of the mirror.

Appearance:

Serria stands at the height of 6'4, with pale skin of snow white, matching shock silver hair and wears a long gown of the same pure tone. Her eyes are a piercing red, and surrounded by a black sort of warpaint. Her nose is long and curved a bit upwards, her jawline is sharp and her cheekbones defined. Lithe in build she hides a toned muscle crafted through practice, and not weight lifting. Has long pointed ears, each with a red ring pierced through them. Has a set of obsidian light armor under her outer robe.

Personality:

Serria is a large explosive with a long fuse. She is quite often reserved if not cheeky or opinionated, though when angered she holds nothing back. Having a soft side she will search for people akin to her or others she has loved in the past, and will attach a sentiment to them easily. Not the most expressive she can be described as stoic and may come off as cold. Despite her age always sees the world as a mystery, and loves to learn of something new, no matter how trivial or small. Protective of her property or things she loves.

Lore:

Serria was once the daughter of a country blacksmith, living secluded on the hillside it is where she grew accustomed to hard work, stoicism and through her father, violence. Always having wanted a son, Galloway, her father would push many masculine aspects on his daughter. She grew learning how to wield and craft blades, and what the values of being strong and valiant really are. At the age of 16, her father passed, falling ill and passing away. Working as best she could for near a year she managed to stay at her home alongside her fathers grave for another year, though could not find and proper work, and was forced to leave when the tax-collectors came along. At age 18 she was still a wanderer, looking for a place to be. Having been accosted by one or two bandits ion her time, she had started down the path of the battle hardened. Her odd magic awoke at age 19, and by destroying a caravan of thieves, she finally put herself on the map, while also painting a target on her back. Having to deal with many more angry allies of the caravan, she found other alike her, and those not so much. By age 23 she was second in command of her own group, a guild built for collecting bounties, the hard way. After a counter attack two years later, she was appointed the new leader. Burying the past leader, she found herself looking for a new direction to steer her crew at. Plotting their revenge Serria began the long journey to rid the world of Tarius the Soulwever. A vagrant who placed himself in political favor, he twisted systems and used the people as peons to strengthen himself. He had commissioned for an ancient amulet to be stolen, this was stopped by Serria before, which caused for the attack that ended the last guild-leaders life. After long years and aging to 29, Serria had already slain two legends, and become one of her own. Cornering Tarius with twisted political schemes and brute force, she was able to rid the kingdom, and find herself now in political favor. Though grabbing power never went without losing something. Her guild was wiped by another legend. Aldwiv, the brother of Tarius. Dancing across the years with cloaks and daggers the two nearly destroyed each other many a time, though one fateful day they took matters into their own hands. Losing to many shifting tricks and poisoned blades, Serria's legend came to an end. Until now.

Combat Information

Equipment:

Two solid blade blades, slender and long they are used more for piercing than slashing, though that doesn not mean they are useless otherwise. Connectable into a double bladed staff, these two blades have no special name, Serria did not have the mind to name her tools as she made them. Matching armor of the same black shade shield Serria's body under her cloth. Made of extremely fine linked coils the armor is soft to the touch, though can deflect most blades with surprising ability. These tools are made from a super condensed magic crystal found deep in caves, hidden only under the hilly countryside.

Techniques/Spells:

Crimson magic: Not to be confused with blood magic, it is a simple energy moving ability. Releasing her unique red energy from within, Serria can throw and craft with raw magic. Beams, exploding balls and the less simple blade shape or small barrier, it is a versatile power, though relies heavily on the user and their energy limit.

Grey step: Disappearing in a flutter of grew insect wings Serria can "jump" short distances. This can only be done in a straight line ahead of her, and within a minute or so of the last jump.

Moth form: Through a magic circle carved in to her back, Serria can temporarily form insect like wings, and gains physical features similar to, you guessed it. A moth.

[Argetlam350]

Hider

Zaccar Drogoth

Hunter of the North/Knight of Winter

Age: 36
Sex: Male
Date of Birth: November 14th
Legends Slain:
-The Great Gray Wolf of the North
-Sealameet the Everlasting Dragon
-Yharnis, the Weaver of the Nightmare
-Maneating Boar
-Darkbeast Guyral
-Scorth, Queen of Shadows
-The Abhorrent One
Slain By: A beast that appears under a blood red moon beckoned by it's calling. Oedon the Old One.

