(size 60)
(60)
(107)size 69 (nice
72
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
 ________________________________________ Henry Starag Male | 23 | Sound _______________________________________________ "You were prettier with your mouth closed." ________________________________________  Likes
Dislikes
Habits
Misc.
Theme You're not such an easy target One minute I know you then I don't I know you then I don't | "Legacies are made to be surpassed." Appearance In many ways, Henry is the spitting image of his father; fair-skinned, blue-eyed, and sporting a head of thick, golden blond hair, always well looked-after. Standing a bit shorter than his father at around 5'9, his body strikes a fine balance between a lithe frame and practical musculature, just as Lady Sinnenodel prefers. Dressing in whatever style the Lady fancies that year, Henry is always sure to be put together to the letter of her command and keeps himself meticulously clean and cared for. Conventionally handsome, Henry usually sports an eerie, masklike expression utterly devoid of emotion, having long since learned to keep such silly mortal trappings to himself - or, better yet, expunge them completely. Despite this, his eyes have a chilling sharpness to them, always searching for traps, weaknesses, and opportunities. Personality Henry was raised to be the ideal Sinnenodel mage, and he would like to think he’s very close to achieving it. Cold and ruthless, there are no lengths to which he won’t go—or levels he won’t stoop to—to accomplish his goals, be they simply following orders or tipping the scales of fate in his favour. It cannot be overstated that his interests begin and end with himself, and to that end, he is zealously ambitious—a passion that currently manifests in the enthusiastic service of his Lady. Make no mistake, though; his loyalty does not stem from love, or gratitude, tradition, or any supposedly higher calling. No, Henry’s fierce loyalty stems squarely from his own desire to succeed, and there can be no success higher in this world than earning the favour of the Empress herself. Having learned from a young age that mortal emotions are nothing but an obstacle in his path, he’s learned to suppress them, smother them somewhere safe and out of the way to be dealt with later - or preferably, never. However, that isn’t to say that he doesn’t entertain the occasional human urge. Quite the contrary; Henry has come to see the game of words and daggers the Sinnenodels play as quite the pastime indeed, and finds great entertainment in all the myriad ways he can pull the strings of his social fabric. He likes to have fun; it just so happens that his idea of fun is invoking the misfortune of others. Above all, though, it bears repeating that Henry’s sole purpose is his own self interest. He will do, take, and endure absolutely anything to secure his own future, and Fate help anything—or anyone—that stands in his way. Bio No matter one’s status, it is impossible to completely escape the clutches of war; Henry Starag was no exception. Born in the year 507, Henry was a toddler when Lycans attacked his childhood home, forcing his father Aaron, his mother Eloise, and their cadre of allies to pull out every possible stop to defend themselves. If not for his father’s Lycan breakthrough and Max Alderman’s sheer magical might, Henry’s life would have been a short one. But the only thing that ended that night was Henry’s direct involvement in the war; on an agreement that it was best to keep him safe, three-year-old Henry was sent to none other than Sybil Sinnenodel’s household, where he’d be protected from any and every possible threat excepting the Empress herself. There, safely tucked away in the heart of Sinnenodel territory and far from the war, Henry grew to forget most of that night, and lived in relative normalcy. Instead, Henry grew up under the harsh and exacting tutelage of Sybil Sinnenodel and her household, and there was molded into the very finest example of what a Sinnenodel mage - and a Starag, for that matter - should be. But it wasn’t just the Empress’ creative methods or the competence of the mages under her employ that were responsible for Henry’s success. On the contrary; even as a child, Henry proved the perfect receptacle for their teaching, driven to excel and eager to use any method, no matter how underhanded, to do so. By personality alone, there was nothing of his father in him. Where Aaron was kind, Henry was cunning; where Aaron was gentle, Henry was ruthless; where Aaron was duty-bound, Henry was motivated only by the prospect of his own achievement. Not that there was anyone around to recognize the difference - Aaron was long since a changed man by the time Henry was becoming his own person. Growing up largely apart from his parents, who were usually busy with the war, Henry enjoyed every luxury and endured every hardship a proper Sinnenodel mage was expected to, as if there was no war at all - more or less. From a young age he learned to keep his ‘human’ side carefully concealed, to tolerate Sybil’s frequent invasions into his psyche, and even to keep his very thoughts in check, lest he attract his Mistress’ ire. As he grew and learned more about his family, the Sinnenodels, and his place between the two, Henry came to recognize the gravity of the same lofty Starag lineage that inspired such zealous awe in his father. However, Henry wasn’t struck by admiration; rather, he was taken by the sheer scale of the achievements he’d have to someday outpace in order to finally step out from under their shadow. And his ancestors weren’t his only competition, either. Aside from his own father and the other handful of accomplished mages who joined him in the war, Henry had Lena. Lena, the insufferable pile of perfect looks and feminine curves and infuriating talent. Lena, the ice mage he’d been engaged to marry since before either of them could walk, who had been his chief competitor for Sybil’s good graces throughout their entire shared upbringing. Lena, who matched Henry for every accomplishment without fail, who he hated and loved, who was probably the closest thing to an equal he had in the world’s entire population of mages. Lena, who he’d strangle if he could and whose company he resented so much and yearned for so dearly the second she was gone. Yeah, that bitch. Let it never be said that Henry Starag didn’t enjoy a good challenge, because if ever there was one, Lena was it. However, as of late, Henry has gotten an edge. New intel has come in on some potential to stir up Dawn Rising, the foremost band of terrorists currently acting the thorn in the Empress’ side, and it just so happens, it’s finally time for Henry to show his Lady what he’s capable of. True, he has very big shoes to fill, and very long shadows to overtake if he wants to truly make a name for himself beyond his father’s reputation. Fortunately, single-handedly toppling Dawn Rising from the inside should prove an excellent start. |
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
 ________________________________________ Roan Levi Alserda Male | 22 | Sound _______________________________________________ "The next thing that bites me is getting a bite back." ________________________________________  Likes
Dislikes
Habits
Misc
Theme | "A caged bird's gotta stop singing." Appearance With dark olive skin, deep green eyes, and graceful features, Roan always had something of a delicate look about him; something his vampire must have noticed, since she had those features enhanced with life magic treatments and plastic surgery until Roan took on the sort of refined, ethereal mien that served nicely as an attractive show piece. Always having hated being looked at like a decorative sculpture, Roan has since done his best to downplay his looks, letting his eyebrows grow back a little thicker, his skin get a little rougher, and dyeing his hair from its former glossy black to a very obviously bleached, out-of-the-bottle blue. A long scar mars his left cheek down to the jawline, further breaking up his formerly symmetrical face, and he hides his lithe, willowy build with oversized tees and zip hoodies. Personality Roan is famously easy to get along with. Easygoing to a fault, Roan has always been perfectly happy to go with the flow, preferring to follow the leader rather than striking out himself. He’s very forgiving of slights against him, preferring to err on the side of grace, and usually assumes (for better or for worse) that people don’t mean to be as harsh as they sometimes come across. But everyone has their limits, and if someone does manage to get on his bad side, he can grow immature, stubborn, and snarky. Of course, getting Roan to the point of spitting back is a feat in itself; in his personal life as well as in battle, Roan would much rather flee than fight. Growing up with two bickering older sisters taught Roan to be an effective mediator, and since tension drives him crazy, he will often be found trying to help people work out their differences - whether his efforts are welcome or not. Averse to conflict and discomforted by seriousness, Roan does his best to keep the mood light, usually trying to diffuse tense situations with a joke or a change of subject. His discomfort with silence, especially, is even more notable these days; the longer people are around him, the more they will notice that his constant attempts at levity may be less of a personality quirk and more of a protective measure. This is most evident in his relatively new aversion to being alone, a discomfort so encompassing it’s probably better described as a fear. So Roan does his best to keep people around, keep them talking, and keep them smiling - after all, too much time alone with his thoughts is bad news when there’s so much in his head he’d rather not think about. Bio Hailing from an orbital Eve territory, Roan’s upbringing was pleasant enough. Born to a single mother with two older sisters, it’s true that they weren’t the model of the nuclear family, and without a second income, they also struggled