Animus — Roleplayer Guild

Player Characters

Animus:Red-haired, flame-wielding battle fanatic, seemingly smart at times but still does stupid things.

 Isen’roy Dullan, “Phoenix”

Age
30

Gender
Male

Appearance
He was not named Phoenix without reason. Isen’roy often stands in the battlefield as a red speck amongst the typical grey armoured soldiers. The man stands at 5’9 and weighs a 170 pounds, his weight mostly due to muscle mass. He has bright red hair, the bulk of it being neck length with the exception of a pony tail that drops below his shoulders. He has crimson red eyes and sharp facial features making him known for his fierce lion-like look. He is dressed in his tribe’s signature red robes.

Kingdom
The Earth Kingdom (Exiled)

Persona
Despite being an exile, Isen’roy gives off the same strong and noble aura that one might expect from a general. Every single one of his movements exude pride and confidence. He is not pragmatic and instead acts according to his own impulses. He does not attempt nor sees the need to accommodate to others. Isen’roy does have a nicer side though, he is empathetic to those close to him and he greatly values friendship. 

Post Example
“In case you were wondering,” said the bandit in what almost passed as a friendly tone, leaning casually on the pommel of his war hammer as if it was a fashion accessory, “this is the part where you’re supposed to offer to pay for our drinks.”

Isen’roy clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had disguised himself in a robed hood to avoid any commotion. He had visited a village on the outskirts of the Earth Kingdom so he could procure simple supplies. “It would do you good if you backed off, here and now.”

As the man with the war hammer roared with laughter and opened his mouth to reply, a second –a burly man with a short sandy cropped hair – leaned on the shaft of his spear as he started laughing. “Would you listen to him, Gark? Oooooh, we’re both so scared now.”

The entire pub was silent. Onlookers darted their eyes back and forth as they sneaked looks at the two large men threatening Isen’roy. Even the bartender was trying to avert his gaze. He had no intentions of getting broken bones because he tried to save a complete stranger.

Isen’roy clicked his tongue yet again, this time taking his hood off as he did so.

It took a moment before it dawned upon them who they were messing around with. There was no mistaking that bright red hair and the fierce crimson gaze that seemingly cut through them. 

“Wha-what the hell is the Phoenix doing here?!” yelped the man with the sandy hair. Even after laying low for several years, the public still had not forgotten his face.

As he watched their reactions, Isen’roy gave an evil grin. 

"Who knows?"

He swung his fist.

Equipment

Impetus. A red two handed, double-edged sword that has a dull blade. One might argue about the effectiveness of the weapon. What use is a sword with a dull edge? Regardless, it is made from rubite ore, an extremely dense and durable metal that has the unique property of retaining heat.

Ability/Magic/Technology:

Isen’roy possess no magic talent whatsoever. Instead, he focuses on melee combat and uses high speed movement as well as unorthodox fighting methods to defeat his foes. He does not rely on strategy nor does he possess the capabilities of creating one, Isen’roy is purely an ‘instinct’ type warrior. His physical feats are astounding. He is capable of swinging Impetus around at incredible speeds; the generated friction and heat allows the blunt edge to slice through even the toughest armaments. A signature move of Isen'roy is to run at high speeds while rotating his blade, essentially turning him into a giant fireball.

The Windel: Red-haired, flame-wielding spunky onee-san that thinks she's responsible for the young ones.
Name: Solanne Luxone
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Kingdom: Sky Kingdom
Personality:
Bright, chipper, and just overall optimistic, if one were to call Solanne a tomboy, she’d jokingly pound them on the shoulder before saying that they weren’t doing her enough justice. Yeah, she’s one of those girls. To be fair though, her laid-back and happy persona is normally a fresh relief to all the slaughtering going on.

It usually takes something truly horrendous or traumatic to dampen Solanne’s burning spirit and joking nature. Did we mention the laid-back attitude? Yes? Good, then now you know that it also takes something incredibly dire for Solanne to be taken seriously.

Despite her initial cheery front though, she does admit that her life has been crappy so far with all the old warring between Kingdoms. Only the most observant and perceptive can see through her idiotic grin. Because of her own past, Solanne is dead set determined to create a future where everyone can smile freely. 

As such, she is usually one to put everyone, friends and allies alike, above her own well-being, sometimes ranging to levels of naivety. She is fiercely loyal to those she wants to protect and will do just about anything for them.

Just don’t screw around with her trust. Unless you want a few teeth shaved off.

“Stop! Thief! Thief!”

“Wha-thief? Hey, don’t you know who I am? I’m the Crimson Hound!”

“All the more reason to stop you scum!”

“Well, hey now, that’s no way to talk to a lady, ya know? Didn’t you learn manners back at knight academy? Or whatever you guys go to.”

“That is none of your concern heathen! Come quietly or we will be forced to-”

Smack.

The first guard had his faced slammed by a closed fist, held still in motion. In actuality, he had ran right into it headfirst and was now feeling his nose crack under its weight. The man reeled back, spluttering to the ground as his fellow guards looked on in surprise.

Solanne was no longer running. In fact, she had made an abrupt halt in the middle of the road and extended her arm into a fist. That would explain why guard number one was now sprawling on the ground with a bloodied nose, as red as the girl’s hair. The Crimson Hound caught all of their attention now with a casual crack of her knuckles.

“So I’m a heathen now. I catch that right?”

The guards tensed up, gripping their weapons tightly. They would not be intimidated by this woman’s confidence that seemed to bloat up the more she spoke. With a terse swallow, the second guard let out a battle cry and charged forward with his lance. The others followed behind him with their own rallying screech, leaving their downed comrade for now.

Solanne sighed.

“Well, I can’t you kill all. You’re only doing your job, ya know, and I respect that.”

A pause.

“That said…I hope you didn’t have plans tonight. Cause each of you ain’t leaving till I give you an ass whooping,” Solanne said with a smirk, rearing back to let the fists fly.

Just another Tuesday night.

Equipment: A sword by the name of Duster. Its blade is composed entirely of hardened and purified flame and ash, sharpened to cut through a good majority of things. Solanne’s default weapon, it is also able to channel and release her fire magic to deadly proportions.

Ability/Magic/Technology: Apart from generating and manipulating flames, from the tiniest ember to the most violent firestorm, Solanne possesses the power to collect all moisture in the area and convert it into kinetic energy, thus producing more powerful flames. Furthermore, it leaves the targeted area weakened and fatigued, causing all the effects of liquid-deprivation. That being said, rendering all of the moisture in the air is a deadly technique that is only be used as a last resort given that it affects the user just as much as the intended targets.
Black-haired, mild mannered, corpse collecting kind hearted yet somewhat twisted malevolent mage.
Name: Marianne
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Kingdom: Sky Kingdom
Personality:
Marianne is quite the interesting persona to all that happen to stumble upon her. Despite the fact that she’s a dark mage and generally looked upon with fear and scorn for meddling in the forbidden arts, she is soft-spoken and polite a good majority of the time. So much so in fact, that she often stresses the proper difference between a lady and a heathen to anyone caring to listen.

That being said, Marianne’s favorite topic of discussion would have to be the many ways in which to incapacitate her foes. She’s the kind of person who would gladly explain to you when and how you’ll die over a cup of tea. She does not fear death, claiming that death is only the next stage in Atro’s course. Of course, that doesn’t excuse her rather…odd habits. 

She’s called the Corpse Collector for a reason.

One such habit seems to be a fascination with eyes. Human eyes, dragon eyes…really anything that moves around in the socket and blinks. Probably has something to do with her covered right eye, though she’ll momentarily drop the regal air and proceed to go into something akin to a panic attack whenever people mention it.

And yet despite all of these…interesting features, Marianne is a person that genuinely cares for those around her. That is, those who can tolerate her poetic and morbid nature. Of course, with friendship comes loyalty and protection. The others may be bound by their morality, but Marianne is a girl who is willing to do any and all things for the sake of her friends. Anything…even if it means taking a few lives through dirty manners.

“Oh, but don’t you think his eyes are so wonderful sir? Just look!”

Smiling at the traveler, Marianne leaned in to gently pry the dead man’s eye lid open. Her fingers and thumb gently caressed the iris, as if treating a wounded animal or comforting a newborn. It was…well, really creepy if one had to be blunt with her.

“You can tell from that little speck in his lower corner that he died believing in what he fought for. And that he was scared. Really, really, really scared. It’s funny sir!”