Hider

Appearance:

Hider

Personality:

Hider

He is a rather impassive person, with only one goal in mind, to kill Odeon the Old One. He will kill any beast, demon, or monster that stands in his way however. Despite this cold shoulder nature he can be caring once you get to know him and even might laugh at a joke or two if one is lucky to catch him in a good mood or if you are extremely lucky maybe a smile. Internally he battles over who he is, if this is all he wants out of life? A life of killing beasts or do something beyond that.

Lore:

Hider

Born in the northern lands, he grew up in an environment that was survival of the fittest. His village was deep in the mountains where the sun hardly brought enough light to melt the snow. Yet despite the cruelty of the environment, they survived. He began life as a simple son of a farmer, hearing tales of what lived in the forests and caves around the village, it was off limits to enter them, especially at night when supposedly the beasts came out to hunt any poor wretched soul that did not find cover within their home or at least a tavern. Of course peace does not always last and eventually a beast did attack the village out right. Perhaps it was agitated about something, or it just finally had enough of the village. It struck out tearing the little village apart. The few men who could wield a weapon tried to fight it but were nothing more then a mere agitation to the beast as it killed it's fill of men, women, and children. Not many survived that night and those who did, left the village without hesitation. Zaccar and his family managed to live, though they suffered loses. His uncle had been torn in two, a sister who he would never see again, and his father's arm so mangled it had to be amputated. From that day forth Zaccar knew he would return for vengeance for his people. He grew distant from all he knew and decided to learn the trade of sword fighting. It took many years, longer so to find someone willing to train him but he eventually became the man he needed to be and upon feeling ready, returned to the burned down village of the north to hunt down the beast that destroyed it. He had learned the creatures name, a name spoken under whispers: Odeon the Old One, a beast that lurked under the guide of the moon, only coming out of it's hiding place when a red moon rose. The night it attacked there had indeed been a blood moon.

So Zaccar searched and in the mean time, killed many other beasts, the few other people that lived in the north or traded there shared tales of a man who seemed to slaughter the beasts in the harsh realm with ease. His cloak coming from the Great Gray Wolf that had terrorized a village or that the armor he wore came from the dragon Sealameet an ancient resident of the norther mountains. He slayed many beasts but it wasn't for years until he found his pray, Odeon. It spoke to him but what he said Zaccar could not remember even if he wished to. The battle was long and tedious the beast was the hardest thing he had ever fought and in the end the beast won out snapping Zaccar in two and leaving him in a realm of darkness until he would be called again to the hunt.

Combat Information

Equipment:

Hider

His longsword which is quite unique because it functions as two weapons really. For you see he can wield the weapon in hand while carrying a shield or he can lock it in place with the large piece on his back and it becomes a greatsword with devastating power. He also carries a shield which is made from the skull of Sealameet the Everlasting Dragon. Another prize he has is his cape which was made from the pelt of the Great Gray Wolf of the North and the horns atop his helm belong to the Elusive Stag, perhaps not a beast that was harmful to men but it was said to be unkillable and he proved otherwise.
Shield:


Sword:

Techniques/Spells:

Hider

Beast's Claw: It is said that when you hunt beasts for to long, you yourself start becoming one. As flesh is flayed and blood is sprayed, the beast within awakens, and in time, the wielder of this technique surges with both strength and feverish reverie. What once was mortal flesh becomes bestial and clawed to tear prey apart in a fit of frenzy.

Beast Roar: This technique borrows the strength of the terrible undead darkbeasts, if only for a moment, to blast surrounding foes back with the force of a roaring beast. Able to deflect projectiles for the short span it is used as well.
The indescribable sound is broadcast with the caster's own vocal cords, which begs the question, what terrible things lurk deep within the frames of men?

The Mark: Left side of chest

Hider

[Saarebas]

Nighith The Scourge Of The Night Skies

Name
Nighith

Epithet
Nighith The Scourge Of The Night Skies, The Rushing Jaws, Bringer Of The Burning Winds

Age
Died At The Age Of 2937

Sex
Male

Date of Birth
October 31st

Legends Slain
Sulavin The Dark Tower, Zosth Dragon Of The Depths, Lillith The Temptress, Mulvain Wyrm-Heart, Ernoc The Foul, Old Penoul One-Eye, The Giant Brothers Of The Western Mountains

Slain By
Daud The Blade Of Retribution And His Band Of Justice Seekers

Appearance
Humanoid Form
When Nighith is in his humanoid form he is a towering individual, standing a little over seven feet tall, with a slender build, though he does not appears to be lanky. His hair is as black as night and hangs neatly down past his neck. His skin is a startling grey color, further proving he is not human. He has four horns that sprout from his head and curve towards the back of his head. His face has sharp features, giving him a regal type look to him. His eyes are a literal burning fiery red, they give off a faint light that only grows with his anger. His ears are quite odd as they end with three points. His body is peppered with scars, such as the one that goes over his left eye, the most noticeable of which is the large jagged one that is over where his heart should be.