financially for a while until his oldest sister started working. But they were happy; Roan’s house was always full, be it with the people who lived there or friends and loved ones who stopped in. Even after his oldest sister married and started a family of her own, she was always over with her husband and children, filling the house with the happy noise Roan grew so fond of. It was a happy childhood, the memories of which Roan still treasures to this day. But he couldn’t stay a child forever, and that fact was underscored the year he turned eighteen, when his Awakening crystal lit up and changed his life forever. Truth be told, while he was sad to leave home, Roan was a little excited at the prospect of serving a vampire; it was a chance to step out of the modest means he was so accustomed to, to make something of himself he probably couldn’t have as a mundane man. He considered himself pretty lucky, too. He ended up with a vampiress named Bellamira Deale, part of some distant branch of the Eve family on the low end of the social hierarchy - still plenty rich, but largely uninvolved with the political machine. On top of that, she was decently kind to him. A bit of a diva, she liked things a certain way, of course, but she took a particular interest in Roan, doting on him like an exotic pet and grooming him to become a show mage. She was a great fan of his talent for music, hiring magic tutors to teach him how to enhance his natural ability with Sound magic, and she loved showing him off to friends at parties. It wasn’t always the most comfortable thing to be poked and prodded by rich vampires and looked at like more of a toy than a person - especially when they got a little more handsy - but Roan counted his blessings, and he was more or less content. He spent two reasonably good years with Bellamira, but the novelty wore off when she decided that it was time for the ‘training wheels’ to come off and to induct him into service as a proper show mage. See, in her eyes, becoming a “proper” show mage meant changes; she told him they were simple ‘enhancements’, meant to play on his existing features, highlight his best qualities and minimize the bad ones, and that he’d be happier for them. But it wasn’t until he finally awoke from a whole host of surgical and magical procedures that Roan realized just how dramatic of a change Bellamira wanted to make. He couldn’t deny that he looked “better”, in a way; his features were smoother, his flaws tucked away, his assets exaggerated, just as she said. But it went way beyond ‘enhancement’; his eyes were green instead of hazel, he had an entirely different nose, and all the other features he was used to - even the flaws he never expected to miss - were gone. He looked more like a sculpture freshly carved than a real person, lacking the story of his life he didn’t realize was written in his features until they were gone. He barely recognized himself in the mirror. It was jarring, but for a while, Roan tried to convince himself that he was okay with it. After all, Bellamira was pleased, he was turning more heads than ever, and he seemed to be on his way to a promising ‘career’ as a show mage; he should have been happy, right? Moon only knew most mages weren’t nearly that lucky, especially these days. But something still didn’t sit right with him. Deny or distract all he wanted, the changes still ate away at him. He no longer had his mother’s nose or his sister’s eyes. His home wasn’t full of life or laughter, just schedules and meetings and glorified busywork to keep the mages looking busy. He barely recognized himself anymore, inside or out, and he didn’t realize until it was too late how much he’d miss those faint echoes of his mom and sisters in the mirror. When he could no longer bear the feeling of separation, he went to his mistress, all but begging her to turn him back, or at least to let him dial back the changes to something more subtle. But to his surprise, Bellamira, who had always been more or less amicable with him, was not pleased. She denied him fervently, insulted by his brazen rejection of her ‘gift’ to him, and made it clear who made the decisions in her house and who he really belonged to. Crestfallen and hurt, Roan accepted her decision, but fell into a numbing sadness. Apparently Bellamira noticed how her decision was weighing on him, and surprisingly, attempted to make things right. But a vampire’s interpretation of making amends was much different than a mage’s. She approached him late one morning, where he was moping in his room, and tried to comfort him - he didn’t need to be sad anymore, because now he didn’t need to compare himself to anybody. He could ‘be his own person’, free from the burden of some petty family resemblance weighing down on him, because she’d seen to it that everyone in his ‘old family’ was gone. Roan doesn’t remember much about what happened next. It must have been dramatic, though, because the result was an open curtain, a pile of ash on his floor, and him running for his life. The next few weeks were a blur, but at some point he joined up with a small local rebellion cell that had merged into a distant limb of Dawn Rising, less than ten people in number. He spent about a year with his small band of comrades, conducting small-scale operations that ultimately didn’t accomplish much more than soothing Roan’s burning need to do something, anything to make sure what happened to him never happened to anyone ever again. When they finally got to make a move that might actually have made a difference, Roan’s endeavours once more ended in tragedy. Finding unexpected resistance and succumbing to a crucial organizational breakdown, the entire cell was killed; Roan was the only survivor, and even then, only because for the second time, he ran. And again, the next few weeks - or was it months? It was so hard to tell - went by in a blur, and now he’s once more searching for a chance to join up with the resistance in the hopes that this time, maybe he can actually make a difference. |
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
"You know, there was actually a fascinating discussion of this very concept in Canterbrick Stables v Eldrichsen— wait, where are you going?"
Name:
Eliseo Benedict Rhaveus
(you can call him Eli)
Age:
18
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Saved from a skeletal form only by a habit of fencing instilled in him as a child, Eli is a bit taller than average with a lean, narrow build. His skin is dark brown and mostly even, topped with tousled black hair contrasted by a pale lock on his forehead. His tallow-coloured eyes are usually rimmed by rectangular spectacles, and his features school nicely into his signature look of distracted contemplation.
His style of dress follows the trends of high society, currently consisting of loose-fitting shirts and simple, slim trousers complemented by ornate doublets or overcoats. As such, the Glynwood uniform meshes well into his current wardrobe; the comparative drabness of the uniform doesn’t bother him much, and he hasn’t really changed anything about it.
His style of dress follows the trends of high society, currently consisting of loose-fitting shirts and simple, slim trousers complemented by ornate doublets or overcoats. As such, the Glynwood uniform meshes well into his current wardrobe; the comparative drabness of the uniform doesn’t bother him much, and he hasn’t really changed anything about it.
Personality:
Anime smart guy who almost seems cool
Background:
Keen classmates will recognize Eli’s surname as that of Juliano Rhaveus, famed (or perhaps infamous) chief prosecutor for the Heptarchy responsible for the prosecution of the controversial Belworth case. His father’s station is representative of the whole of Eli’s pedigree; hailing from the wealthy Southwestern prefectures, House Rhaveus has long held a strong presence in the workings of the Magisterium, producing lawyers, statesmen, and all manner of scholars for generations. As such, Eli spent his privileged youth sheltered securely in the walls of his Pentaion townhouse and sprawling Southern estate receiving a first-rate education from tutors and relatives alike, not least of whom his accomplished father.
The two were near-inseparable when Eli was a child, the boy always at his father’s heels chattering all manner of questions, and Juliano happy to answer them all. Eli had the privilege of sitting in on all manner of Magisterium business (when security didn’t demand privacy, of course) and he grew to love the world of politics and governance and the people who made it up. Juliano Rhaveus had no shortage of friends and allies, and kept up with all of them; Eli grew up with a slew of doting relatives and family friends alike making regular rounds at his childhood home, sharing their love of the political sciences. As such, it surprised nobody when the boy who made legislators out of stuffed animals and conducted mock debates on the ethics of early bedtimes soon aspired to be a great statesman himself, handling issues of import among the esteemed ranks of the Heptarchy.
But the strife of the [WAR] affected everyone in the republic, and perhaps young Eli the most out of his sheltered peers. Initially, the Belworth case was exciting; Eli was proud of his father for enforcing the laws of the Magisterium so stalwartly, and he was sure the righteous cause would be championed by all of the honourable statesmen he’d come to know and loe. But instead, the controversy surrounding the Belworth case and the resulting political schism within the Heptarchy put his family on precarious ground, suddenly caught in the middle of disputes over Belworth’s prosecution and the reach of the Heptarchy which began to threaten to go beyond academic debate. Family friends Eli had known since birth suddenly turned against his father, and men Juliano had butted heads with for decades suddenly became friends; Eli’s world was turned upside down as friends and foes changed places, the superficiality of political allegiance finally showing through.