Suddenly, the edge of her fingers began to glow with an inky purple smoke. She was using dark magic to do something…without warning or notice, she quickly plucked the dead man’s eye right out of his socket. A soft plop sound was faintly heard as the dark deed was done. Grinning widely, she held up the dripping orb for the now trembling traveler to see. The iris was a rich blue in tint.

“Oops. Never mind. I suppose I didn’t need your help anyway? No, that’s not right…I guess I just wanted an audience. ”

She giggled happily before placing the severed eye into a small pocket on her dress. 

“Nosferatu," she began to explain. "It’s really a handy little spell, right? The user grows strong by taking the victim’s life and stamina. Or, that’s how it’s supposed to go I think.”

Turning around, she was about to plunder the second one when she sensed the air around them shift. She turned back to notice that the Crimson Hound’s presence was soon fading. Sighing, she gave the corpse one more longing look before making up her mind.

“The Crimson Hound is leaving without us sir, so it’s best for us to take our leave now, lest we lose track of her. I hear she’s still got some pretty cool looking eyes herself. Isn't that why you want to meet her too? You came here to meet her, right? Because she’s got awesome eyes...right?”

Not caring for a real answer to her questions, Marianne grabbed the man’s hand with the palm that held the eye, smearing blood and eye fluid all over his figure. She eagerly began to pull him along in the direction of the Crimson Hound. She didn’t take more than five feet before pausing.

“By the way mister, about you…it looks like you have two different colored eyes yourself.”

She turned around and flashed him a smile.

“If you die on me…promise me I can have them. Ok?”

Her tone immediately changed once more as she whirled around and continued to make haste for her big sister. Just what was with this girl?

Equipment: Apart from her eye-patch, Marianne is usually found with a variety of body parts on her figure. Be it an eye, severed finger, or something much more gruesome, chances are that if it grows on the body, Marianne has collected it in some way. Furthermore, she carries her trusty grimoire and personal diary, Lazarus around at all times.

Ability/Magic/Technology: Marianne’s grimoire is named Lazarus for good reason. As a mage that practices in the dark arts, her magical prowess is unnaturally high for someone her age. Of course, such power does wonders in corroding the mentality of her person, making her unstable at times. Her most potent technique involves stealing the life of her enemies and using the resulting force to heal her own figure. 

Though despite her eerily powerful control over the unnatural and…just plain disturbing forces, her mastery over the dark arts leaves her vulnerable to lighter arcane magics. That, and she hates bright magic due to it being hard to look at.

Crimson Lion: Black-haired, handsome, young and genius all-rounder warrior making a name for himself.
Name: Amadeus Cross
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Appearance: He stands at 5'8, with a muscular lean build. His hair is jet black, short, and messy with a rats tail that reach's his lower back. He has silver eyes, but they are often covered by his bangs. His casual clothes are a long sleeved black shirt and tan cargo pants. 
Kingdom: Earth Kingdom, Originally from the Sky Kingdom
Personality: He's a shy and formal person, addressing people as sir or mam when meeting them. Only talking informally when he talks to friends. He'd rather talk to someone one on one then in a group. Although smart and skilled, he has little actual experience compared to others his rank.
Amadeus is a very logical person, but if his ally is in trouble, he'll throw all rationality away in order to save them.
Post Bio: Amadeus is a soldier of the Earth Kingdom, a young aspiring warrior that thinks things through before taking actions. He's a strategist at heart, valuing information over anything else. He's well informed of almost all documented monsters. His hobbies are cooking, reading, and looking for books he has yet to read. He dislikes the thought of acting upon religion, hating the thought that a higher power has a plan for everyone and that you should stick to that plan.
He's unliked by most other soldiers, due to the fact that his quietness is mistaken for cockiness and that he was promoted easily despite his age and previous nationality.
Equipment: Over his casual clothes he wears his metal armor with black accents that consist of a small chest plate, greaves, and gauntlets. On his lower back, he possesses the sword Pride, one-handed long sword with a golden hilt, 1 foot long grip and 3 feet long black single edged blade. The sword breaks down any magic it comes in contact with, it is one of a set of 7 weapons said to have been created by a demon.
Abilities: He's both knowledgeable and a master of every type of weapon. His armors lightness gives him great mobility. He is knowledgeable in elemental magic as well as sealing and protection magic. He also has a hidden power that he doesn't like to use. Before missions, he changes his gear to compliment the mission.

Amadeus steadied his breathing as he leaned against a tree, trying to hide from the beast that was chasing him. The cold night breeze hit him as he calmed himself and looked around the corner to catch a glimpse of the monster chasing him. The beast was humanoid, having dark green skin and stood the same size as as trees around him. 

'A Giant?! No can't be, Giants don't inhabit forests, especially forests this close to civilization. Orc? No, he's to big. Ogre then, must have accidentally got seperated from its clan. It must just be a baby according to its size.

He silently unsheathed the sword on his lower back, ready to strike. 

'I only have one chance at this, lets make it count!

He swiftly left his hidding spot behind the tree and ran strait for the monster. He readied his sword for an upward slash as he held his left arm out, beginning to chant as he did. "LUCIDARA!!!" He yelled as a bright flash of light shot out of his palm and into the beasts face, efficiently blinding it making it lean forward.

'Ogre's aren't good with sudden light, their eyes adjust to quickly and it disorientates them.' He thought to himself as he finally arrived right in front of it. He jumped straight up, aiming for the small part of the neck that ogres are weak at "DIIIIIEEEEEE!!!" He yelled as Pride cleanly cut the young Ogres durable flesh.

The sound of the Ogres cry as it was decapitated filled the air of the otherwise quiet forest. Then the comparativably quiet sound of its head falling to the floor in perfect synchronization as Amadeus landing on the ground was heard, followed by the small shake of its body collapsing. Amadeus looked at the monster on the ground and sighed in relief as he repeated the words he told himself every day, "Analyze the situation, Uncover the enemy weak point, and Execute the attack." He sheathed Pride and began walking back to the city, thinking about the events that led to him being in the forest at night. "All because I had a craving for blueberries." He said as he looked to the pouch at his side that held said berries.

I'm still kinda new to this so please be patient with me
Brown-haired and an avenging samurai who also doubles as a blacksmith.
Name: Kazeharu Kajiya

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Appearance: 

Kingdom: Water Kingdom

Personality: A laid back, wandering samurai and blacksmith with only one reason to live, to avenge the village he lost. Because of his past he is a hardened alcoholic, always carrying a full bottle of sake. Despite always drinking, he is very aware of his surroundings, although rarely takes actions about it. 

Weapons: Being a blacksmith plus the fact that he is always traveling, Nihon carries an assortment of katanas that he sells. One of which being his personal orange katana, Churippu.

Abilities: Harukaze is a master swordsman in the art of Mugen No Ha, a sword style that utilizes any number of swords between 1 and 7. So although most of the swords on his side are for sale, he can use them in in combat if need be. He is proficient in gravity affecting magic.

Post Example:
It was evening, a cool night breeze ran through the air as it chilled all who walked outside. In the middle of the streets of Varial, a small town along the coast of the Water Kingdom, Kazeharu, having 4 blades at his side, sat outside of a bar at the docks watching the ships coming into the harbor after a long day of fishing and drinking through his bottle of sake. “Ahhhhh, now that hits the spot.” the drunk man said. 

Just as he was about to take another sip, a man was thrown through the door and landed right behind him. Kazeharu looked behind him and examined the man, or more like a boy since he seemed to only be 21. Then a pair of men with standard Water Kingdom army blades walked out of the bar, one wearing an eye patch and the other having a buzzcut. ‘Soldiers?’ Kazeharu thought.

“Now listen boy!” Eyepatch said as both he and buzzcut unsheathed their blades. “This bar is for Water Kingdom soldiers ONLY! We deserve to have a bar to ourselves after risking our necks for people like YOU! So don’t even think about stepping back in there unless you want us to chop your head off.” He said as he held the tip of his sword to the boys. 

“Yeah, so just get lost you piece of shit.” Buzzcut said as he put his sword on his shoulder.

Kazeharu looked past the men and into the bar, he could see around 5 other drunk soldiers and a bartender who looked like he was trapped in a cage of lions. ‘Not my problem.’ He thought as he looked back forward and continued to drink.

The young man on the ground nodded in agreement and ran away frantically, that’s when Buzzcut saw Kazeharu drinking, “Hey you, what are you doing just sitting there? Get lost! You’re blocking the view of the ocean!” Kazeharu heard, but ignored the man's warning. 