Dragon Form
When Nighith takes his true form he becomes quite the fearsome looking creature. He grows dramatically is size, easily becoming larger than the average home. He sprouts enormous wings from his back that have unimaginable strength. He becomes covered in dark grey and black scales. He also sprouts two more horns, bringing the total up to six. His teeth are replaced by razor sharp fangs and his nails turn into deadly claws. His eyes turn into burning infernos with reptilian slits for pupils. Like in his humanoid form Nighith has a large scar over his heart.

Personality
A few decades of battle can turn the most cheerful of men hardened and cold, imagine what multiple centuries could do, that is exactly what has happened to Nighith. Lifetimes of battling his own kind, foolish humans trying to make themselves legends, and greedy treasure hunters has left this dragon with a bitter taste in his mouth and cynical out look on the world. Nighith firmly believes that people will always look out for their own well being over others in the end, not hesitating to stab each other in the back when the opportunity rises. Though his out look may be steely he still has a fiery wrath that if triggered will burn his foes to a crisp.

Lore
Nighith's beginnings were like many other dragons, he was a hatchling among his dozen other siblings. He was raised by his mother for a few years until she deemed that his children were ready to strike out on there own, Nighith and his siblings spread to the corners of the Earth ready to set up their own nests. Nighith attacked the world with the same enthusiasm of every young dragon, he loved the thrill of battles with other creatures and the sight of his fire burning a village to nothing but dust. He spent centuries amassing his hoard of stolen treasures, he acquired so much that it could fund a kingdom for lifetimes. Along with his fortune came the renown of being a vicious dragon and along with that came the challengers. There were countless amounts of them, human and monster alike, all came to him in the hopes of slaying him and taking the fame that would come along with it. Needless to say they all failed

The years upon years of ransacking kingdoms, burning knights into ash stains, and defending his hoard from other beasts began to weigh on Nighith. He started to see the people of the world for what they truly are, greed driven beings that have the nerve to call everything else a monster. He spent centuries with his bitter thoughts until he was finally slain by Daud and his band of other knights, Daud took Nighith's heart as a trophy and proof that someone had finally slain the dragon. Nighith thought that was the end until he awoken from what felt like a slumber with a feeling he forgot about, the feeling of wanting to actively seek battle and bloodshed.

Equipment
Even while in human form Nighith has strength that far surpasses that of a human, being able to pick up and toss full grown men with one arm. He is also far faster and more durable than humans. While in his dragon form Nighith's strength only increases as well as he gains claws and fangs that are capable of ripping flesh and breaking bone. His scales are also incredibly thick, normal weapons basically bounce off of him.

Techniques/Spells
Dragon Fire- Nighith is able to breath a fire, both while in humanoid and dragon form, that is far more intense than a normal flame.
Humanoid Transformation- Nighith is able to change back and forth between his humanoid and dragon forms at will.

[Pathfinder]

Personal Information

Name: Yorrick Chulain

Epithet: The Hammer of Light, Crusader

Age: Died at the age of 36

Sex: Male

Date of Birth: October 15

Legends Slain: The Beastmen of the Khazan Mountains, The Coven of Blight, The Dread-Knight Gwyn, the Legion of the Damned, and The Lich of Ghroul.

Slain By: High Dragon Rouhl

Appearance

Yorrick, Big Picture
Yorrick has changed little since his death. He is still a giant of a man, reaching 6'6 outside of his armor and a body chiseled from stone. His eyes are grey, like iron, and rarely show any emotion besides deep compassion or grim determination. Scars cover his body, from head to toe and of every conceivable type. Slash, stab, burn, corrosive, claw, bite, his body has seen it all and come out no worse for the ware.

Personality: Compassionate, grim, determined, selfless, and loyal to a fault. Holds a soft spot for children and contempt for the forces of darkness.