Fearing for their safety amidst rising unrest in the capital, Juliano sent his family away to their Southern estate under the guise of early summering, where they remained for the duration of the coming war; a wise choice that allowed them to avoid the worst of the conflict, including the historic Siege of Pentaion. This was where Eli lived the bulk of his teenage years, including his noesis at the age of 14. Still reeling from his upheaval from Pentaion, Eli thrust into magical studies at the expense of politics, flitting from one topic to the next with interests that changed with the tide. Aside from the defensive magic his father insisted he learn, Eli became a jack of all trades, master of none, dabbling here and there to develop moderate experience in many fields, but no deep understanding of any of them. Principally, he was fascinated by the complex theories of high magic, yet well out of his reach.
Now that things have finally calmed down, Eli’s family has returned to Pentaion - but it’s not the same. Despite longing to return to the city that raised him, Pentaion felt colder, more foreign to Eli than it did in his youth, the faces of beaurocrats and politicians now concealing potential threats as opposed to the friends he once knew. As such, Eli is eager to move on, hoping that immersion in academia at Glynwood will distract him from the political turmoil brewing at the capital - and the turmoil within as he tries to find a new direction for his future.
The two were near-inseparable when Eli was a child, the boy always at his father’s heels chattering all manner of questions, and Juliano happy to answer them all. Eli had the privilege of sitting in on all manner of Magisterium business (when security didn’t demand privacy, of course) and he grew to love the world of politics and governance and the people who made it up. Juliano Rhaveus had no shortage of friends and allies, and kept up with all of them; Eli grew up with a slew of doting relatives and family friends alike making regular rounds at his childhood home, sharing their love of the political sciences. As such, it surprised nobody when the boy who made legislators out of stuffed animals and conducted mock debates on the ethics of early bedtimes soon aspired to be a great statesman himself, handling issues of import among the esteemed ranks of the Heptarchy.
But the strife of the [WAR] affected everyone in the republic, and perhaps young Eli the most out of his sheltered peers. Initially, the Belworth case was exciting; Eli was proud of his father for enforcing the laws of the Magisterium so stalwartly, and he was sure the righteous cause would be championed by all of the honourable statesmen he’d come to know and loe. But instead, the controversy surrounding the Belworth case and the resulting political schism within the Heptarchy put his family on precarious ground, suddenly caught in the middle of disputes over Belworth’s prosecution and the reach of the Heptarchy which began to threaten to go beyond academic debate. Family friends Eli had known since birth suddenly turned against his father, and men Juliano had butted heads with for decades suddenly became friends; Eli’s world was turned upside down as friends and foes changed places, the superficiality of political allegiance finally showing through.
Fearing for their safety amidst rising unrest in the capital, Juliano sent his family away to their Southern estate under the guise of early summering, where they remained for the duration of the coming war; a wise choice that allowed them to avoid the worst of the conflict, including the historic Siege of Pentaion. This was where Eli lived the bulk of his teenage years, including his noesis at the age of 14. Still reeling from his upheaval from Pentaion, Eli thrust into magical studies at the expense of politics, flitting from one topic to the next with interests that changed with the tide. Aside from the defensive magic his father insisted he learn, Eli became a jack of all trades, master of none, dabbling here and there to develop moderate experience in many fields, but no deep understanding of any of them. Principally, he was fascinated by the complex theories of high magic, yet well out of his reach.
Now that things have finally calmed down, Eli’s family has returned to Pentaion - but it’s not the same. Despite longing to return to the city that raised him, Pentaion felt colder, more foreign to Eli than it did in his youth, the faces of beaurocrats and politicians now concealing potential threats as opposed to the friends he once knew. As such, Eli is eager to move on, hoping that immersion in academia at Glynwood will distract him from the political turmoil brewing at the capital - and the turmoil within as he tries to find a new direction for his future.
Attunement:
Tellurian
Aura:
What does your aura look/feel/sound like?
Magic:
Describe your character’s magical abilities, nascent as they are at this point in time. What types of magic have they already learned? What do they favor or have an affinity toward? What are they looking to specialize in? Feel free to keep this broad or list out specific spells in their arsenal. Keep in mind, magic isn’t just about fighting; magi use it to enhance nearly every facet of their everyday life when they can get away with it.
Arcane Items:
Eli has a pair of magicked spectacles which reveal invisible enchantments. Although intended to help the wearer avoid magical traps, the glasses don’t actually indicate whether an enchantment is malignant or benign, only that it is present.
Other:
Dumb trivia you couldn’t worm in anywhere else but really want us to know about your character.
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
Picture Here
Quote
Quote
Name:
Lienna Orn
Age:
18
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Short physical description, uniform alterations, that sort of thing.
Personality:
You know the drill.
Background:
A brief synopsis of your character’s life before attending the academy. Remember that all students require a letter of recommendation from a practicing mage to apply at Glynwood.
Attunement:
Ouranian
Aura:
Lienna's aura is like a little bubble of winter, enveloping her in cold, crisp air and swirling snow. Its precise nature varies by the activity: It might only be a cold bubble of drifting snowflakes when calmly casting a simple spell, but whip into a raging blizzard when emotions run high or a spell demands considerable effort.
Magic:
Lienna's affinity for magic has very much been shaped by the harsh environment she grew up in, and revolves mostly around cold, wind, and ice. While she would very much have preferred to take to something like fire, which she imagines would have been more useful in her frigid mountain home, she's managed to make her natural talent for all things icy work for her. Principally, she's developed a tolerance for cold significantly stronger than a mundane person, able to comfortably tolerate temperatures that would freeze anyone else to death. Creating (and dispelling) ice on command has also been helpful more than once in navigating rough terrain, but she is hindered somewhat by her lacklustre control. Her mentor commended her often for the sheer force of her spells, but at the same time, Lienna struggles to contain that power, and she often finds her magic going awry or "leaking" out of her when she least expects it.
Arcane Items:
List staves, enchanted trinkets, or anything else your character might own of the magical variety. Take this part out if your character lacks any possessions that fit this description.
Other:
Dumb trivia you couldn’t worm in anywhere else but really want us to know about your character.
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
^^ dreamscar 65
prida36 60
bilboswashcaps-regular 65
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
ＮＡＭＥEli Forester (formerly Esra Tjaldhiminn)
ＲＡＣＥ
Viera
ＣＬＡＮ
Rava
ＢＩＲＴＨＰＬＡＣＥ
Golmore Jungle
ＯＣＣＵＰＡＴＩＯＮ
(former) Assistant Grant Officer - Forum Department of Research, Education, and Dissemination of Knowledge
ＳＯＵＬ ＣＲＹＳＴＡＬ
Summoner(?) Black Mage(?)
ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ
Eli is a good height for a Viera male, standing around 73 ilms tall (~6’). His quick, slim frame is typical of his ilk, with a flexible core and long, slender limbs layered with lean, wiry muscle. His straw-coloured hair falls chin-length in waves, neatly kept out of his eyes. His skin is deep brown, contrasted starkly by a pair of startlingly light green eyes, ever equipped with a cool, piercing gaze. Likely his most striking feature, Eli’s slender, upright leporine ears betray a state of perpetual alertness even when the man himself seems at ease, always quick to twitch and turn toward the slightest sound.
Eli’s manner of dress follows the preeminent style of Old Sharlayan in spirit, although in place of heavy robes and skirts he prefers slim-fitting tunics and loose-fitting trousers. Still, he sports an air of sophistication, both in dress and mannerisms; aloof at the best of times, Eli carries himself with a certain indifference to goings-on around him, bearing the look of a man whose mind is perpetually somewhere more important.
ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ
Curt
No-nonsense
Has no interest in company - prefers to be alone
Hates noise - prefers silence
Would rather not chat
Seems kinda salty
Seems unimpressed at all times
Suspicious of everyone and everything
Very solitary
Blends into Sharlayan on the outside, but to talk to him he feels distinct from the stuffy academic crowd - he has all the manners down but still carries a distinct vibe of being a hard motherfucker
The quiet co-worker who doesn’t really talk to anyone and doesn’t interact with anyone outside of work
ＢＩＯＧＲＡＰＨＹ
While vastly different from an Eorzean upbringing, Eli’s early life was typical of a male of the Rava clan. He was born by the name of "Esra" in the village of Tjaldhiminn, named for its precarious construction in the upper boughs of the Golmore Jungle's mightiest trees. He spent his first twelve summers under the wise tutelage of his mother and her sisters, learning the basics of Golmorran life all Viera must know: how to hunt, how to forage, and most importantly, how to fight.