Eyepatch walked forward towards the man sitting down, “Did you hear the man? MOVE!” he yelled as he swiped the bottle that Kazeharu was drinking from and threw it into the water.

Kazeharu looked at the soldiers standing in front of him, then at his alcohol in the water, then back at the two soldiers. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you?” Kazeharu said as he used his thumb to loosen his orange katana, “It’s rude to waste food” he then fully unsheathed his blade, Churippu. “Let me re-educate you.” he said as he held his sword to his side. 

Buzzcut looked over to his friend, then back to the man in front of him. “Your funeral man.” he said as he swung vertically at the drunk samurai. In a split second, the samurai stepped to the side and slashed diagonally at the man's chest, killing him. 

“You bastard!” the soldier said with his last breath. As he fell to the ground, the other soldiers ran outside with swords in hand and surrounded the drunk.

“You’re dead meat now boy!” one man said, “We’ll show you what happens when you mess with the Water Kingdom!” another said.

“Oh please, I bet you guys have never even fought on the front lines. You’re nothing more than a bunch of powerless soldiers who bully other people.” Kazeharu said as he grabbed his bundle of swords and jerked his arm up, causing the last three blades to fly into the air, “I’ll guide your corrupt souls towards your friend as you all enter the gates of hell together!” He yelled with a psychopathic grin. 

He horizontally slashed a man to his right, then impaled the man next to him. He unsheathed the blade from the man's chest and threw it into the air, as his other swords were about to hit the ground, he grabbed two of them in the air while the third fell to the ground. He span around, slicing another two soldiers though their chests. One soldier ran forward and tried a diagonal slash toward the samurai, who then kicked up the third sword and then kicked it again at the bottom of the hilt, impaling the man. 

“W-what the?” Eyepatch said as he began stepping backward before falling over. “What the hell are you?!” he yelled as he pointed the sword at the samurai. 

Kazeharu looked upwards as Churuppi was about to fall in front of him, “I’m a survivor.” he whispered as he moved forward with expert timing and grabbed the blade with his mouth. He then ran forward and parried the man's sword with Churuppi as the other two blades impaled the Eyepatch. 

Kazeharu looked around at the 7 dead bodies, he quickly sheathed the two blades in his hands and then retrieved the blades in the chests of the soldiers and sheathed them as well. He then walked into the bar and walked over to the bartender “Please sir, j-just take my money and leave.” the bartender said frightened

Kazeharu took out a bill, “I’d like one bottle of sake.” he said as he placed the bill on the counter. The bartender, confused and frightened, gave him a large bottle. “Thank you.” the samurai said as he left the bar. When he walked outside however, he sees a large group of easily 25 soldiers staring him down. 

“You wanna explain?” the man who was obviously the captain said as he unsheathed his blade, followed by the other 24 soldiers. 

Kazeharu sighed as he looked at the army, he took a deep breath as he got ready to do what he had to do. … He ran away at top speed.

Diggerton:Red-haired, young but all powerful super wizard yet also surprisingly naive... and bratty.
Name: Hazel Daphiat

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Appearance: Hazel is a youthful girl with soft white skin, framed by a cascade of long straight light red hair that reaches down to the small of her back. She has a small frame, which is exaggerated by her small stature, as she stand at a meager 4'8". Hazel has a heart-shaped face adorned with deep green eyes. Despite her comparatively small stature she carries an air of confidence, walking with a surefooted gait that seems to exude some deep power hidden in her small body, oft earning the attention of those around her. Even though you might think she would slip by unnoticed due to her size it seems that she is often noticed simply due to this odd aura she has. However her cute appearance and seemingly commanding air hides the truth of her...

Kingdom: Sky Kingdom

Persona: Hazel is a terrible person. She has been described as stubborn, brash, overconfident, presumptuous, mean, egotistical, hot-headed, wrathful, and vain. Her defining feature is her cocksureness: As far as she is concerned she has no equal in the fields of spellcraft, beauty, and charm. She thinks herself absolutely witty and charming even if this is entirely untrue. She is often rude to strangers, and feels a sense of superiority over her peers. She is wrathful and petty and never gives up on a grudge. She has an amazingly short fuse and is very readily angry, having absolutely no control over her emotions, going from seemingly happy to angry in the span of seconds. This has all been fed by the fact that she is indeed very powerful and pretty, and the fact that she is a hormonal teenager who happens to be one of the most powerful mages to be produced by the Sky Kingdom. 

She does, however, have a few redeeming traits. She is very studious and determined. She did not just gain her power from natural ability, but also years of research and training. She is also a loyal friend, despite what some may think. She currently has none, so if she were to happen upon people that she can call 'friend' she would fight for and protect them fiercely. 

However Hazel wears this persona like a mask. In reality her outward attitude is her overcompensating to hide her real feelings. Her overwhelming overconfidence hides the deep sadness she feels due to her past. She has convinced herself that she is above others so she doesn't feel the toll of not having a person to truly call her friend. Her overwhelming anger and wrath is a vent, a way to release the hatred she feels towards the world. In truth Hazel is just a lonely girl that wishes someone would love her, because she has found no love from family or friends.

Post Example: The world turned red. Hazel knew this feeling. It was pain. Excruciating and overwhelming. But it was not physical pain. Instead it came from deep inside, and it exploded, lashing out, seeking any target possible for her wrath. It seemed that everything was distant. She wasn't her. She was not Hazel Daphiat. She was not scared, or lonely, or sad. She was all malice. It was pain, but it felt good, because she knew she had power. She knew they were afraid. She knew that they knew that she could destroy a block of buildings if they pushed her the wrong way. And the fear made her feel powerful.

In short, her anger was hot and vicious and she couldn't possibly more furious. She huffed aloud and turned her attention to the servant who was now begging for her forgiveness. "What do you think you are doing?! Are you trying to anger me?!" Hazel's small staff of servants were completely incompetent. Hazel was keep under close watch by the Sky Kingdom, but one of the perks afforded by her status as a mage with such great potential was that they took very good care of her, as her parents were unfortunately unable to fulfill the task, dead as they were. She was kept in a fancy estate that was more of a prison then a home, but she enjoyed a great degree of luxury. Knowing her fiery temper they thought it best to appease her, which worked most of the time, except when someone made a mistake.

The servant was still stammering apologies. Hazel look back down at her dress, now richer a small wine stain due to the server's incompetence. She turned around, seeking out the head of her household, the closest thing to a 'caretaker' the young girl, the head servant that seemed to be the only semi-competent person around. "Winston! I want him fired immediately!" He nodded. "Yes m'lady, I'll take care of it right away. The bumbling fool was escorted out. The room quickly emptied, and all that remained were a pair of guards. They're not my guards, they're my jailers. She knew it in the back of her head. All of this luxury she was given, all of the servants, dresses, expensive things, it was all to contain her. It worked, but a part of her knew what was happening. More than anything, she wanted a taste of freedom. 

She counted. It had been 10 years since she had spent a day in the world outside of her solitary prison. But the time would come soon. Soon, she would no longer be a captive, but would instead be given away as a military asset. It was a continent way for the Sky Kingdom to get rid of a very volatile problem.

Equipment: Hazel does not use sword, shields, hammers, bows, arrows, axes, maces, or any sort of martial weapon. She is above that. As for armor she also possesses none. Armor to her is a hindrance, and after all, why would one as powerful as her have need of barbaric protection like that? Magic and her natural talents are all Hazel thinks she needs.  

Ability/Magic/Technology: Hazel is a completely inept fighter, but instead has the gift of magic. Incredibly powerful magic. The flame of magic burns brightly within her, and she has studied for as long as she could read to expand her talent. She knows magic of all sorts, but has a propensity for destruction. Whether it be through a great conflagration, or a massive earthquake, or a large clap of thunder summoned down upon her opponent, or even a blast of sheer arcane energy, she can bend the power of nature to destroy and demolish. However her talents are not only limited to destruction, as she has studied a great many schools of magic: She is versed in the arts of healing, illusion, the power to strengthen and empower others, and to use her power to manipulate the world around her. While some focus on one magical field and learn every in and out of it, Hazel instead knows many magical skills but has not become a true master in any.
A giant who fights with pure brute strength, Basir gives his allegiance to noone but the coin.
Basir

The Bold, The Bloody, The Proud, The Berserker, The Undying, The Mountain, Of Many Bellies, Father of Bears

Basir is a pure beast, defined by his massive stature. He towers over most, standing at a freakishly tall 8'1". His body is well defined, all thick muscle bulging with veins, known throughout the land for his imposing presence in any battle. He can be seen tearing men apart from quite a distance, standing well apart from his smaller comrades. He has a wild and ragged appearance, not seeming to spend much time grooming himself. His blonde hair falls across his head haphazardly, and tumbles down to his shoulders complemented by the shaggy beard that hugs to his chin. His armor is light, and anything but simple. All fine supple leather, with spikes sprouting wildly from the pauldrons and accents of stark white fur adorning each piece.

