[CHAR] The Tides of Arcanum

[Moonlit Sonata]

Amelia Alviss

Amelia

"Be honored that an expert of my caliber is bothering with this trash."

Name: Amelia Alviss

Title(s): Infinite Corridor of Finite Concept, Silversmith, "Crazy Magic Chick".

Gender: Female

Age: 34

Personal Information

Personality: An uncommon existence for the reason that, while man is an existence that has moods and vacillations, she is a form of being that is based around a single premise. While she herself may change over the course of life, that original premise will never be departed from. This original premise is that of the purest, most refined form of narcissism. Amelia wholeheartedly views herself as a perfect being in all aspects: ethics, intellect, ability, and so on.
This can be captured best perhaps in her view on riddles. She believes herself to be a peerless riddle solve; however, she is not. Rather, she knows the answer to one riddle. To her, this riddle is "The One True Riddle". All other riddles are viewed by her as "not the real one", and thus they are fake, pointless riddles that don't count. In this way, her ideology remains perfectly self-consistent. Failure cannot possibly be her fault; it can only ever be the fault of others, or of the World.
At the same time, Amelia's ego is every bit as fragile as it is massive. If confronted with unshakeable evidence of inferiority or equality that she cannot maneuver around, she will certainly break. Rather than a reed which may bend without breaking, Amelia's psyche is a tree that will stand hardily and deflect attempts to shatter it, but will undeniably break upon clashing with a greater force. In that sense, she is an exquisite glass figurine at the center of a maelstrom, destined to shatter when the eye of the storm changes. In such an instance, her ego will exist, but lack focus, lack presence. Her mentality in such an instance cannot be predicted, though she will undoubtedly hold on to the vestiges of her prior worldview until her last breath.
Similarly to her attitude on riddles, she considers herself an unquestioned master of the occult, one to whom the veil on the world is lifted and the truth is revealed. This is predictably false. Her occult knowledge is practically zero; however, she is an actual master at "making herself seem correct", and so her words and tales are easily believed. For that reason, she is regarded as an occult expert of the absolute rank, beyond that of the Kingdom, College, and Church alike. Even one who truly knows of the occult would not dare to think that her explanation was wrong. Rather, since they believe something contrary to her, and since she is Amelia Alviss, they must obviously be incorrect, and so as of late, truly knowledgeable occultists have willingly "revised" their records and knowledge in favor of the "true" viewpoint.
Speaks in a florid and overbearing prose-style of speech nine times out of ten, with the tenth being a blunt, crude, and harshly-cut manner of deriding others.

Basic Bio: A little girl raised on a farm. When her parents died, she took over the farm, sold all the animals, and began using the farm as an inn for anyone who passed by on their way to somewhere more important. Later, thanks to her inn-guests believing her and rumors rapidly accelerating, got a reputation as a "magic expert" and has since been "helping" larger organizations in their preparation for the end of the world. Is considered a first-rate magic expert despite knowing nothing. At least the pay's good.

History: -

Skills:

Academia (Basic): Reading, Writing, Arithmetic. Homeschooled by her parents, but it still counts, okay?

Farming (Basic): Agriculture and raising animals. While she can do this on account of being raised by her parents, she considers this boring. Is pretty useless.

Economics (False): Propensity for business. Does not refer to actual knowledge of economic trends. Rather refers to her talent to overcharge people for her services, and things of that ilk. Largely related to Deception.

Survival Skills (Basic): Swimming, climbing, starting a fire, setting up a camp. Basic knowledge for one raised in a rural area; though she lacks much practice, the ability is there.

Combat (Inhuman): Is capable of singlehandedly dueling a one-legged six year old child, and edging out a victory via the combat art of "extension of the leg towards the enemy with rapid acceleration", known in some martial arts circles as "kicking". When facing incomprehensible monsters such as non-crippled children, she has a true talent for running; her speed and endurance are both commendable.

Knowledge of the Occult (Peerless): Does not actually have knowledge of the occult.

Deception (Unfair): Refers both to telling lies and to weaving stories. Her capacity for both is immense; it is no exaggeration to say that this is the only reason she would ever be considered an occult expert. In this way, deception can also be viewed as persuasion, as their premise is one and the same. Oftentimes, such as with occult knowledge, even she is taken to believe her own lies. Even in the face of blatantly contradicting evidence, her lies are easily bought.