But the village would not remain his home forever. He came of age in his thirteenth summer, and with that, in keeping with the Green Word, was sent out of the village, bound for a life of watchful solitude guarding the forest as a Wood Warder. Of course, he was not alone - not yet, anyway. As a young Jack, he was placed in the care of a master, an experienced Warder by the name of Asri. A Warder any Vieran man would aspire to be, Asri knew a thing or two about training Jacks, and pushed his young charge to the point of breaking, and then beyond. If they needed to go one mile, Esra would go two, with a pack of rocks on his back for good measure. If he was hungry, he would catch his prey, or he would not eat. If he was cold, he could have fur - but only if he slew the coeurl who wore it.
Such are the ways of the Wood, Asri would say. So, such are the ways of the Warders who guard it.
Asri's regimen was as brutal as it was effective, and Esra nearly died more than once in the many years the two spent together. It would not have been strange if he had; after all, Jacks who survived their training were less common than those who did not. But Esra persevered, growing slowly but steadily from a feisty child to a hardened killer, capable of silently tracking and dispatching any prey, man or beast. Asri taught him everything a Warder must know: to live alone, hear the Green Word, treat wounds, find water, avoid predators and contend with them if necessary, to care for the forest and its inhabitants. Most importantly, Asri taught him to protect the Wood with all his body and soul, and to eagerly fight and die for it.
Esra took these lessons to heart, and when he finally earned the title of "master" himself and struck out on his own as a true Wood Warder, he looked forward to a lifetime of noble solitude among the boughs, listening to the Green Word and valiantly protecting his home from whatever foolish threat may dare to cross beneath its branches. And he did, for a long time. Every few summers, he returned (somewhat reluctantly) to Tjaldhiminn, mated, and left again. Once he took on a young Jack of his own, but his charge unfortunately perished a few summers later. He was there when the iron men tramped through Golmore in their ugly machines, and helped his brothers and sisters make them pay for every leaf they trampled underfoot, until they dared not venture into the jungle again.
After the iron men left, the jungle was quiet for a time. The nearby Dalmascans, who had often harassed Golmore in the past, ceased to bother them, and Esra and the other Warders grew uneasy, wary of the peace. But one day, the familiar sound of clumsy crashing alerted Esra to invaders in the forest, and he was greeted by a new foe.
At first, Esra watched from the boughs, taking stock of his opponents. They didn’t look like the iron men; these ones were clad in cloth garments, carrying large sacks on their backs, and weren’t accompanied by the hulking metal monsters the iron men employed to do their bidding. But these new invaders did no less to invite Esra’s ire, swinging long knives at the foliage to hack their way through and filling their sacks with the stolen bounty of the Wood. They put their hands on everything, from the plants to the waters, the soil, even small animals and insects. Esra was pretty sure he saw one of them triumphantly scoop up a handful of coeurl dung and stow it away in his pack with elation.
Beyond his confusion, their utter disregard for the Wood somehow angered Esra even more than the iron men did; where the iron men hacked and burned, reducing all in their path to rubble, these new invaders had the gall to traipse into the Wood without a hint of respect and start stealing.
And Esra wasn’t the only one the invaders brought to attention; alongside a few other Warders, the noise of the clumsy interlopers was attracting the attention of predators. Something had to be done now, before
ＯＴＨＥＲ
Favourite food: ???
Although it is almost unnoticeable against his dark skin tone, Eli has a black tattoo on his left cheek.
If one were to look closely, they’d notice that Eli seems to have an odd habit of standing on his toes.
ＲＥＡＳＯＮ ＦＯＲ ＥＮＬＩＳＴＭＥＮＴ
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
 ________________________________________ Miriam "Maya" Desrosiers Female | 22 | Cosmic _______________________________________________ "Don't you dare come in here and tell me HR wants to talk again." ________________________________________  | "Why should I be careful? What, am I gonna extra-die?" Appearance Maya is a decent height for a woman at 5'7", though she's usually boosted a bit taller with heels. She has a slim but shapely build, fair skin, and long, straight black hair. She prefers business casual style, preferring short skirts, stockings, and blouses. Her eyes are a dark wine colour, and her face, conventionally pretty, is often slack with boredom and mild contempt. When an unusual job comes up on the board, however, those eyes take on a dangerous, thrill-seeking glint at the prospect of some rare excitement. Weapon Maya wields a long hammer with an angled head, equipped on the reverse with a short bladed spike and combustive boosters that allow her to add some extra kick to a swing or directly blast an enemy. The boosters are controlled by a trigger on the shaft. From tip to tip, the hammer is about as long as she is tall. Magic Maya's field of magic is Cosmic, specializing in spells having to do with the manipulation of gravity.
"How did you die?" "Isn't that supposed to be rude to ask? Whatever, I don't really care. It's a short and kind of bullshit story anyway. I was 22, your classic goody-two-shoes - came from a nice family, got good grades, didn't get pregnant before twenty, all that. Didn't really do much interesting; you know how it is, half of everyone you know tells you to get your crazy out before you're too old to party and the other half says that can all wait until you get your education and you're out on your two feet. I kinda split the difference; didn't party too hard but wasn't a loner or anything. Went away for school, joined a sorority. The usual. Anyway. There I am, wasting my life studying for some bullshit physics degree, thinking I'll go have a real life once I'm done, and then - BAM! Meningitis. Like, are you fucking kidding me? What kind of bullshit is that? You french one guy at a party, go to bed the next week with a stiff neck and never wake up again? Give me a fucking break. But that's what got me, and then my dumb ass wakes up here, dead, and what, I'm supposed to just be cool with that and move on to the After just like that? Yeah, okay. Fuck that. I barely spent any time on Earth! I never got to live my life there, so I'm damn well gonna live it here until I'm good and ready. I guess that's what brought me to this job. I spent like, I don't know, a year or so just hanging out in Decibitus at first. Really trying to let loose, you know? Live a little? Ha. But it didn't take long for that to get boring - I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a city full of dead people with mortality issues is kinda lame. So then I remember they told me I could be a Reaper (which at first I was like, no, I didn't die just so I could get a nine-to-five in limbo) and think hey, maybe slaying demons or whatever that entails will be more exciting than nightclubs full of reincarnated geriatrics. Of course, now I've been on for about a year and a half and... yeah. No. I mean, sure, you get a little action every now and then when there's a wisp that got a little too mature or some especially uncooperative dead guy on Earth, but Jesus, who figured death would still have paperwork? And like, an HR department? You're telling me I still have to deal with payroll when I'm dead? So yeah, turns out the afterlife isn't that much more impressive than normal life - although not being able to really die again is cool, I guess. And now with the train out of whack things are even more annoying. But hey, maybe whatever's holding up the train will be a bit more of a challenge." |
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