Age: 37

Gender: Male

Kingdom: Basir the Proud bows to none.

Persona: Boisterous, loud, rambunctious, flippant, reckless, crazy. All are very choice words to describe Basir. He lives on the battlefield, born to fight and kill, and when not there he can often be found in the taverns. He derives all self-worth from his ability to kill and truly revels in the a good fight. He is easily bored with more conventional entertainments, the obvious exception being drinking. It is said that Basir of Many Bellies can outdrink any man in Astrea. He is a rebel to the kingdoms, refusing to serve any one king, instead offering his sword to whoever can promise a good payment and a good fight. He is known for treating battle like a game, much to the scorn of his fellow fighters, bellowing merrily in the middle of a bloody rout, or counting his kills in a slaughter. It seems that he is merry and joyous in all places... especially, of course, in taverns. He, however, is not so joyous when challenged or questioned. He is stubborn to a fault, and refuses to let others tell him what to do, or even go so far as to disagree with him. He is, of course, never afraid to fight any of these challengers, as long as the fight is to the death.

Basir does, surprisingly enough, have a few good traits. He is loyal to those that would undertake the monstrous challenge of being his friend. He may be ready to leave the mundane soldiers he fights with behind, but never someone who he considers a true friend. Beyond his friends he is also generous to those he respects. To earn the respect of Basir the Bloody is a great thing, and he treats the few who hold his respect with honor. He does not believe in an unfair fight, and will always meet his foes head on and on even ground. Indeed, Basir the Bold has a rather complex and perhaps impractical code of honor, but one that he follows stringently.

Post Example:Kill them all. Basir could feel the blood of the man he had just murdered wash over him. Oathbreaker called for more. The first man was now cleaved perfectly into two, lying dead on the ground, but there were many more. He counted- at least, he had tried to. There were at least one hundred. They were all petty bandits, convinced they would get a big payday when they heard word that Basir the Bloody would pass by their lonely road. But he would not abide an ambush- this would be a bloodbath. He heard word that there was a great troupe of these vermin on this road, and not only walked into the 'trap', but announced to his would-be attackers that he was coming for them. When he came upon the desolate clearing where they would come, he called out, "Any man who values their life will run from this place! The rest of you lot, if you think you can kill me, do try!" They swooped down from their hiding place in the trees, but it was clear some were wary. The first man was the only that made the initial charge, clearly some sort of leader or lieutenant, larger than most, but still dwarfed by Basir.

He died quickly. Some then broke rank, but the majority decided to try their luck. They would not come at him one at a time like fools, but instead try to wash over him from all sides, just the way Basir had wanted. He would not abide a fight that was too easy. As the first wave hit him he swept his sword wide across. The bandits made a mistake- their charge might overwhelm him, but their fighters had no room to retreat from his blow. He cut down several of them. The rest reconsidered their attack, halting their advance and taking some steps back. Basir did not abide their retreat. He charged into the group that lay before him, Oathbreaker overhead. He sliced across, cutting down man after man. He took a cut here or there- actually, quite a few, but none of them were particularly fatal, and they were taken care of by Oathbreaker. As he cut down man after man the group became wary, and fewer came forward to face him. They stepped back, giving him a small circle to breath in. 

They didn't step far back enough. Basir grabbed at the head of one of the men before him, yanking him by his shaggy hair towards him. He held the man up, and made a show of wrapping a beefy hand around the man's face. None of his comrades dared step forward. Basir squeezed.

The explosion of gore satisfied Basir. 

He cast aside the mutilated corpse. He himself was now covered in blood. It was magnificent. The rest of the bandits cringed back. They cried out, "This man is a damned monster!" One said. "There's no killing him! The rumors are true" Another shouter. "Retreat! We must retreat!" Basir already gave them their chance to run. They began to break ranks, making for the relative safety of the forest. He chased them down, cutting down as many of the runners as possible. When all was said and done a wonderful scene of gore and violence was left behind. 

Basir left wordlessly, returning Oathbreaker to a sheath on his back.

Several Hours Later, A Night Beneath A Star Speckled Sky

By the time Basir settled and made camp the world had turned black. He slept soundlessly, even in the bleak and bloody forest. Even as the remnants of the bandits that had hounded him crept upon him. The whispers rang from the group, but not loud enough to wake Basir, "Are you sure this'll work?" One of them questioned. "The bastard is asleep, what's he going to do? We'll just walk up and poke him with our swords. He'll be none the wiser, and we'll get a big payout. I hear there are some big bounties for this guy- not to mention all the money he must be carrying." The leader was trying to reassure his followers. "Yeah, b-b-but, you saw what happened back there, we cut him a bunch, but he kept going- he didn't even feel it." The leader hissed him quiet, "No man can survive a stab at his heart."

When they came upon the lonely tent of Basir, Father of Bears, he was indeed none the wiser to their attack. The leader reveled in his success. With this kill he'd make it big- he wouldn't need to worry about money anymore with the bounties he'd receive. As he stabbed Basir with the tip of his sword, directly through the heart, he watched the giant man's lifeblood spill out over the canvas of his tent. His thoughts went to his new life. A modest mansion in the capitol, a beautiful wife, maybe even some bratty kids, no more skulking the barren roads of a lonely forest. A smile covered his face, the men standing behind him laughing, now reassured.

A terrifying shriek sounded through the great forest when Basir the Undying opened his eyes. Now Basir wore the smile.

Equipment:

Oathbreaker is Basir's greatest weapon, and what he owes most of his strength to- besides his natural size, of course. Oathbreaker is a massive greatsword which is so heavy none besides Basir can even lift it. He seems to swing the weapon with ease despite its great weight- some have theorized that this may be due to some sort of magic enchantment, but Basir insists it is only because of his great strength. The weapon has a deep history, and several special abilities which it has bestowed upon Basir. 

Ability/Magic/Technology: Basir has a great natural strength, which has been amplified by the power of Oathbreaker. He has the strength to lift excess of one ton with great strain due to the weapon's affect on him. Additionally the weapon has the power to cease his perception of pain, although this can be detrimental, as fatal wounds can go unnoticed. To somewhat counteract this his weapon has the power to heal wounds that may kill him, but this has a limited effect. In one day he may only be able to survive three fatal wounds, and that is stretching the weapons power when healing other smaller wounds. When it comes to swordsmanship Basir is surprisingly quick for his size, able to match swords with some of the great duelists of the Golden Era, but his style relies more on his brute strength overcoming his foes than skill. As mentioned he is actually very quick, and has a deep pool of stamina. Rumor holds that he once outran a horse in an endurance race, although this tale may have been embellished by Basir himself.

SwarthyBard126: Black-haired, long-bearded, prim, proper, occasional numbskull and a powerful glaive-wielder.
Name: Solomon Ambrosius
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Appearance: 6'2", With tawny skin and well muscled. He has a moderately large, silky beard that reaches his chest. HIs hair is black and reaches past his shoulder blades, and he generally wears it either loose, in a pony tail, or a high bun.

Kingdom: Earth Kingdom
Persona: Serious and honorable, Solomon is a the near-epitome of a knight. however, he is also very blunt and a bit tactless, and lies through omission. However he is also kind and gentle when he needs to be.