Human Observation (Unfair): The ability to understand the nature of a person, to see past deception and masks and pierce through to their true nature. Amelia is at the point of functionally being able to "know" the nature of a person via interacting with or observing them. Also extends to Interrogation, wherein the nature of a person is exploited to produce a desired result, as well as her trademark Deception.

Equipment: A dagger she has nicknamed "Evanescent Durandal". Rope. A bedroll. Two flasks of water so as to not dehydrate. Simple rations so as to not starve (in the form of a few pounds of dried/salted meats). Bandages so as to not bleed out. A flint so as to not freeze. A cloak so as to not worry about rain. A blanket so as to also not freeze. A pot, a bowl and plate stored inside the pot, a pan, and some cutlery, just in case because you never know. 25 silver coins. Everything besides Evanescent Durandal is stored in a pack with a cute little strap.

[Freeshooter92]

Lady Vehrna Solinus

Image placed in hider for hugeness.

While not depicted in the picture, Verhna bears a scar along her left cheek from an arrow that would have gone straight into her mouth had she been slower... As it turns out, even lowly bandits could be skilled archers, and it didn't pay to insult them.

Gender:

Lady.

Age:

27

Personality:

Honorable to a fault, kind, brave, and naive, all of these words and more describe Vehrna. She embodies knightly virtue, much like her brother before her. She strives to live up to him, and always puts her all into every task. However, her ardent nature can lead her to overexert herself sometimes. She can become indecisive, and often struggles with moral dilemmas that have no clear answer. She abhors suffering, and has a habit of blaming herself for such things as she was unable to stop it... even if such things were completely out of her control and are not her fault. She's friendly, and has a habit of getting along with most people, though she is not fond of those she percieves as lazy, ungrateful, or manipulative.

History:

Vehrna is quite the unusual person; a female Knight. Born to a relatively minor noble family of the kingdom of Mortis, she didn't have a very hard life ahead of her. Indeed, she could have chosen to merely waste her life away as an ordinary noble like her sisters. But, she always wanted... more. Ever the kind soul, she wished to help the people... though as the third daughter, the chances of her ever having the influence to do so were slim. She wasn't quite fond of most of her family, viewing them as lazy and uncaring. While not tyrants by any means, she thought they were more concerned with whatever event they hosted next or their coffers, rather than the needs of the people of their town, Kite's Point (a mining town named for its founder).

The exceptions were her father Leonhardt, and her eldest brother Victus. She idolized her brother, an honest, heroic sort that was training to become a knight, as opposed to her other four brothers, who seemed content to fool around with political machinations. Between the bedtime stories of knights and monsters her father would tell her, and her desire to be just like her brother, she sought to become a knight herself. While most people (her mother included) would scoff at such a notion, her father supported her. After all, he was confident she had what it takes, and he didn't want her wasting away in a courtly life she didn't want.

Victus was also supportive, if a tad over-protective. The two trained for years, though she would had to learn an additional skill or two, chief among them smithing. While her... proportions were modest, she still fit into armor designed for men rather poorly. Thus, she'd have to learn how to make and rework armor herself considering that women's plate was rarely for sale (To be honest, plate ain't common in general). She trained as hard as any would-be knight should, and on her twenty-fifth birthday, she was knighted.

Victus... couldn't make it. A month prior, he had been wounded in a bandit raid, and while the wound was small, he had taken ill; the bandits were armed with poor, rusty excuses for weapons. He had died not three hours before her ceremony. She had little reason save her father to remain at the town, and at her father's urging she decided to leave. She travels to this day, offering her services as a warrior to the people of Mortis. Recently, she had found a bag of gold coins beside her bedroll when she awoke, along with a note... an odd job it seemed, but she never turned down a job if the cause was just, and such a huge sum of money was not thrown around for trivial matters...

Skills:

Equipment: Vehrna is adept with certain equipment, able to use and maintain them with great skill. They are as follows; Spears, lances, swords, shields (Of any size, save bucklers. She never could get the hang of them), Plate Armor, Mail, Smith's tools (she is no master smithy, however).
Reading: Vehrna can read.
Riding: While she makes no claims to be the best, Vehrna is a skilled horsewoman.
Smithing: Vehrna can work a forge, and while she's not the best smith in the land, she's skilled. She mostly puts her know-how to use in repairing things, rather than making new things.
Cookin': Vehrna is a surprisingly good chef.
Skilled Knight: Vehrna is a formidable combatant that knows how to put her arms and armor to best use. That being said, don't think her helpless unarmored; It's the woman you have to worry about, not the suit.
Cards: Also surprising is how the woman manages to win nearly every card game she plays. This results in most people only playing with her once or twice.