 ________________________________________ Jerrick Fjaldersson Male | 25 | Veldermarke Dominant of Ramuh _______________________________________________ "From heaven on high, far did his bolt fall for to deliver justice." –Eikonomachy - Book of Levin 4:20 ________________________________________ Theme | "Our clash shall be heralded by great rejoicing, such that the heavens themselves will quake with great peals of thunder!" Appearance Jerrick is an object of national pride, and it shows. A man of good stature, he is tall, broad-shouldered, and well-muscled, filling out his armour well. His hair is shock-white, a feature Jerrick attributes to his jarring Awakening; accenting the typical fair skin and blue eyes, he stands out amongst the Veldermarken masses, as one of his station naturally should. He carries himself with a proud swagger, a certain easy confidence that often strays into arrogance, and a cocksure grin is never far from his face. Personality An early introduction to the blessings and privileges of Dominant status shaped Jerrick from a young age. Patriotic Veldermarkens laud him as a just, outgoing, fierce, and courageous representative of Veldermarken pride and power; his detractors would call him arrogant, brash, reckless, and battle-hungry. What none can deny, however, is that the Warden of Thunder is absolutely fearless, ever eager to jump at the drums of war and charge ahead with the same might and vigour as the Levinbolts he wields. Some, however, would call him overzealous in that pursuit. Indeed, Jerrick fancies himself immortal - not that he's thought about it that hard, but the prospect that he, Jerrick Fjaldersson, Dominant of Ramuh and Warden of Thunder, could ever fall in battle (or by any other means) has truly never crossed his mind. Bio Jerrick's earliest memories are of a storm. He was in a wooden boat, soaked to the skin, being tossed about by a raging sea eager to drag him and his father to hell for daring to intrude upon its territory. Jerrick vividly remembers wondering what it was going to feel like to drown. He was no stranger to the water, even at the tender age of five; his father was a fisherman, and with his mother ill, he often took his boy out on the boat with him to drag in whatever the waters off the coast of Ash could offer. Rough waters weren't new to them, but a gale like this came hard and fast, and before they knew it they could do nothing but hold on for dear life - and their grip was slipping. Jerrick had wedged himself into the bow of their little clinker as it bucked, his father scrambling to stabilize them - to no avail. Before them rose a wave that was bound to swallow them whole. Realizing their fate, Jerrick's father abandoned his pursuits and gathered his son in his arms, praying for God to spare them. Jerrick did not share his father's serenity; the boy was struck with terrible fear as a wave the size of Ravenwit bore down upon them. In that moment, a great bolt of lightning struck, smashing the boat to splinters. Jerrick remembers very little of what happened after that. Weapon of Choice Spear |
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
________________________________________ Miriam Grâce “Maya” Desrosiers Female | 22 | Veradis, nee Doumerc Scion of Gravity _______________________________________________ “Did you see Scion Maya’s Instagram story?” ________________________________________ | “Let me guess: the Bishop wants to see me.” Holy Sigil Location Maya’s Holy Sigil is located on her throat. Appearance Maya is average height for a woman at 5'5", though she's usually boosted a bit taller with heels. She has a slim but shapely build, fair skin, and long, straight black hair, fairly typical of her Doumercène heritage. She typically dresses business casual, preferring skirts, stockings, and blouses in various styles. Her eyes are the colour of dark red wine, and her face, conventionally pretty, is often slack with boredom and mild contempt. When the cameras are on, however, her crowd-pleasing smile is second to none. Personality should be obvious Biography Maya was born in one of Doumerc’s smaller cities, an ancient settlement called Rivière-des-Larmes located on one bank of a wide river forming part of Doumerc’s historically contested border with Kaudus. One of the last remaining border settlements in Doumerc (after the rest were gradually abandoned in a diplomatic effort to ease tensions with Kaudus), tensions in Rivière-des-Larmes often run high, and the settlement is closely monitored by the Doumercène military, a rare sight in the rest of the country. However, being situated on a vital trade route both out to sea and inland to Rodion, Doumerc has yet to concede the town to Kaudus’ posturing from across the river. For Maya’s part, she was born into some privilege; while they had no claims to noble lineage, her family was fortunate as Rivière residents went. They owned a family business of some repute running cargo barges up and down the river, and while their contracts weren’t huge, they were consistent, and with hard work they made enough to live comfortably, a luxury not all in their town could afford. Maya herself was a difficult child, prone to stubbornness and temper, but she performed well in school; so well, in fact, that by the time she finished high school, she had earned herself a scholarship studying physics at a university in the nearby city. It wasn’t ivy league - it was an open secret that one needed lofty connections to get into one of those - but a degree from any Doumerc university would all but guarantee Maya a life much easier than the one her parents had worked for, and they were elated. Unfortunately, Maya’s scholarship worked more against her parents’ interests than in their favour. In her time away, Maya grew haughty, acquiring a taste for the sophistication and style of “big city” life and learning to look down upon the small-time border town and kitschy cargo business that raised her. Her summers home felt like prison, and even her advanced physics homework appealed to her more than helping out with the family business. But books still needed balancing, and cargo still needed checking, so Maya was unable to escape helping her parents out on the barges. One interesting bonus of the business was that, as a cargo carrier, the Desrosiers company was one of very few civilian companies with authorization to cross the river into Kaudus. With foreign relations strained as they were, they never had Kaudian clients, but the passport was necessary to get through checkpoints and to secure some limited protection in case docking on Kaudian shores was necessary. As it happened, one of the summer days that Maya’s father could drag her out to help with inventory was one such occasion, their barge suffering engine difficulties and a rudder failure that forced them to make landfall in Kaudus. An unscheduled landing in waters as well-traveled as the Larme would raise tensions anywhere, but a Doumercène ship in Kaudus doubly so; as such, tensions ran high as Maya, for once, stayed dutifully inside the bridge while her father attempted to explain the situation to the Kaudian authorities. However, while her father struggled to communicate in broken Kaudian, armed men from the shore boarded and began sweeping the ship. Then physics rolled over, and they fell into the sky. Things moved pretty quickly after that, and after narrowly avoiding several Kaudian attempts to kill her, Maya was secured by the Doumercène military and shortly thereafter, taken under the care of the Church. It was determined after a short investigation that she had become the new Scion of Gravity, after the widely published death of her predecessor two months prior. Maya was 22 years old at the time. It was jointly decided by the Church and Maya’s family (albeit strenuously objected to by Parliament) that, for her safety, Maya would leave Doumerc and reside in Veradis, at least for the time being. Maya, who had never been strongly religious and was loath to be told what to do, chafed under the Church’s tutelage at first, and to this day has a talent for pushing the buttons of the clergy, but you will never hear her complain about the accommodations: The Holy City of Juniperus is as far a cry from backwater Rivière-des-Larmes as one can get. On top of that, there is nowhere in the world where a Scion enjoys as much doting attention, and in the few years since inheriting her gift, Maya has become a darling of the media - maybe a little too chummy with them, if you were to ask her bishop. Weapon of Choice In circumstances where she's been approved for blatant uses of Gravity magic, Maya uses a blade-backed custom hammer. Otherwise, she carries a concealed handgun on her person at all times. Misc.
|
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
 ________________________________________ Irina Petrovna Albakova Female | 36 | Veradis, nee Rodion Templar of Gravity _______________________________________________ “Templar Albakova’s skill and dedication to her duty is second to none. Scion Desrosiers couldn’t have asked for a better protector.” “Yeah, but missing out on that promotion’s gotta sting…” ________________________________________ “You can run on for a long time, Run on for a long time…” | “That’s far enough.” Appearance Tall and well-muscled, Irina cuts an imposing figure at an impressive 5’10, with heeled riding boots usually making her taller still. Solidly built, it would be imprecise to call her “thin,” although she carries no extra weight; she has broad shoulders and long legs, and a layer of lightweight body armour ever-present under her clothing serves to further bulk up her frame. She dresses sharply at all times, but does not wear the overt armour favoured by some Templars, preferring a crisp dress uniform and polished leather boots fitting for a formal setting. With a shock of short white hair, piercing golden eyes, and a perpetual scowl, Irina could be said to resemble an eagle eyeing down its prey. Personality should be obvious Biography include where you were born, your former status (if you were a noble), your reason for becoming a Templar, how being a Templar has affected your life, and any current personal goals. Weapon of Choice Irina's melee weapon of choice is a modified heavy cavalry sabre, which, due to her unique Blessing, is quite a bit heavier than most would wield. She is proficient with firearms, but when prudence does not demand she keeps her distance, she prefers to deal with problems up close. Misc.