Post Example: 
	Solomon Ambrosius was a solemn man, saying little and smiling less. But as he watched the children frolicking in the grain fields in his village's communal farming plot, he could not help but smile sadly at the sight. The children were refugees from the outskirts of the Earth Kingdom, and their parents had died shortly after they had arrived. His family had been appointed the marquess of the border region, and had faithfully guarded it from incursions from raiders, and more recently, Water and Air kingdom invaders. The children had been adopted by some of the family's household staff, and were adjusting to their new life. The pitiful groan at his feet returned his attention to the matter that was before him. The reason why the children were orphans laid at his feet. 
	The family had hired a guide to take them to the Ambrosius' manor, but on the road were confronted by bandits, and he fled the family. Solomon had been patrolling with some of his soldiers when they had come upon the man, fleeing on his horse. Apprehending him, the soldiers forced his story out. When the man was finished with his tale, Solomon ordered him arrested, and taking 5 of his group of 10, swiftly rode to the scene. The bandits were toying with the children, having already killed the parents, when Solomon and his contingent burst through the brush. Seeing the cruelty before him, he smote three of the 15 bandits in one blow, caving their chests with the force of his blade. It was not a battle, not even a skirmish, lasting shorter than 5 minutes as Solomon butchered the bandits in rage. Eventually 5 of the bandits, who had just moved into the area, surrendered and when Solomon returned to the manor, he had them hanged. 
	Now the head of his blade, an ancestral glaive given to his ancestor by a Sky Kingdom knight, rested above the treacherous guide's neck, not breaking skin. "By your cowardice and dishonor a grave crime has happened. You who carries the horn of the Guide's Guild, who faltered in your duty, who did not sound your horn to alert the manor to your plight, prostrate yourself before my feet to receive your just due." Solomon declared, as he raised the glaive above his head, "You have failed your duty, and in turn made me fail mine. To the Shadowy Isles I dismiss you from this life." The kneeling man, feeling his end nigh, attempted to escape his restraints and let a pitiful cry as the blade seperated his body form his head. "Burn in hell, dishonorable scum," Solomon sneered at the beheaded corpse, "and return not to plague me any further."

Equipment: 
-Enchanted Glaive/Guandao called Emerald Wyvern (See above pic): An enchanted weapon that raises the users physical capabilities to superhuman levels. It also enchanted to never break, never rust, and never dull. (50 lbs)

-Enchanted Armor: His Ancestral suit of armor that can blocking any piercing attack, and reduce blunt force to the covered areas. see pic below

Ability/Magic/Technology:
Almost unnaturally skilled with the glaive, Solomon has few tricks up his sleeves. while strong enough to wield the heavy glaive skillfully in one hand, the glaive makes him even stronger and faster. His family, the Ambrosius name which is derived from the old Earth Kingdom tongue for immortal, is well known for their healing magic, for both themselves and their allies. Other than this, Solomon has no other abilities.

Eleventhfret:Black-haired, dark, brooding, mysterious, occasionally dicky, dual-wielding teleporting protagonist.
Name: Harley "Black Devil" Hapkins.

Age:17

Height: 66 inches.

Weight: 147 lbs.

Appearance: He is in his late teens. His youth evident in his flawless bronze skin, giving him the look of an immaculate bronze idol. His eyes are a deep sapphire blue, bright and curious, framed by long, thick eyelashes that are almost feminine. His features are like that of an expertly made statue,  glowing and perfect. His black brows are arched and slender, shaped perfectly for his almond shaped eyes. His nose is small with a slender bridge, under it resides a pair of full lips, a shade darker than the rest of his skin. His cheekbones are, however, the main attraction, sharp blade-like structures that dominate his face, giving him an aristocratic, almost commanding look. His body contains no fat, so, though he is slim, he is pure muscle.

Kingdom: Sky

Persona: Harley is mentally...unstable. To say the least.Having lost his mother and father to bandits then having been beaten bloody and sold into slavery by said bandits, his charming grins and sly winks are nothing but gates closing off the bruised being inside. Harley is confident, as he was put through rigorous training when enslaved, and more after escaping at the age of 13, though he is given to depression and anxiety at any given time, especially when facing a foe far stronger than himself is he given to self-doubt, however, when not in battle, or a heavy depression, he is a charming, kind and loyal friend.

Post Example:Crack! The whip burned on his sweaty back, however he knew if he showed pain, he'd be kicked, and if he showed pain then, he'd be kicked more until he was half dead, and be forced to continue bricking, as he called it. Making bricks, inspecting bricks, moving bricks, removing bricks, damned bricks. He couldn't use his powers, he was outmatched. He might escape someday, today wasn't it though. However, after three years of this, in one of his rhyming sessions(it's easier to work when you're distracted by rhyming), a red mist started forming around him, and a demoness appeared before him, she eyed the boy carefully and said: "Hmm, usually don't see such young buyers, well I'm not here to judge, just sell." Harley stared rudely at her..ears, not noticing that everyone around him was frozen in time remarked: "Buying? I don't have any money, and I didn't ask for anything, who are you? Are you a real demon?" The boy's rambling slowly quieted as she silenced him with a glare. She then said: "Enough, the purchase is made, I'll be taking your joy now. Farewell." She blew him a kiss and the haze slowly dissipated along with the demoness and time returned to the area. Harley looked down at his hands and noticed two, very elaborate, very sharp, very magical looking sabres in his hands, rather, melded to his hands, and he noticed several guards approaching, "Now or never." said he, and within moments he'd dispatched the guards, then things went black. That was four years ago, now with the stories that he'd heard, he knew he'd have to do something, someone of his caliber couldn't sit around while this happened, so he prepared himself for the oncoming adventure.(Yeah, this sucks, didn't use proper story structure, but I tried to make it at least good enough so that it doesn't give everyone cancer.

Gear: He carries two sabres enchanted by a demon to give the user incredible acrobatic prowess, strength and reaction time. Once wielded, however, he must take a single life before he can unwield them.  And after prolonged use(more than 30 mins) they will begin to make him violently enraged until unwielded.

Magic/Abilities/Technique: Harley has the ability to teleport within a small radius, and to, when high on adrenaline, focus so that his reaction time and perception is triple that of a normal human for brief bursts.(pretty much a spider sense type deal, or Sharingan, whatever makes more sense to yourself).

Along with his sabres, his natural affinity for magic makes Harley a, powerful hand-to-hand combatant, able to focus energy into attacks, he can throw a punch or kick that would send a normal man flying, and break some bones. He can also use the same technique to jump incredibly high.

The Dark Templar:Hidden-haired, assassin creed-esque coolness and weapons, silent and stoic, he does what he has to do.
Ashaad "The Sand Stalker"

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Persona: A man who lets his actions speak for him, Ashaad speaks very little and when he does it's for good reason. He prefers to work alone, an attitude the result of a sad past which he refuses to bring up. His solitary lifestyle has made him somewhat unable to empathize with others which causes him to come off as cold or cynical despite his true nature which is to free the oppressed from whatever torments them.

Kingdom: Ashaad hails from the desert region of the Earth Kingdom, a city called Qatar-Shan. However he does not call it home since he has not been there for quite some time. Instead he wanders the desert, wandering from one settlement to the next.

Equipment:

Abilities: Thanks to his upbringing Ashaad is quite proficient in maneuvering through cities. Either by rooftop or dashing through alleyways and crowded streets he is able to get to his destination in the fastest time possible. That combined with his ability to hide himself extremely well makes him a dangerous individual to be hunted by.

Post Example:
The sun was at its peak as Ashaad rose over the sand dune. Overlooking the small oasis village it was clear the sand raiders were still occupying the settlement. "It appears I've arrived just in time. The raiders seem to no longer enjoy the villagers' company", he thought as he lay prone in the sand. The villagers were being rounded up and the few that remained from the first attack were lined up to be executed. Ashaad had received word of this and had traveled there to lend aid...unfortunately for these people he was too late. 

"On your knees!", the raider leader, Natarn, barked at his captives as they nervously stumbled into the village square. Awaiting them were twelve raiders with swords in hand readying themselves for a slaughter. "Kill the men first, the women will entertain us till their time comes", Natarn ordered with a sneer on his face as his men laughed menacingly for their commander. The first of the condemned were put to kneel in a row in front of their executioners, Natarn gave the order but before the first blade fell one of he raiders collapsed to the ground with a crimson mist sprinkling over his victim. The others stared for a moment in confusion as one of their own lay dead with a daggger planted in the back of his throat. They did not stay in such a state as one of them turned to their rear and pointed out a figure standing atop one of the sandstone homes. "Kill The bastard!", Natarn ordered and with some hesitation his raiders charged towards the home. 

Ashaad stood deathly still as the men approached, he moved only when they were dirently below him in front of the house. In one swift movement he shot his arm forward and a rope dart flew from his grasp. It landed in the throat of a raider who was unfortunate enough to stare upwards at his opponent. Ashaad attached the rope dart to a hook and leaped from the building, acting as a counter weight Assay hung the now dead raider from his throat upon the wall of the building. He now stood between the raiders and the villagers, just as he intended but now he had to take into effect the possibility that one could circle around and try to hold one of them by knifepoint. The now eleven raiders glanced at another dead comrade for a moment before once again charging the nomad. 