Lore

Many years ago when the Holy Church and to an extension the Heralds of Light were in their formative years a small branch of warriors splintered off from the church and formed the Crusaders, warriors completely and utterly dedicated to the eradication of darkness. From this group Yorrick was born, raised, and tempered. From early on it was clear that he was destined for greatness. By the time he was sixteen he had already matched the skill of the other Crusaders in the art of war, by seventeen he surpassed them. However it wasn't until his mentor was killed in an ambush was he allowed to ascend to the rank of Crusader and join his brothers in the purge at the age of nineteen.

His first mark was to rid the Khazan Mountains of the beastman that infested it. Many bloody battles were fought, untold foul creatures were brought low, and the stink clung to him for months to come but after three years the mountains were cleansed. Next came the Coven of Blight, the benefactors of the Beastmen. A year later their heads were claimed and a year after that the great battle of the Knight and the Crusader was fought. For a long while Yorrick stayed in the shadows as the Holy Church gained more ground and power, never doing a deed history would remember. However that changed when the Lich of Ghroul raised a great army of dead and began a quest for conquest.

For the first, and only, time in history the Heralds and the Crusaders worked together. The battle of the two armies was glorious but the Crusaders were few in number and while they were superior warriors to the walking dead many of them were overwhelmed. In a final effort, Yorrick lead the charge that routed the Leagion and spearheaded the assault on the Lich's domain. Victory was there but the Crusaders were shattered. Those that survived were allowed to join the Heralds and many took up the offer, the Crusaders were eventually absorbed into the Heralds along with their knowledge of dark beings. Yorrick refused.

The years went by, battles fought, evil slain, and peace restored. However, after a life of conflict it is hard to turn to peaceful pursuits especially if one had never known them. Itching for anything, Yorrick and a group of adventurers set out to fight a great dragon that had been terrorizing the people of the far north. Rouhl was its name.

The journey was tough but when the group confronted the dragon it was if hell itself had taken mortal form. In the end Yorrick gave his life to buy the mage time, time she used to put the beast down. In honor of his achievements, of his sacrifice, and of his friendship the mage commissioned a tomb to be made on the summit of the mountain that was the battleground of the final battle. "The Crusaders Vigil" it came to be called, his armored form carved into the the face of the mountain. Always watching those who live below.

Combat Information

Equipment

*All can be seen in the artwork*

Yorrick's Mail: High Crusader armor, earned for his many achievements. The armor has not lost any of its durability over the long years of entombment.

The Arm of Light: A mighty flail blessed by the light. The flail is filled with an eternally burning incense that repels evil spirits and the forces of the darkness while bringing comfort to those who have lost hope.

The Shining Aegis: A great shield that grows in durability with the devotion of the barer.

Techniques/Spells

Crusaders Resolve: Yorrick can ignore crippling pain and injuries so long as he keeps faith, however a blow that would outright kill him say immolation or decapitation will end him.

Holy Accusation: Words spoken in a holy language forgotten to time, mortals filled with sin will be crippled with their truth while spirits and demons are banished. Particularly strong creatures of darkness are only annoyed.

Smite: The incense within the Arm of Light catches alight, engulfing men and beast in flames when struck or obliterating demons and dark spirits.

[WilsonTurner]

Žaibas Viešpats

Personal Information
Name: Zaelios
Epithet: Zaelios the Lightning, Master of Storms, Caller of Storms, Stormcaller, Žaibas Viešpats (Lightning Lord)
Age: He's really old cause he's a magical being created a long time ago when magicians were all superpowerful, instead of being weak enough to be controlled by Kings.
Sex: Male
Date of Birth: A long, long time ago.

Legends Slain:
- The Mountain King
- Valkahar the Swift
- The Great Werebear
- The Lone Power
- Firewyrm of the Western Mountains
- Draconian Blazer
- Stark Scyther
Slain By: The Conjurer of Shadows

Appearance:

Humanoid form- Otherworldly armor forged of an unknown dark metal (not exactly black, but dull and dark). Layered plate armor forming full-body medium armor, capable of stopping a waraxe or warhammer while still remaining more fluid and mobile than heavy armor. Based on his ability to turn into a form of multicolored cloud of mist, flesh, blood, and armor are all of magical origin, or heavily influenced and infused with.