|
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
| ... | Church Officials |
|---|---|
 ............................................................. | High Cardinal Margaret [description] ............................................................................ |
 ............................................................. | Archbishop Elijah [Description] |
 ............................................................. | Commander Fyodor [Description] |
| ............................................................. | Dame Irina Albakova Templar Originally hailing from Rodion, Dame Irina has been a prominent feature of the Ordo Templi for almost two decades. In that time, she has come to serve Commander Fyodor in a number of important but unofficial roles, often assisting him in the training and discipline of recruits. Stern and uncompromising, any Templar who received their training within the past decade is familiar with her harsh reprimands and brutal methods - as well as her undeniable results. Possessed of a quiet piety and unbending will, she carries herself with all the dignity befitting her station, thinly veiling a palpable savagery underneath. Given her demonstrated excellence and considerable experience as a Templar, many among the ranks take her continued lack of assignment to a Scion as an indication that Commander Fyodor is reserving her as his successor. However, neither Irina nor the Commander have spoken publicly on the matter. |
| ... | Government Officials |
 ............................................................. | Prince Rowan Isadore Bachmeier Veradis II Principality of Veradis [description] |
 ............................................................. | Dr. Eliseo Rhaveus Adjunct Professor, Université de Sc-Thomas-des-Ombres Doumerc The youngest in a Lorenzian family of lawyers and political scholars, Dr. Rhaveus (or "Eli" to his peers) is the only member of his family to pursue a calling outside of the liberal arts. A prodigy in his own right, he attended an ivy league school in Doumerc at the tender age of 15 and never left the academic world, earning multiple advanced degrees in the fields of magical and elemental research. Anyone with an interest in obscure quantum manaphysics would recognize his name; he's the leading scholar on the subject, both by virtue of his sound and thorough research and the fact that he's essentially the only one writing about it. These days, he is excited to be teaching as an Adjunct at Ombres University, and at the request of the Doumercene Prime Minister, has joined a team researching methods of predicting Dark Scion inheritance. |
| ... | Current Scions & Templars |
 ............................................................. | High Prince Lucas Estora X Scion of Time Estora [descripton] |
 ............................................................. | Princess Isabella "Belle" Lanvaldear Rosaria Scion of Water Rosaria [this bitch] |
 ............................................................. | Princess Rosemary Clarabel Bachmeier Veradis Scion of Light Veradis [description] |
 ............................................................. | Dame Sonia Gusev Templar of Light An exemplary Templar by every measure, it was no surprise when Princess Rosemary received Dame Sonia as her protector. Although Commander Fyodor trained her well and none would challenge her merit, Sonia's modus operandi is almost a little uncouth for a Templar: if her longtime friend Irina is a scalpel, Sonia is a hammer. She will handle threats by any means available to her and has the air of someone who would not hesitate to crack your skull with a rock if you so much as looked at her funny. Given her standoffish nature, many thought it strange to choose Sonia as the Templar for a little girl; however, in the five years the two have been together, Rosemary has taken to Sonia, and some liken the pair to a gruff old wolf standing guard over a kitten. |
 ............................................................. | Portia Meliae Botanical Magic & Alchemy Instructor Tellurian Perhaps famous as the author of From Seed To Paradise, a staple in modern botanomantic terraforming concepts, Portia served as a senior consultant for the Bureau of Terraforming and Climate Manipulation for much of her life. Academy staff note that the Belworth case has recently sent her into a bit of a melancholy - not the trial per se, but the events leading up to it. While otherwise reserved and studious, she has some strong opinions about the Bureau's management of the situation and maintains the entire scenario could've been avoided. Fortunately, she avoids being roped into any political discussion on the matter despite this perceived sympathy for Belworth by taking a strongly anti-necromantic stance. Nobody likes arguing politics with a centrist. Aura: A gentle viridian glow, breached by rays of light like sunbeams from above. The smell of fresh soil emerges when the aura is first manifested, only to be overtaken by fresh floral scents over time. ............................................................................ |
| ............................................................. | Portia Meliae Botanical Magic & Alchemy Instructor Tellurian Perhaps famous as the author of From Seed To Paradise, a staple in modern botanomantic terraforming concepts, Portia served as a senior consultant for the Bureau of Terraforming and Climate Manipulation for much of her life. Academy staff note that the Belworth case has recently sent her into a bit of a melancholy - not the trial per se, but the events leading up to it. While otherwise reserved and studious, she has some strong opinions about the Bureau's management of the situation and maintains the entire scenario could've been avoided. Fortunately, she avoids being roped into any political discussion on the matter despite this perceived sympathy for Belworth by taking a strongly anti-necromantic stance. Nobody likes arguing politics with a centrist. Aura: A gentle viridian glow, breached by rays of light like sunbeams from above. The smell of fresh soil emerges when the aura is first manifested, only to be overtaken by fresh floral scents over time. ............................................................................ |
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
 ________________________________________ Sir Jannick Weber Male | 28 | Veradis Templar of Wind _______________________________________________ “Should he be smoking in here?” ________________________________________  | “Look at this shit, man. It might as well just say 'shoot here.’” Minor Holy Sigil Location Much to his chagrin, Jannick's minor sigil was placed over his heart. Appearance 5’10 and built solid, Jannick wouldn't stand out much in a lineup of his knighted peers. Nothing about him is flashy: his skin is as fair as the next Veradian's, his hair is the colour of wet sand, and his eyes are a flat hazel anyone could acceptably mistake for muddy brown. His expressions rarely extend beyond bored, tired, or irritated, and his only feature worth noticing is the perpetual presence of dark circles under his eyes. For the everyday, he has capitulated to dressing half-decently, usually sporting some combination of slacks and a button-down shirt, although ties don't usually make it to the end of the day. While he's still antsy without body armour, he has begrudgingly accepted that it's not always necessary or practical; however, he will never relinquish his shoulder holster, which he wears at all times. For formal occasions, he cleans up nice, and he usually wears his Templar uniform without modification. His hair is a bit longer now than it was in his crew-cut days, and ideally, he would maintain a clean shave. Ideally. Personality It is outwardly apparent that Jannick does not want to be here. He held it together well enough to get through his Templar training, but every day that passes is a day that it gets a little bit harder to pretend that his Blessing is the greatest gift on earth. He rolls his eyes in interviews, he smokes inside, he even refers to his Scion as “Holiness” - and sometimes just uses her given name. His patience grows thinner by the day, and his charge’s escape artist tendencies do nothing to alleviate his recurring headaches. He is a man of many words once you get him talking, but these days, very few of them are likely to be good. The one thing he doesn’t scrimp on, however, is vigilance. Jannick may not take the vaunted positions of Scion and Templar very seriously, but he does appreciate his duty: keeping people safe. Annoying or not, his charge is as worthy of protection as anyone, and his head is always on a swivel, always looking for the signs he was trained to watch out for to spot a dangerous situation before it occurs. But he just can’t wrap his head around prioritizing his Scion and nobody else - as such, he has a tendency to slip back into his old habits and stick his nose in brewing conflicts when he finds them, even if his Scion isn’t involved. Biography Faith is a staple of everyday life in Veradis, and nowhere more than Juniperus itself. As such, Jannick, the middle child of six, got all the fixings of the pious upbringing: he went to a religious school, he served as an altar boy, and his parents made sure the whole family was in the pews every Sunday. To him, it was as routine as it was rigorous, with one teaching drilled deepest of them all: the Goddess loves you. That wasn’t to say he didn’t love the Church, but what captured his young mind was not the priest at the altar, but the guards at the door: the Church Knights in their gleaming armour, shining like angels in the sun. Juniperus was crawling with them; with no civilian authority in the Holy City, all matters of public order were handled by the Church. Church Knights patrolled the streets, directed traffic, put out fires, and of course, fought crime. To Jannick, it seemed like they were the very force that made the world go round. And he wanted to be one of them. The year of his seventh birthday, he begged and pleaded with his parents for months to let him become a page. While they were apprehensive at first, his pitiable whining must have worn them down eventually, because when the day finally came, he