When the sands settled twelve sand raiders lay dead on the ground with te leader bleeding amongst his men. Natarn tried desperately to crawl away towards a nearby sword but before he could grip it a foot came down upon the hilt. Next came a kick which flipped him on his back, there the man experienced his final moments as Ashaad would hear his last words. "Damn you, demon! I curse the whore who birthed you!", Natarn howled as blood flowed from th corners of his mouth. Ashaad unsheathed his dagger and held it against Natarn's throat. "Wait! Mercy! I beg you, mercy!", the raider pleaded with eyes full of fear. Ashaad lowered the bottom half of his balaclava to reveal a face cursed with a grisly scar upon his right cheek. Natarn stared silently in fear as Ashaad moved his lips to speak, "So quick to hurl insults, but when faced with death you plead for mercy"

"Wait! No I'm sor-!", before Natarn could finish the dagger sliced open his throat allowing blood to spray onto Ashaad's face. The nomad stood to face the now free villagers who approached cautiously as Ashaad wiped the lood from his face. One of them, the village elder, spoke first, "Thank you, we owe you our lives but we have very little money to give yo-"

"Did I ask for money? You have horses. I need only one"

"O-Of course! Reema, bring our best horse! Quickly!", almost immediately a young girl ran off and soon returned with a strong obsidian black horse that obediently trotted over to his new owner with grace that made it appear to glide oher the sands. Once again the village elder spoke, "This one is named Tala, she will serve loyaly. Wherever you go, she will find you". Ashaad bowed his head in thanks before mounting his horse and riding away, as he departed from the waving and cheering villagers a single thought entered his mind, "Where to next?"
Raven-haired, charming who only follows her own pace, our lovely split personality necromancer.
Nilara Varentia"The Necromancer"

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Kingdom:

Persona: To explain what kind of person Nilara is you have to explain both aspects of her. The real Nilara is a suave, reckless, and carefree individual who lives for danger and fortune. That's her normal side. The other side of her is more complex. Nilara is possessed, her body is home to a desire demon named "Saria". Whenever Nilara nears a place of magic such as ritual sites, shrines, or magical artifacts the barrier between her mind and Saria's weakens. This allows for Saria to influence Nilara's personality making her less of the dashing rogue that she is and more of a sinister conspirator. She becomes more serious and less empathetic. In the past, Saria's influence has caused Nilara to be responsible for the death of former allies. There are times when Nilara can be nowhere near any source of magic and yet Saria can still interact with her. 

Post Example:
[color=39b5a]"Just another day in my fucked up life!"[/color], Nilara thought to herself as she fled the city guards. Apparently there was a bounty put on her in Qatar-Shan. Thankfully she arrived after The Sand Stalker did so she didnt have to worry about him hunting her. Vaulting over market stalls and weaving through crowds she evaded the guards until she arrived in a plazza. There she sat at a bench with her hood over her head as she waited for the guards to give up the search. "Sometimes it's just too easy. I wonder how the rest of the gang fared? Everything went to shit after we arrived at the hideout", her thoughts were interrupted as she noticed the entire plazza crowd was leaving the area. "Time to go", she got up to leave but quickly saw the civilians were being searched on their way out from the plazza. "Dammit...maybe one of these buildings", she moved over to the nearest door but found it was locked. That's when it hit her, the guards who chased her stayed a constant distance from her the entire chase. This search was too well organized and done to quickly to be by chance. This was a trap. From the time they entered the city every move was planned out. 

The courtyard cleared out leaving Nilara at its center. The guards immediately rushed to surround her and for a moment Nilara thought about using her magic but decided against it when she saw the archers on the roof. "Its over" she thought as she raised her hands and the guards moved in to subdue her. 

Later that night Nilara sat in the dungeons of Qatar-Shan, chained to the wall by her neck like an animal. Her hands were put in iron gloves and her mouth was gagged to prevent her from casting spells. "Well this sucks...", she thought as she sat there awaiting her execution. Just then four guards entered her cell and stood above her, two of them with weapons drawn. "Your time has come, witch", one of the guards said as he removed her neck chain. Nilara was escorted to the gallows in the main plazza of the city. There she stood upon the gallows with the hanging rope around her neck. She was hoping for it to be done quickly but of course the city guard had to brag about catching "The Necromancer".

"Nilara Varentia, also known as 'The Necromancer', leader of 'The Cursed Ones' bandit group and exile of the Sky Kingdom, for the crimes of banditry, murder, kidnapping, smuggling of contraband, theft, arson, desecration of sacred sites, vandalism, an public nudity, you have been sentenced to hang by the neck until until death. May whatever god you have show mercy on you", the speaker finally finished his bragging and signaled for the hangman to pull the lever. In those final moments the only thing going through Nilara's head was, "When the hell was I publicly nude? Probably one night at the tavern, wouldn't be surprised, I've done worse while drunk". 

The hangman had his hand on the lever when a voice rang out over the silence of the crowd. "STOP!", cried the leader of a group of coalition soldiers. "Stop?", Nilara thought in confusion. "You cannot hang this woman! She has been conscripted into the service of the Earth Kingdom"

"What the hell for?!", she yelled in response. There was no way she was going to work as a city guard. 

"A coalition force has been formed to combat the increasing monster attacks. She is to join the coalition and repel the creatures", the coalition soldier stated to the city-guard captain. A spectator yelled out from the crowd, "That's horseshit!

"Yeah I agree with that guy, I'd rather be hanged than get torn apart by whatever demonspawn you send me after!"

"It was assumed this would not be enough to convince you so as extra motivation I have been told to tell you that you will be paid well for your service"

There was a silence which seemed unreal. Everyone stood there wondering if The Necromancer would live another day. Finally Nilara answered, "Why the hell not, get this damn rope off my neck!". The entire crowd screamed and booed in anger. A few tried to climb up to the gallows but we're kicked back down. "Lets go before they do the hangman's job", Nilara said as she backed away from the edge of the gallow platform. The guards repelled the crowd as they escorted her to the city walls. There they put her on a horse with her hands bound behind her. "So how am I supposed to ride? I'm good but not that good", she asked the coalition soldier but it was clear he did not like her. He simply replied, "If you fall off we'll put you back on"

...what a gentleman. Whatever let's be off then"

Equipment:
"Leech"

Magic:
Soul Drain- Her favorite spell as it can be used for more than killing. The Soul drain spell allows Nilara to sap the life energy of her opponent to revitalize herself. The spell does not kill the target unless she purposely drains them completely so it can be a great tool fo interrogation. If a target is drained to critical levels to the point they go unconscious they will awake after some time.
Equilibrium- Probably her least favorite spell, Equilibrium transfers whatever injures or damage Nilara takes and divides it equally between her and the target. It can go both ways meaning if an ally is seriously injured Nilara can repair them but at the cost of injuring herself. This means that if an ally has a broken leg Nilara can reduce it to a fracture but then that means her leg would also be fractured, she'd feel everything so this aspect of her spell is rarely used by her.
Ward- Since she does not wear armor Nilara relies on Ward spells for protection. Once cast it forms a shimmering green barrier that envelopes her body. If she is struck with a melee weapon she will not be injured but she will receive a bit of force which can push her back or send her flying depending on the force of the impact.
Glyph of Containment- By casting runes in a circle on the ground Nilara can creates a trap for the enemy. Anyone or anything that steps within the circle cannot leave it until either the spells wears off or they are magically resistant enough to break the barrier.
Corpse Summon- This spell is mostly used in the middle of a battle. Nilara can resurrect the bodies of the vanquished to serve as her undead thralls for a short time.
Conjure- When there are no corpses to resurrect Nilara conjures demons to aid her in battle. However she mostly conjures lesser demons as more powerful ones can be difficult to control and can be a hazard to herself and anyone around.
Weapon Enchant- Nilara's longsword "Leech" is special. It is capable of detecting whatever enchantment it's weilder desires and automatically drains magicka from them to enchant itself. Nilara can enchant the weapons of her allies but not in the way Leech does. She has to manually cast it on their weapons whereas Leech is automatic and almost instantaneous.

Against This:Black-haired, cynical, pessimistic, possess no social skills, our brilliant strategist with no sense of humor.
Age: 26

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Standing at an even 6 feet tall and weighing 165 pounds, Adrian is hardly one of the most imposing figures of the assembled warriors. In fact, the scowl that is all but engraved to his face and his ever skeptical eyes do not make for an endearing individual. 