Magical form- a cloud of mist that can expand to, max, about the size of a car. Capable of all things mist is- getting inside a body, through vents or doors, etc. While very few have even seen him in this form, this is his true form- a cloud of pure magical self-sustaining spells.

Powered form- A being of energy, held together by the spellweave that keeps him alive and sentient. This is his most powerful form, and requires regular consumption of mages or something magical in nature. In this form, he is a wingless drake of blue energy, just as large as a house. Combined with his almost-ethereal legs and his innate power, he mainly launches himself like an arrow from a bow to collide powerfully against targets. Destroying and consuming magical Legends makes all forms more powerful.

Personality: Spontaneous, indecisive at first but terribly stubborn once decided, confused easily with paradoxes or the like, but can be terribly quick to figure out an ambush. Is also paranoid. Hard to talk to, personally.

Lore: "Aye, it's said that the Master of Storms feeds off the power of those around him. He needed naught but the magic in your blood, in anythin's blood, indeed, and he'd starve so, since there are so few. So he'd hunt down other Legends, hunting them down so he'd not starve, using their powers to feed his own accursed strength. Then, one of them figured out how he ticked, and with a single spell, cast him from existence! Only the source of his power was left- a gem the size of your head, a great flawless diamond!" - an old tale told by the old storyteller in the tavern.

Combat Information

Equipment:

In mortal form:
- A greatsword made of the same mysterious dark metal, with a dull red metal lining the edges and the hilt of the sword. Gems are embedded in both the hilt and the winged guard.
- Two, dual longswords, hand-and-a-half, made entirely of the dull red metal, strapped to either side of his waist in scabbards made of grey leather, edged by dull, beaten iron.
- Six saxe knives (almost like shortswords) set in small scabbards positioned on both his lower legs, his forearms, and next to his longswords.
- A bow made from, again, a dark grey wood, reinforced with the same unknown dull dark metal, with runes of unknown origin inscribed across their length. An over-the-shoulder quiver with swan-fletched grey arrows sit. All weapons are very, very magical.

In mist form:
Well... he has the ability to solidify parts of his mist in unusually light, strong lengths of tentacle-like appendages. The mist itself also erodes at exposed flesh, burning like acid. Since it's a mist, any weapon, magical or otherwise, would likely be ineffective against it. Air spells and the like still have effect, though.

In powered form:
Magical teeth like shortswords, claws like longswords, magical scale as strong as his armor, but a bit thicker, and dissipates slightly when broken. Breathes the same mist he can turn into, though it's heavier and not as 'alive' as himself, though it still may form up around living creatures until they're consumed. Anything eaten by his own mouth or the mist has all the magic slowly sucked from it to be pulled into Zaelios's life force. Can sometimes shoot magical bolts, depending on necessity.

Techniques/Spells:

Magical bolts when in mortal or powered form, medium control of elemental powers in mortal form, air elemental powers in powered form. The reality of Zaelios is that he's over a thousand intertwining spells. Actually "killing" him is next to impossible by normal means. Spells of most any kind are generally, in the long run, ineffective, and conventional weapons like arrows or swords are also nearly ineffective. Since he's made of spells, it would take a single master socrerer casting the disperse-magic spell, or a dozen powerful sorcerers, to actually "kill" him, which would leave behind his "soul" in the giant diamond gemstone. The gem itself is where all the spells are anchored. Theoretically, breaking it while he was "alive" or "dead" would permanently kill him, but it's unlikely to even be able to find it before he kills you.

He can also summon storms, hence the name.

[Zamokra41]

Sairasu

Name
Murasame Sairasu

Epithet
Sairasu of the East ; Wanderer Sairasu ; The Ronin Vagabond ; Sairasu the Indomitable

Age
Unknown, presumably late 30s

Sex
Male

Date of Birth
21st August

Legends Slain
he Skulking Beast ; Musahashi the Green-Blade ; Smiling Charles ; The Blackwall Company ; The Sisters of Carnage ; Suiryuu the Water God

Slain By
Binshentsu the Grey

Appearance

Image

1.87m tall, light colored skin now with a slight grey-ish tint after his resurrection. Slender yet well toned body deceiving his strength, sharp facial features. Long, jet-black hair of which the back portion is tied in a messy ponytail. A light stubble decorates his jaw-line and chin. A small scar is visible just under his left eye which is kept closed at all times indicating that it is lost, his right, functioning eye displays a pale gold colored iris.