was introduced to Sir Ulrich Gerhardt, a man not too long out of knighthood himself. The new year would see Jannick join Sir Ulrich at the Civitas Equitum, where he got the chance not only to learn the basics of knighthood, but to rub elbows with the scores of other Knights, pages and squires who called the city barracks home. It was a dream come true. The instruction of an aspiring Church Knight is rigorous and demanding, but Jannick sucked up every drop of it, from the mounted swordplay lessons to the late-night toilet cleaning. But his very favourite part was the field work, when he got to accompany Sir Ulrich on his duties. Sir Ulrich wasn’t the Knight Jannick had always pictured when he played Knights and Monsters with his siblings: instead of a traveling monster slayer or the Templar to a Scion, he was an officer of the Juniperus Police Department. His duties were varied and unique, and during his time as a squire Jannick accompanied Sir Ulrich on mounted patrols, investigations of crime scenes, arrests of petty criminals, and more small-time court appearances than Jannick cared to remember. It was a strange job for a Knight, Jannick initially thought. It had its share of action, no doubt, and the JPD took immense pride in keeping the streets of the Holy City safe from all manner of crime - but at the same time, the job possessed a level of intimacy with the people of Juniperus that had never before come to Jannick’s mind, but soon became to him the very essence of a Knight. In the stories of his youth, the Knights were always slaying monsters on behalf of faceless villagers or questing at the behest of nameless clergymen for the good of the all-encompassing Church. But in Sir Ulrich’s line of work, the villagers had faces, names, and children who got lost and needed finding; the clergy consoled people whose apartments were broken into and whose assailants needed to be held accountable for their crimes. After a while, police work became, to Jannick, the truest expression of knighthood. When he was 21, the time for his own knighting finally came. It surprised no one, least of all Sir Ulrich, when Jannick traded his golden breastplate for a kevlar vest and joined the JPD. No one would argue that it was the right choice for Jannick, but life came at him fast, and he learned soon after his knighting that the calls Sir Ulrich saw fit to bring his squire along on were not the only calls the JPD had to deal with. Juniperus had no more crime than any other city of comparable size - with its heavy Knight presence, it probably had less - but the police department was kept busy all the same. Crushing boredom on patrol could turn into a deadly encounter in an instant; every time the radio screeched, Jannick never knew what he would face next. At first, it was exhilarating. In time, it came to test his faith. He grew up learning - knowing - one thing above all others: the Goddess loved her children. That was why she created them; that was why, when they called out to her in anguish, she gifted them her essence, creating the Scions. But he was no clergyman; despite his training as a Knight, he didn’t know or understand the deep mysteries of the faith Incepta had instilled into her Church. He didn’t know why, if she loved her children so much, they so frequently forgot her teachings and turned on each other. He didn’t know why the Mother was so content to let it happen. As a police officer, Jannick saw firsthand the depths of human suffering and depravity. He unearthed the OD victims from their squalid apartments, nameless and known only to landlords complaining of the smell. He wrestled battered women as they begged him hysterically to let their boyfriends go free, only to respond to their house again the next weekend. He pulled the mangled bodies of children from twisted cars while the drunks who hit them walked away spotless. When he looked up, Jannick saw the gleaming spires of the Cathedra Incepta, the points of the Sigil star embracing the city like the open, loving arms of the Goddess herself. But when he looked around, he wondered if he and his heavenly Mother were seeing the same thing. The years passed, and he didn’t pray much anymore. Jannick’s growing burnout must have been apparent, because unbeknownst to him, Sir Ulrich had taken it upon himself to give Jannick a chance at a different career: a Templar. But when news came that Sir Ulrich had recommended him for the position and he’d been accepted, Jannick was devastated; he couldn’t deny that the reality of police work weighed heavily on him, but the answer wasn’t to walk away. If there was so much evil in the world, and Incepta clearly wasn’t doing anything about it, then somebody had to act. He had been working ever more intently, foregoing leisure and taking on a daunting overtime regimen, because someone had to do something. He needed to be out in the streets, not guarding some vaunted magic brat. But there was nothing he could do. Sir Ulrich meant well, but it doomed him: if Jannick refused such an honour, his reputation as a Church Knight serving the Holy City would be irreparably cratered. No citizen of Juniperus would trust a police officer who didn’t think guarding a Scion was worth his while, and even if the people didn’t care, his superiors certainly would. The best job he could hope for if he refused would be as a deputy in some backwater Rodion village shooting polar bears, if he wasn't stuck at a customs desk in some forsaken airport. If he wasn't stripped of his Knighthood altogether under suspicion of apostasy, that is. The choice was made for him, made all the more painful by the fact that he had to accept it himself. And now he’s no longer Officer Weber, but Sir Jannick, Templar of Wind, in charge of a Scion who somehow takes the whole “blessed by the Goddess” schtick about as seriously as he does. Honestly, that’s probably even more insulting. Weapon of Choice They took back his standard-issue handgun when he left the police department, so Jannick spent his stipend on a pair of his own, which he carries in his shoulder holster at all times. In addition to that, he'll suit up with a military-style carbine when he has time to prepare, and he's always been an advocate of the good old-fashioned baton. Misc.
|
OP
Obscene Symphony sea wench
Member
Seen
30 days ago
“The Earth King took our kindness for weakness. That won't happen a second time.”
NAME
AGE
BIRTHPLACE
ELEMENT
APPEARANCE DETAILS
PERSONALITY
BIOGRAPHY
TRIVIA
Zai Yao
AGE
18
BIRTHPLACE
Fire Nation Capital
ELEMENT
Fire
APPEARANCE DETAILS
A young man of average height, like many of his neighbours, Zai has clearly seen better days. While it is clear he was once fit and strong, his cheeks have grown sallow on long days and short rests, and a few visible ribs attest that it's been a long time since he's seen a hearty meal. His dark brown hair hangs limp and lifeless at his shoulders, chopped raggedly with a knife and often pulled back in a ponytail. He dresses like any Earth Kingdom peasant down on his luck, his clothes weather-stained and well worn, and often wears a wide-brimmed straw hat to ward off searching eyes. Underneath, although often rimmed by tired circles, his topaz eyes contrast his tired frame, remaining at all times sharp and alert.
PERSONALITY
"Firebending has no training wheels. Learning requires boldness. You have to step beyond the limits of your control and trust in your ability to wrest it back again. Every time you bend, you walk a razor's edge between control and chaos. It is not for the faint of heart."
Zai is a true son of the Fire Nation: proud, strong-willed, and driven. What little that dares to stand between him and what he wants is met with ferocity and uncompromising resolve. Similarly, his experience shadowing his father in diplomacy has shown him to approach problems from many angles, and given him an appreciation for solving problems with words as well as actions.
However, most of his shadowing was done in talks with existing allies, and they rarely involved truly opposing interests - in almost all cases, a deal could usually be reached to mutual satisfaction. As such, his skill in diplomacy is still lacking when it comes to an obstinate adversary, and Zai can quickly become frustrated with them, too proud to concede too much in the name of compromise. Zai also knows that his instincts and discipline need work; try as he might, he is still vulnerable to letting his own feelings get in the way of getting a truly insightful read on a situation.
Above all, Zai loves his country and his heritage, and chafes bitterly under the yoke of the Earth Kingdom. A stewing distrust and growing hatred for the Earth Kingdom has taken root in his heart as the insult and betrayal of his father’s disappearance and his own attempted arrest festers, fueled more by every grueling day and hungry night he spends as a fugitive on their soil.
Zai is a true son of the Fire Nation: proud, strong-willed, and driven. What little that dares to stand between him and what he wants is met with ferocity and uncompromising resolve. Similarly, his experience shadowing his father in diplomacy has shown him to approach problems from many angles, and given him an appreciation for solving problems with words as well as actions.
However, most of his shadowing was done in talks with existing allies, and they rarely involved truly opposing interests - in almost all cases, a deal could usually be reached to mutual satisfaction. As such, his skill in diplomacy is still lacking when it comes to an obstinate adversary, and Zai can quickly become frustrated with them, too proud to concede too much in the name of compromise. Zai also knows that his instincts and discipline need work; try as he might, he is still vulnerable to letting his own feelings get in the way of getting a truly insightful read on a situation.
Above all, Zai loves his country and his heritage, and chafes bitterly under the yoke of the Earth Kingdom. A stewing distrust and growing hatred for the Earth Kingdom has taken root in his heart as the insult and betrayal of his father’s disappearance and his own attempted arrest festers, fueled more by every grueling day and hungry night he spends as a fugitive on their soil.
BIOGRAPHY
“Dad, why do we get our food from the Earth Kingdom?”