True to his pragmatic nature, Adrian prefers to dress in rather simple attire while not on a mission, and in light leather armor while in combat. After all, with the monsters they are up against, what good is a little bit of metal going to do?

Kingdom: Water

Persona: Sardonic. Pessimistic. Blunt. Rude. All fine words when it comes to describing one of the forefront strategists that the Water kingdom has to offer. Adrian is perhaps the epitome of the no-nonsense brand of thinking and wastes little time involving himself in affairs he deems pointless. Saying that he is reserved would be a gross understatement, as every aspect about him is purposefully cold and uninviting.

And yet underneath the unbelievably rough exterior is a man with few redeeming qualities. He is rational and analytical even when under extreme pressure and has momentous stubbornness that is often mistaken for resolve. His humor is so dry that it dehumidifies the air around him, but all too often goes unappreciated. This comes with a very direct and often times too honest manner of speech that leaves little room for friends.

Say what you will about his lackluster personality, but none can deny that Adrian is true strategist in every sense of the word. Rather than rushing in, he will observe a situation and look for openings and weak spots. He is adept at coordinating the movements of others in efficient and effective ways. And above all else, Adrian does everything he can to make sure his side always comes out on top.

It was raining. That simple fact alone did not bother the captain, but patrolling into pirates on such a night was downright offensive. Sure, sure, there was definitely a tactical advantage to attacking in such conditions, Adrian of all people knew that, but it was still all too cliché for him. 

The nimble cruiser came to eerily quiet halt as Adrian readied his bow. “One longboat, fifteen men,” he announced to his own band of twenty. “Skips, Leech, try not to kill each other and hold the ship. The rest with me.” 

The smoke, which was what drew Adrian and his men in the first place, was densest in the center of the village. Naturally, this practically screamed, “Look at me! I’m an ambush,” to him, so with a quick hand motion his men fanned out to secure the perimeter. Once alone, Adrian walked with all of the eagerness of a beached whale towards the center, seeing evidence of a great struggle but little else.

“I know you’re out there,” the captain called out, boredom dripping from his voice. “And you imbeciles know that you are surrounded, so let’s just get this nonsense over with.” With Gungnir slung across his shoulders, Adrian tilted his head to the side, as if readying himself to hear their response.

“You do bloody well to shove that there sticker up yer arse!” came the inevitable, and all too guttural, response. “And if dose men of yers comes any closer, we may just have ta’ kill our hostages!” For added affect, the pirate brandished a sword against the neck of a young villager.

A bored sigh was all that came out of spearman. “You idiot,” he muttered to nobody in particular, “You lot were already dead the moment you spoke.” With a lazy flick of his wrist, one of the throwing knives he literally kept up his sleeve was on its way to end the poor sod’s life. And as the knife found itself imbedded in the man’s throat, a controlled chaos broke out as his men that had just finished getting into position descended upon the rest.

Everything had gone according to plan.

--

“There are a few casualties, but it looks like most of the villagers are going to get through this alive sir,” one of his subordinates informed Adrian as he was retrieving his knife from what he recently found out was the pirate leader.

“Well doesn’t that just make us big damn heroes?” the sardonic man remarked.

“If you don’t mind me saying sir, you sure are a tough man to love,” the brave little private retorted.

“Carry on private,” Adrian said, with the smallest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Equipment:

A rather simple and pertinent back up weapon should he need them. Adrian generally keeps five on hand at any given time, with three on his hip and one up each of his sleeves. And although he is not the most magically inclined individual, he is able to imbue them with some basic spells given enough preparation time.

A bow that Adrian personally finds ridiculous looking, but has been assured by experts time and again that it is one of the pinnacles of modern technology. Although it is comprised of many parts, the bow itself is surprisingly sturdy and is quite capable of taking a number of hits before becoming unusable. And yet at the same time, it is also relatively light, weighing only slightly more than your average bow. Adrian didn't pay much mind to the scientific jargon he was given, because the bottom line was that this bow would make hitting his targets easier and make his arrows hit with much more force.

Ability/Magic/Technology: A tactical mind is what got Adrian lumped into the forty-two warriors assembled, not necessarily his physical prowess. That’s not to say he’s a slouch with that fancy looking bow of his, but it should be still be noted that he’s no super human.

As is common for most denizens of the Water Kingdom, manipulating the element that surrounds his home comes to Adrian naturally, with a particular affinity for converting it into ice being one of his few strong suits. Most would call that fitting. Adrian calls it predictable. Other than that, Adrian specializes in the the creation of barriers, as it can play a large role in dictating the flow of battles.

Shikaru:Gray-haired, grey-eyed and heavily-clad in cloth, Silverine is a rare spirit mage.
Name: "Spirit" Silverine Arc

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Appearance: Appearance:  6'3, change that out for grey hair and grey glowing eyes.

Kingdom: Sky Kingdom

Persona: Extremely distant, usually doesn't speak unless spoken to or if it is important. Rarely shows much sign of emotion to keep his powers in check.

Post Example: The creature fell, a gash opening on Spirits' chest, "Soul Mend." He quietly spoke to himself, healing his chest. He was absolutely exhausted from his training to join the Jaegar division. He'd hoped he would be good enough to pass, if not all his effort and nearly getting killed multiple times would be for nothing. He sighed and walked towards where the camp was located, slowly regaining his life force. He'd nearly pushed himself to far, had he used anymore of his magic he could have died.

No time to think about that now, he'd survived, after all.

Equipment: Outside of his clothes or magically manifested gear, he has a small magic imbued short sword damage dependant on his magic amount

Ability/Magic/Technology: Spirit controls the element of 'spirit' a rare trait amongst mages. He can take away fragments of your life source, give some of his own, stop actions, etc. Most notably is his ability to cause horrible ailments on his foes, though doing so takes away a portion of his life force and thus is generally not used that often. Amongst the ailments he can infect you with poison, cause you to contract a deadly disease, or simply just cause amnesia. He can also siphon bits of magical energy from his foes, should they have it, as well as silence them for 30 second intervals.

Although, Silencing them comes at a price, and a very heavy one at that. During the time they are silenced, he to is unable to use the majority of his magics, especially the most potent ones.

To specifically name a few of his abilities would be as follows:

Mind Spike: This allows him to cause both physical and mental damage, whilst siphoning a portion of their magical energy for himself. Casting this causes a random wound to open on himself, the strength of the cast dictates the strength of the wound.

Soul Mend: This allows him to heal himself or others, at the expense of only being able to cast it ever so often and physical fatigue.

Negate: This allows him to stop one of his opponents actions, say they are casting a deadly spell, he would be able to stop them at the last second. While they are able to restart the spell over again, this is mostly used to buy some time. It cannot be used very often, and requires him to generally be still or at a walking pace.

Silence: As described, this allows him to silence whomever he targets for 30 seconds while removing his ability to do the majority of his magic.

Ethereal Jaunt: This is basically his get gone while the gettin' is good card. In exchange for a vast amount of his energy, he turns into a ethereal form unable to be harmed or do harm for a few minutes, allowing him to pass through walls and escape into safety. This is generally only to be used as an escape method, as it offers him no benefits other than that.

Spiritual Gear: Casting this a set of glowing, white, holy armor appears on him along with a falchion blade with runic writing down it and a small buckler shield. The initial casting expends a moderate amount of energy, while it is active it continues to expend small amounts of energy until he 'returns' it.

Song of the Heavens: Once cast a melodious tune echoes around anyone he deems as an ally, healing them for a very minor amount in both the physical and mental sense. Casting this expends a moderate amount of energy.

Empower: Casting this buffs the targets strength greatly for a short while at the expense of a moderate-high amount of magical energy. He often casts this on himself along with his spiritual gear.

Light Arrows: One of his main offensive skills, he fires a volley of in-accurate arrows from a bow made of a spiritual essence, his own. Should one of these arrows hit, the opponent takes a decent amount of damage and are more susceptible to his other spells.

Soul Seer: Casting this allows him to peer into his opponents mind in an effort to see what they plan on doing within the next 10 minutes. Whilst casting this he is entirely vulnerable for a few minutes as he must stand still in order for him to focus.

Crimson Raven:Brown-haired, tall and muscular, Kelsier is not only a skilled swordsman but a manipulator of time.
Name: Kelsier
Age: Unknown
Gender: Male
Appearance: Kelsier is very tall at 6'9" and change. He very muscular and weighs 250 pounds without his armor. His eyes change color depending on the light, from a light gray to a black with a red tint.