Personality
During his life, Sairasu was known for his sarcastic remarks and light-hearted demeanor, prone to making jests more often than not, these jests turned to mockery when facing opponents which only added to the cocky image he had painted for himself. However, this attitude vanishes whenever he faces a worthy opponent, his jests turning silent, his grin replaced by a frown and his gaze piercing his opponent while his very presence emanates killing intent. After his resurrection, he has come to discover that the later is starting to be more common than usual.

Lore
Not much is known about Sairasu’s childhood, according to him it is best left buried deep under the sands of the past. His story begins only at the age of 17, when he and Binshentsu, his closest friend, had left their homeland from the distant East to wander the world in search for glorious battle and mighty opponents. For a time, they traveled together, enjoying the ‘privileges’ of being a pair of sellswords, living from one odd-job to the next, slaying foes left and right be them man or beast. However they soon discovered that each must walk their own path, Binshentsu accepted the proposal of joining a mercenary company and traveling with them, the same invitation extended to Sairasu but he refused, continuing to wander the world by himself. Alone, Sairasu made a name of himself as a wanderer of great skill, always searching for challenges with the most impossible odds and succeeding. At the age of 21, he slew the Skulking Beast whose hide is said to be impervious to any man-made blade. About 2 years later after a rather insulting jape, he found himself engaged in a duel with Musahashi the Green-Blade, a warrior of legend from his homeland, needless to say that legend ended that day. A few years later, an apparent friendly completion turned bloody and deadly, in which the revolutionary warfare inventions of Smiling Charles proved no match against Sairasu’s skills. After that victory, the legend of the Ronin Vagabond spread across the lands and rumors of great forces drew him to Astoria where he sought out the infamous Blackwall Company of mercenaries. After singlehandedly slaying the whole company, he learned from interrogating one of his foes of the existence of an ancient dragon of immense power which the locals called a ‘Water God’, this piqued his interest and Sairasu was off in search for more information. The Sisters of Carnage were rumored to have the power of clairvoyance which they used to make themselves nigh-on invincible, yet ‘nearly invincible’ did not mean ‘impossible to kill’ as Sairasu proved by slaying one, then extracting relevant information about the dragon he sought from the other before killing her as well. The battle with Suiryuu the Water God, proved the hardest, none of his former opponents could even come close to the formidable power of this Dragon. However, against all odds, Sairasu managed to slay the beast with the last of his strength and a stroke of luck. After the battle, Sairasu’s legend was well known across the land, which only brought the attention of someone from his past. After many long years, he was reunited with his friend Binshentsu yet he was vastly changed. Instead of warm greetings and a joyous reunion, Sairasu only encountered cold steel and battle. He couldn’t explain why yet his old friend was hell-bent on claiming his life, which in the end was exactly what happened. The last thing Sairasu recalls was Binshentsu cleaning his blade of blood as the world darken around him….and now, he finds himself awake again….

Equipment
His armor is made of an exotic design from his homeland, crafted in such a way as to offer good protection yet not restrict mobility, in the meantime he had also reinforced it with the pelt of the Skulking Beast which is said to be as strong as the scales of dragons.

His most prized possession is his weapon, Meiyaku, a katana with a longer than average blade said to be forged in ancient times by a powerful entity. The legend says that this entity placed a portion of its own spirit within the weapon to continue living through it and a warrior strong enough could call upon its power

Image

Techniques/Spells

Kin-Kou Form – A stance and combat form relying on a fine balance of strength and speed. Adopting this form, Sairasu can fight on par with even the most skilled of foes while still holding his guard up, prepared for any counter-attack and rarely caught off-guard.

Fukutsu Form – A defensive variant of the Kin-Kou Form, a stance and combat form relying on either the user’s strength to deflect and resist incoming attacks or the user’s speed and mobility in dodging stronger attacks altogether. Sairasu usually adopts this stance to endure a battle and patiently wait for an opening on his opponent which will be swiftly met with a devastating counter-attack.

Hakai Form – A highly offensive variant of the Kin-Kou Form, a stance and combat form relying entirely on the user’s speed to rain down uncountable blows and attacks, fluidly strung together in a long chain of quick strikes. Sairasu would adopt this form when catching his opponent in a tight spot, his surreal speed leave almost no opportunity for attack.