Zai’s father was a highly ranked government official in the Fire Nation. As the dignitary of foreign affairs, he worked closely with the Fire Lord himself to arrange trade agreements and other dealings with the other three nations. It was a good gig; the nations had always been at peace and maintained amiable relationships, and it was rarely very difficult to finalize deals - there was rarely friction, and most of his job was just a matter of negotiating the minutiae to every party’s satisfaction. He travelled often and had many friends across the world, and considered himself very lucky.
Until things started getting… tense.
By the time Zai, his first son, was born, the Fire Nation’s relationship with the Earth Kingdom was starting to get a little strained. Prices of imported goods, especially food, began to rise, and proved something of a stumbling block for their relationship. It seemed like nothing at first - the Earth Kingdom had a weak harvest this year, the seas were rough that year, and so on - and later, reports of strife inside the Earth Kingdom seemed to confirm that the trade interruptions were simply the result of a series of unfortunate events befalling the Fire Nation’s long-time trade partner.
By the time Zai was 10, the effects of poor trade were becoming noticeable even in the Capital. Shortages were taking their toll even on the aristocracy’s dinner tables, and high inflation was sparking the beginnings of civil unrest. However, the people of the Fire Nation did not easily yield to stress, and their strong sense of unity and patriotism allowed them to band together and maintain order even as their situation grew more and more precarious.
Fortunately, as the son of a dignitary, Zai was shielded from much of his Nation’s growing suffering. He never went hungry, never felt unsafe, and never had to go without. He enjoyed a happy home life and a fine education, receiving firebending training from the same Master who trained the children of the Fire Lord. He took to bending readily and with great enthusiasm, and it wasn’t long before he became an accomplished firebender himself.
But as the years wore on, the Fire Nation’s position only got worse. Trade slowed to a trickle, and although Zai was still sheltered from the worst of it, his Nation’s hardships were always present to him. He was not blind to the suffering of his people; his heart hurt for them, and he wanted nothing more than to learn all he could from his father to follow in his footsteps and serve the Fire Nation.
When he was 17, his chance finally came to make a real difference. Things were becoming desperate for the Fire Nation, and increased reliance on the Water Tribe and Air Nomads was not enough to effectively ease the strain. Zai had shadowed his father for a few years on stop-gap measures with the two more friendly nations, but now the Fire Lord tasked him with his most important job yet: to visit the Earth King and negotiate an end to the trade interruptions. To his delight, Zai was allowed to accompany his father on the trip to observe his father working his magic when it mattered most.
Ba Sing Se was a marvel to behold, and Zai and his father received a royal welcome. Many meetings were held with Earth Kingdom representatives - of agriculture, shipping, fisheries, and many more - and before long, Zai’s head was spinning from the complexity of it all. It was over a month before the Earth King himself would meet with Zai’s father.
But when the time finally came to see the Earth King, Zai's father told him to stay behind. Confused and hurt, Zai tried to argue, but begrudgingly agreed to wait for his father in their guest mansion in the Upper Ring, wondering why his father thought he was unworthy.
But his father never came back.
In a single evening, Zai turned from guest of honour to fugitive - and worse, he didn’t know why. He had to escape the clutches of the Dai Li in Ba Sing Se and flee on his own, his father’s royal escort nowhere to be found. By the time Zai reached the coast, and was turned away, he learned the horrible truth: the Earth King had declared war on the Fire Nation and launched a brutal assault, only barely held off with the help of their allies in the Water Tribe. As a result, the coast was locked down, and Zai was stranded.
It’s been a year since then, and Zai has been barely scraping by in a small Earth Kingdom village near the coast, forced to conceal both his identity and his bending under threat of internment. He does not know what became of his father, and he has no way to contact his mother. He watches anxiously from the other side of the sea, scratching for any information he can get on the status of his home, but powerless to do anything to help. All he knows is that somehow, he needs to find his father - and make the Earth King pay for what he's done.
“It’s a beneficial relationship, Zai. We have things they want, like money and resources, and they have something we want. By trading in this way, both nations are made stronger and more prosperous than they were before.”
Zai’s father was a highly ranked government official in the Fire Nation. As the dignitary of foreign affairs, he worked closely with the Fire Lord himself to arrange trade agreements and other dealings with the other three nations. It was a good gig; the nations had always been at peace and maintained amiable relationships, and it was rarely very difficult to finalize deals - there was rarely friction, and most of his job was just a matter of negotiating the minutiae to every party’s satisfaction. He travelled often and had many friends across the world, and considered himself very lucky.
Until things started getting… tense.
By the time Zai, his first son, was born, the Fire Nation’s relationship with the Earth Kingdom was starting to get a little strained. Prices of imported goods, especially food, began to rise, and proved something of a stumbling block for their relationship. It seemed like nothing at first - the Earth Kingdom had a weak harvest this year, the seas were rough that year, and so on - and later, reports of strife inside the Earth Kingdom seemed to confirm that the trade interruptions were simply the result of a series of unfortunate events befalling the Fire Nation’s long-time trade partner.
By the time Zai was 10, the effects of poor trade were becoming noticeable even in the Capital. Shortages were taking their toll even on the aristocracy’s dinner tables, and high inflation was sparking the beginnings of civil unrest. However, the people of the Fire Nation did not easily yield to stress, and their strong sense of unity and patriotism allowed them to band together and maintain order even as their situation grew more and more precarious.
Fortunately, as the son of a dignitary, Zai was shielded from much of his Nation’s growing suffering. He never went hungry, never felt unsafe, and never had to go without. He enjoyed a happy home life and a fine education, receiving firebending training from the same Master who trained the children of the Fire Lord. He took to bending readily and with great enthusiasm, and it wasn’t long before he became an accomplished firebender himself.
But as the years wore on, the Fire Nation’s position only got worse. Trade slowed to a trickle, and although Zai was still sheltered from the worst of it, his Nation’s hardships were always present to him. He was not blind to the suffering of his people; his heart hurt for them, and he wanted nothing more than to learn all he could from his father to follow in his footsteps and serve the Fire Nation.
When he was 17, his chance finally came to make a real difference. Things were becoming desperate for the Fire Nation, and increased reliance on the Water Tribe and Air Nomads was not enough to effectively ease the strain. Zai had shadowed his father for a few years on stop-gap measures with the two more friendly nations, but now the Fire Lord tasked him with his most important job yet: to visit the Earth King and negotiate an end to the trade interruptions. To his delight, Zai was allowed to accompany his father on the trip to observe his father working his magic when it mattered most.
Ba Sing Se was a marvel to behold, and Zai and his father received a royal welcome. Many meetings were held with Earth Kingdom representatives - of agriculture, shipping, fisheries, and many more - and before long, Zai’s head was spinning from the complexity of it all. It was over a month before the Earth King himself would meet with Zai’s father.
But when the time finally came to see the Earth King, Zai's father told him to stay behind. Confused and hurt, Zai tried to argue, but begrudgingly agreed to wait for his father in their guest mansion in the Upper Ring, wondering why his father thought he was unworthy.
But his father never came back.
In a single evening, Zai turned from guest of honour to fugitive - and worse, he didn’t know why. He had to escape the clutches of the Dai Li in Ba Sing Se and flee on his own, his father’s royal escort nowhere to be found. By the time Zai reached the coast, and was turned away, he learned the horrible truth: the Earth King had declared war on the Fire Nation and launched a brutal assault, only barely held off with the help of their allies in the Water Tribe. As a result, the coast was locked down, and Zai was stranded.
It’s been a year since then, and Zai has been barely scraping by in a small Earth Kingdom village near the coast, forced to conceal both his identity and his bending under threat of internment. He does not know what became of his father, and he has no way to contact his mother. He watches anxiously from the other side of the sea, scratching for any information he can get on the status of his home, but powerless to do anything to help. All he knows is that somehow, he needs to find his father - and make the Earth King pay for what he's done.
TRIVIA
- Zai’s favourite food is blackened eelfish. He’s yet to find it outside the Fire Nation.
- In the Earth Kingdom, he goes by "Sho."
© 2007-2024