Equipment:

A suit of plate armor with metal boots (for fighting on horseback), one pair of hide boots (for fighting on foot), a large shield, a spear, a sword (usually left with the horse), a Horse named... uh... Horse (The stablemaster named him, not her), saddle, saddle bags, a pack, four waterskins, trail rations, a considerable total of coins (Many of which are gold. This generally proves her nobility, as opposed to her just stealing someone else's armor and calling herself such), purses for coins, leather gloves, two sets of common clothing, one fine set of clothing, one pair of shoes, a fine cloak, flint and tinder, two empty bottles, bedroll, cooking utensils, maps, bounties, a kit for maintaining her equipment (containing whetstones and spare straps for her armor, among a few other things), an emergency medical kit (containing bandages and healing poultices), and two bottles of high-grade armor polish, along with a cloth. And a deck of playing cards.

Magical knowledge?

While she has heard and enjoyed the tales, she knows absolutely nothing about how any of it worked.

[SillyGoy]

Name: Variel Ventris Septimus

Titles: Doctor

Gender: Male

Age: 36

Descriptive Appearance:

Doctor Septimus

In the thick, voluminous garb of a plague doctor, Variel is rendered anonymous. Obscuring his visage is the appropriate beak-like mask iconic of such professionals. Slung across his shoulders is a thick, fat satchel containing all kinds of medical equipment: forceps, scalpels, knives and razors as well as unguents, salts and poultices for all sorts of life-threatening contingencies. In a smaller one, its strap crossing the other over his chest, there are things such as food and extra clothes: items unrelated to his profession. Gloved, strapped and with the hems of its trousers tucked into his worn leather boots, Variel's uniform is as sealed as it can be.

Outside of this grim clothing, he a man of prime age -- or, at least he tells himself. He has a slightly pallid, copper-tinged complexion and sports close-cut black hair whose longer locks are naturally wavy. His musculature can be described as average; he is neither lean nor chubby. Incidentally, he is also only averagely endowed.

Devoid of facial hair, it is evident that he shaves often. Crow's feet hang from the lids of his brown-irised, widely spaced eyes, and his nose is slightly aquiline. Having a round shape to his face, his smiles are warm and radiate kindness. This, in addition to his relatively small ears and above-average height, gives him an aura of calm charity.

In his gloved hand is gripped a short, thick cane, replete with all the wondrous versatility of a stick.

Personality:

Variel is a kind man, fond of song and food although he abstains from too much drink. He has always been a person of good, patient temper, and this has translated well from adolescence to adulthood when he began to practice medicine. His grins are wide and he smiles only when it is genuine, making it so that every one reaches up to light his eyes and ease the wrinkles that surround them. These wrinkles have come from a life full of sickness, death and far too many triage situations for his liking. Regardless, he presses on, content that he has helped to save so many. Of course, there is always the guilt of inevitably losing a few patients.

He is unmarried, and does not actively seek love. He believes his calling on earth is in the schools-turned-hospitals and bloodied apothecarions, not in a conjugal home where he can sire children. Other people have that role, and his is to help those people.

Basic Biography:

Variel is the third son of two innkeepers who do good business in the outskirts of the Capital of the Kingdom of Mortis. Raised more or less normally through childhood's ups and downs, he enrolled, with the help of an influential family friend, at the College of Arcanatras. After preparatory semesters, he was apprenticed to a doctor and the duo traveled where they were needed across the Kingdom. Eventually, when his master could no longer teach anything to him, Variel went his own way and has since been treating the sick and injured.

Skills:

Master Apothecary: Variel is superbly adept in medicinal alchemy and can brew up anodynes and healing salves even with tools so simple as a cauldron of boiling water and a stirring stick, provided he has the right herbs. Conversely, he can also create the direst of poisons and the most painful of venoms.

Surgeon: Variel is trained in the more invasive practices of the medicinal arts and can disinfect, close, and suture up wounds.

College Alumnus: Variel is a proud graduate of the College of Arcanatras, and as such is knowledgeable on various lores.

Thrifty Clerk: Being the son of two innkeepers has given Variel some insights (and virtues) regarding matters of coin, ensuring that he always has the pennies to to buy that extra bowl of stew.