[IcePezz]

Isabeau Falkenrath

Aliases: Lady Millisandre DeFlur, Alexandria Cortese
Epithet: Fireheart, Shadow walker
Age: died at the age of 26
Sex: female
Birth date: July 13th

Legends Slain: Amari- High Witch of the Ironteeth Clan, The Desert Prince, High Priestess Adalynn of the Black Hand, the White Dragon of the Dark Spires, Lyndon and Jake Brice (The Brice Bandits), Cain- Champion of the Northern Badlands, Asher- Leader of the Silent Brotherhood

Slain By: James Holde - First officer of the Assassin’s Guild and betrothed to Isabeau

Appearance

Isabeau has short auburn hair. It is longer in the front, sitting just below her chin. Bangs, neatly parted to the side, hang over her forehead and just barely brush over her eyebrows. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over her nose. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent.

Personality

On the outside, she's cold and calculating, quiet and reserved. However there is a burning passion within her. Vengeance simmers from her pores and hatred seeps through every exhale. She wasn't always like this though. And deep down inside, there is a hope for redemption, to return to the wildfire she once was, burning bright and free.

Lore

Though actual details of her birth are a mystery, there are rumors of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.

The prince had journied far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. But she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who lived within its sanctuary.

Unsatisfied, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.

Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince, though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans which did not include the Prince, plans which would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.

The night before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.

It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.

Despite her childhood being sprinkled with happiness here and there, betrayal and despair became common for her as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. Though Isabeau was very passionate and vibrant, just as her mother. Her only downfall, her one weakness is what led her to her death.

Combat Information:

Equipment

Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the rapier saddled on her left hip. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one strapped to her belt opposite from her sword. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved dagger, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.

She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades, red being her favorite color.

Techniques and Spells

Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily

Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.

Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding Isabeau will ignite and deadly flames will surround her as well as coat her sword, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards

~~*~~

Her Mark

[Esailia]

Esailia Lightarrow

Personal information

Name: Esailia Lightarrow
Epithet: Huntress of the Wood; Guardian of the Balance.
Age: 125
Sex: female
Date of Birth: September 14th
Legends Slain: Arndias the Brute; King Lanver.
Slain By: King Ornelis, grandson to the late King Lanver

Appearance

Personality: Some would consider her usual behavior brooding, her mind always towards dark thoughts. In reality, she has a blank expression, and keeps to herself, reacting to humanoids with an even tone, unless they have earned her respect.

Lore

short version

Born to a poor hunting family, Esailia learned how to live with and from the forest. One day, she was out hunting, and the King's hunting party had killed her family. She learned this, and vowed revenge. She got it a few years later by shooting the King through the eye. Fast forward a century, she helps hunting families when they show respect for the forest, and knocks off bounty hunters that come for her, one well known as Arndias the Brute with an arrow between the bottom of his helm and his chestplate into his neck. The grandson of the king she killed got sick of her, and led a group of the best royal hunters of the land to finally kill Esailia, letting her bleed out instead of a quick death. She was buried by the hunters whom she helped, and they swore to keep on with her work of keeping the balance.

(Read the long version! It's a much better read!!)

long version

Born into the world from a wife of a poacher in the King's land, Esailia had a rough start to life. It was not for lack of love or care from her parents. But she learned to conserve food and drink from her mother, was trained to walk silently on dry leaves by her father, even taught herself how to climb trees to avoid dangerous animals of the forest. But most of all, she was a prodigy with a bow and arrows. She could hit the eye of a sparrow flying by nine times out of ten. Fell a stag in a clean shot to the neck or eye. She and her father went out hunting often, while her mother foraged near the hut for herbs and berries.

It was a hard life, but a rewarding one. Living by skill and cooperation. But it was not meant to last.

Soon after Esailia came of age, she was hunting alone in the forest, when she heard hounds howling and men shouting and whooping. A royal hunting party. She'd learned of those early in her life. But something was off. They rarely came this far from the castle...and then it hit her, the sounds were coming from the direction of her home. She raced home, hopping from tree branch to tree branch, before taking a controlled fall to the forest floor to pop back up sprinting.

She arrived just on the edge of the clearing where her home had stood, and was greeted with the sight of a burning pile. The royal party had killed her mother and father, and burned the hut to the ground for good measure. It was this act by the Royal Family that caused the death of King Lanver a few years later. A single arrow to the eye. Woodland experts were called from across the land to identify the arrow of sparrow fletchings, hand carved shaft, and a flint arrowhead. But they all said it was unique. Not any that were sold by merchants or of known hunters of the area. The King's son took the throne, and declared the forests off limits by hunting parties until the murderer of his father was found. It was not to be a short declaration...
over a century later, a father of three children was staring at his empty storehouse, and sighed before putting up his bow and quiver. He slowly closed the door and started walking back to his family's home, a small shack that barely held them. He had never overstocked, never let meat go sour. He respected his prey, giving them clean deaths where he could. He never allowed his wife to forage too much, making sure she kept some of whatever she took in its place so it may repopulate the area.

An arrow whizzed several yards in front of him to hit the ground near the door, making him jump with fright. He looked around frantically, fearing the authorities had found his poaching off the King's land, but to no avail. The father slowly approached the arrow, and quickly noted the sparrow fletchings. He looked around again, but as before, saw no one. He tugged the arrow gently from the earth, and hurried inside. It was a warning and a blessing, this arrow. He had heard bandied around illigal taverns that there was a spirit in the forests, making sure balance was kept, and that those greeted with a sparrow arrow should pray they have not caught the ire of the Guardian of the Balance. Alas, nothing ill happened to the hunter or his family. But the next morning, when he opened the door to his storehouse to retrieve his bow, there, hanging from the center of the room, were three stags, cleaned and salted.

"Thank you, Guardian of the Balance..." He murmered. Above him in a tree branch, Esailia smiled before darting off into the forest...

The legend quickly grew from there, with overhunting being punished, and respect to nature being rewarded by this Guardian. Soon thereafter, some even started saying it was a woman clad in light leathers and green cloth, carrying a living bow. Others say it was a spirit of a panther, taking the form of a human to exact revenge against those who killed her. Other such stories were exchanged, one even including that wisps followed in her wake, and all the while Esailia lived in relative security in the Deep Woods...Until she had a visitor.

Arndias had heard the stories, and scoffed at them. superstitious nonsense, he called them. It was just a girl with a knack for hunting! On top of that, he had been to the castle, and had seen the wanted poster for a murderer in the woods. a bounty number with quite a few zeros made him pack up, get his steel armor on, and head into the woods to find this 'Huntress of the Wood'...Several days later, his large body was found at the border of the forest closest to the castle, with a single arrow between the helm and chestplate of his armor, the same sparrow fletchings. But there was also a note attached to the arrow, which soon found its way into King Ornelis' hands, which read
"Bring your mercenaries, bring your hunting parties. Bring your Royal guard, bring your armies. The Forest does not forget. The Heart of the Wood does not forgive. The Ember of Vengeance has not died. Your fore-father upset the Balance, and so will you."

"Steward!" Ornelis called "Prepare a hunting party of the finest hunters and hounds of the land. We are ending this. Now."

It was a grand chase. But not even the best laid plans, nor the most honed instincts, could overcome a pack of hunters and their well-trained hounds. Esailia died not by a few arrows, but a slow, painful one as she bled out by her neck as King Ornelis watched on...It was a hunt to be remembered by all the land. To those that support the Crown with cheering, and woodland peasants with mourning. for the Huntress they owed their lives to. Esailia was buried by the father of three, and a few of his companions, atop a small hill in the forest. The father looked down at the rather small woman, her simple bow much like his, and nodded "She was a fine archer, and the best hunter any of us knew. I swear here and now to keep the Balance." He looked up at his companions as he continued "We live or die by the Hunt. Spread the word. The Guardian of the Balance has not died. She lives on in any who wish to protect this land."

They all headed off in agreement, never knowing quite how true that was...

Combat Information

Equipment: A simple looking shortbow, but imbued with living properties to avoid wear and tear. A quiver of sparrow fletched, hand crafted arrows. A pair of hunting knives twelve inches long on her outer thighs, a pouch of healing herbs, and a few bottles of liquid at her hip.

Techniques/Spells:
Prefers to have the high ground, will keep to the tree or rooftops where she can. She can imbue elements to her arrows, including but not limited to: fire, water, earth, and air. These imbuements do not last longer than ten seconds.

She knows how to go hand to hand with her knives, having grappled with larger predators in the forests. She is able to imbue her knives with the same elements as her arrows, though she is able to sustain them due to the knives staying in her hands.

She has a rudimentary grasp of nature healing, using the same imbuing arts to enhance an herb's natural properties and accelerate them. It is how she managed to live for so long, with her potions of longevity.

Her mark, located in the small of her back