Well-worn Wanderer: Variel has walked through vast expanses of countryside with nary a town to rest for the night. A survivalist, he is no stranger to personally hunting rabbits when his food stores run out.

Literate: Variel can read and write.

Equipment:

-Plague doctor's attire
-Fat satchel full of medicinal gubbins
-Modest bag of coins
-Extra clothes: a cotton shirt and pants
-Several days' worth of dried meat and fish
-A waterskin
-Doctor's cane

[Masaki Haruna]

IGNORE.

[Hedonismbot]

My Hider

Name: Cayl

Gender: male

Age: ~30

Personality: Dim-witted and naive, Cayl is honest to the bone and expects the same in return. Or rather, he doesn't know anything else to expect. He is not easily angered. Even in the face of injustice or wrongdoings, he responds with a clueless "why" in order to make sense of the twisted human mind. He is prone to dozing off in the middle of conversations, mostly to enjoy a particularly enjoyable breeze or the smell of wild flowers. He is lively and respectful. Quite often his views on life don't mesh well with those of humans, but as a follower of "balance above all things", he tries to be mindful of everything and consider everyone around him.

Short bio: "Legends say a great beast - both human and canine - prowls the lands around Millford ever since the days of old, some say even before The Happening. This town, now no more than a row of shacks, was once a bustling city of trade and knowledge. It's ruins still litter the surrounding plains, filled with unimaginable wealth and power, available to those who dare to face the terrible monster that is said to guard the ancient corridors beneath the crumbled walls. Is there an adventurer brave enough to enter the Millford Valley during a full moon night?"

What kind of a fairy tale the local folk used to lure tourists into Millford before he came into this world, Cayl didn't know. Living in a one room hut with an old lady, half a day's walk from town, had left him quite distant from the civilized world. Instead he spent his days ranging the wilderness and dancing with the wolves. The occasional trip to town to purchase supplies was the only time he met another human. Once a round was done and the woman had what she needed, Cayl was free to disappear into the forest for days, sometimes even weeks.

After one such voyage, Cayl returned to an empty house. Death had taken what was hers. Only a lifeless body sat in the corner, still holding a halfway woven basket in its hands. When the proper rituals had been made - as she would have wanted - Cayl knew there was nothing holding him to this place anymore. He had never been very close to her, but out of respect and gratitude had stuck with her until she had needed it. Weeks turned into months before Cayl returned to the run-down shack only to leave again. After a while, all what was left was a little clearing in the woods where the hut once stood.


Skills:
Knowledge Roll: 5 - He can speak, read and do basic math. He only has rudimentary education in the latter two, mostly taught to him by the old lady for the occasional visits to town so as not to get scammed by the local farmers. Reading a book of fiction? No. Understanding a simple note or letter? Yes.

Denizen of Nature - Anything to do with the non-living side of nature, it's order, laws, cycles, dangers... This includes navigating via stars, predicting weather, finding water, etc.

Horse Whisperer - living among all manner of beasts has taught him to understand the behaviour of animals to the slightest of detail

Shoot to Kill - Cayl is an expert hunter, skilled in the use of bow, spear and knife, as well as setting up traps

Run, Forrest, run - Cayl is fast and silent. He can jump, climb, swim and run like an athlete.

Fields of Green - plants can be useful for a wide variety of uses - from making poultices and poisons to seasoning the freshly skinned rabbit

I Smell a Rat - although all his senses are highly developed, Cayl's sense of smell in particular has reached near inhuman levels

Knowledge of magic? All he knows is things aren't how they used to be. The odd signs here and there hint towards creatures Cayl has never seen before. And the smell, definitely the smell - a very slight otherworldly scent could be felt in parts all over Mortis.

Equipment:
small backpack

hunting/skinning knife

larger general utility/bowie knife

bow and arrows (9 in total. Proper arrows can be hard to come by and fashioning them out of branches without proper equipment isn't easy. Thus he makes sure to retrieve them whenever possible.)

simple leather clothing

cloak

slightly better linen clothing for trips to towns (kept in bag)

flint

waterskin - filled and then refilled whenever possible. He mostly doesn't use it, preferring to drink from any bodies of water he comes by.

small pouch for herbs - while most plants can be used fresh, he does keep some emergency backups in this pouch. These include: a strong anti-toxin powder, a cleansing wound salve and a cooling poultice for burns.

small pouch for emergency food - dried meat and veggies. With careful rationing lasts for about 3 days.

leather blanket (rolled up)

7 silver coins