Kingdom: He holds no allegence to crown or god.

Persona: Kelsier is calm and cool, even under pressure. He has a decent sence of humor and doesn't mind jokes directed at him. His loyalty is unqustionable, if you are able to win it. He has a code of honor known only to him, though he will set it aside for a comrade. He is very intelligent and those that underestimate him are in for a world of hurt. He is easygoing until it becomes time to fight, then his personality shifts and he becomes emotionless, focused, and quiet. His manners often seem 'old-fashioned' and he is extramely chivalrous, however he sees no problem with women fighting. He pays attention to small details and he is very thorough, and while he is hesitent to commit himself, but once he does, he sees it through to the end never giving his second best. He is facinated by guns and technology, almost as if he has never seen them before...

Kelsier loved watching the sunset. It reminded him of days gone by and somthing else he couldn't remember, a flash of a green eye, the smell of strawberries and sunshine. He sat, watching the sun sink and the twilight grow until it was fully dark. Having no need for rest or food, he got up and resumed traveling. He walked for quite a long time, able to see by the light of the full moon overhead, untill he came upon another traveler camping by a fire. Kelsier stepped into the ring of light from the fire and made his assesment of the man quickly, short and broad with the build that only comes from hours of hard physical labor. About thirty years old, still in his prime with a sword in a sheath next to him. Kelsier pegged him as a farmer turned mercanary. The man looked up and saw Kelsier's tall dark figure. The man grinned and said, "Well, its not every day you see a fellow travler. Come, boy, sit warm yourself by the fire. Although," the man cautioned, "If you mean ill, I am armed and I know how to fight. "I mean you no harm, sir." Kelsier answered "I am, as you said, a fellow travler." "Good, good have some food, I have plenty." the man said. Kelsier thanked him, sat down and started eating. As he ate the man introduced himself as Pel and Kelsier introduced himself. Then Pel asked, "So, why is an obviously strong warrior like you in a gods forsaken place like this?" Kelsier paused, and looked up saying "It is polite for the host to tell about himself first." Pel let loose a hearty chuckle. "Got it in one, you did. Very well." Pel told Kelsier about how he was traveling from the capitol of the Earth Kingdom back his farm on the edge of the Water Kingdom with his profits from his time as a mercanary. Kelsier pointed out that traveling alone in these times was very dangerous to which Pel replied with a laugh and a grin, "Then why are you traveling alone?" Kelsier didn't reply. 
	When he was finished, Pel brought out a canteen of whiskey, "All that talking makes a throat dry, want some?" "No thanks." Kelsier replied. Pel shrugged and said "Suit your self." He took a swig, "Ahhh now that feel good. I've told you, its your turn now." "I am just a wanderer," Kelsier said "looking for my past, and trying to find a future." Pel glanced at him "Is that it?" "Yes, that is all." Pel shrugged again and said, "You're welcome to share my camp until mourning." "Thank you." Pel crawled into his tent and soon went to sleep. Kelsier remaned by the campfire until it started to die, then without a word he got up and continued on his journey.

Equipment: His sword, Silver is capable of charging its blade with one of three elements, fire, ice, and electricity. (This is the sword's power, not his own.) His armor, Shadowlight is a powerful suit of armor that he can summon and dismiss at will, it isn't ordanary armor, a portion of his soul is bound in it. It is nearly indestructable, yet is quite light and alows for decent mobility. He also is wearing a a gold ring set with a large diamond that has a symbol carved into its facet.

Ability/Magic/Technology: When he fights he prefers to be up and personal. He is a skilled swordsman. He  tires less quickly than normal. For reasons he does not explain he does not need to eat, drink, or sleep.

His magic specalty is temporal magic, which is very complicated and he is still trying to understand and master it. Most of his magic, he uses to enhance his physical combat.

Equip: He summons his armor on himself.

Telekentic Slash: This alows him to cut something from far away.The amount of energy this takes is proportional to the distace. Kelsier likes to use it to catch an opponent off guard.

Time bubble: He can create a bubble of changed time, once the bubble is up, it cannot move and one it goes down, it takes thirty seconds before he can put up another. The size and duration depends on the type. He has two types of bubbles: quicktime, which compresses time in a five foot range he can make a couple of seconds last a minute. From inside everything around it seems to move very slowly, this is moderatly draining. Slowtime is the oppisite it expands time making a second inside a minute outside. The size can go up to a small room and it doesn't take much energy.

Prescience: His most powerful ability. When activated he can see a few moments into the future. His mind is also enhanced to deal with all of the information. In combat this alows him to see what is about to happan and react to it. This ability burns through energy very quickly and he cannot use any other magic while it is active.

Haste: He speeds the rate of time on the target, making the target faster, not just physicaly but mentaly too.

Paradox: This skill rewinds time back up to a minute. It takes all the energy he has, so after using it he is completly exausted, but with it he can go back and change what just happend.
Miles is a cunning cowboy, a trickster of sorts that has peculiar quirks even among the heroes.
Name: Miles Murphy
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Appearance: Miles is about 5'10, 170 pounds. Dark hair and dark-eyed with a miscevious face and a strong chin. He is lean, and thin but has a solid frame and corded muscles.

Kingdom: Earth Kingdom

Persona: Miles is an eccetric man, with a great wit, who likes to make people laugh and cracks jokes and banters often. He has a perpetual grin and a  cocky aditude. He has a habit of 'trading' things without asking, taking random stuff and leaving behind things he thinks are equal in value. He also gives people nicknames, most of them insulting. He is a master of disguse and imitating voices and accents. He often is seen as a prideful, careless, and crude buffoon. However, he is very clever and a skilled manupulator. In a fight he is not above using underhanded tricks and unorthidox tactics; he does anything neccecery to survive.

Post Example: 

Miles crept slowly and quietly beside the ragged, rotting fence. He had his .22 held by his head with the silencer on. As he made his way beside the fence he found a hole wide enough that he could slip through. Bingo he thought. He slipped through it without a sound and moved toword the old, abandoned house. He saw a pair of sentries armed with spears trying to very hard not to be seen and failing. Raising his gun and steading his aim he went through his fammiliar ritual, he took a deep breath in, and let it out, sqeezing the trigger two times on the exhale. His gun barked quietly twice and both sentries made no noise as they went down in a heap. He moved on, making his way to his target. He slipped around the house, and almost ran strait into another sentry with a sword and a torch. Miles stopped in the shadows just short of him, his heart beating wildly. The sentry, oblivious continued on his rounds. Once the sentry turned his back, Miles snuck behind him and cut his throat, grabbing the torch, and sword, and confident stride, boldly walked up to the entrance to the basement. He threw open the doors and walked down the steps, emerging in a obviously enlarged cavern with five men playing a game of dice to his right. "Greeting!" Miles boomed "I bring you a very importaint message!" The men hesitated long enough for him to throw the sword at one, the torch at another, and draw Vindication. He dropped one with with a shot before any could draw their swords. One of them, a not very bright man, charged Miles directly. Miles jumped back to give himself more room and fired again killing the one that charged him. The remaining three, one with a cut and one with a burn tried to surround Miles and attack from all sides. But Miles put his back to a wall and steadly picked off each one with a pair of shots. Panting, he said to the corpses "Don't trust strangers." He reloaded without looking and checked his surroundings. Then he checked the corpses. He took a step further in and he heard the click-chick of a hammer being drawn back, quick as a flash he dived behind a pair of sturdy barrels, as a bullet slammed into the ground where he was just standing. He was pinned down and unable to move, I have no time for this! he thought. He threw himself out in a roll just in time to see his target, a short, broad heavly scarred man, run up the steps, with the torch, pause and throw it into a pile of dryed rope and wood. Then he ran out the doors and bolt it behind him. "Shit!" He spat. The fire caught and spead, smoke quickly filling the basment. He got up and ran to the door thinking quickly. He sent three shots through where he guessed the bar was. Then he took a step back and ran forword, sholder barging the weakend doors. With a crash the bar broke, the doors slammed open and he unceimonialy fell on his face. Wheesing and sucking up the cool night air. He could just barely see his target sprinting away. Wobbly he drew his gun, sighted on the center mass, and fired. The running figure jerked went down and didn't rise. As soon as Miles recovered his breath he went over to the limp figure. "Well I'll be damned." He breathed. His shot had hit the man right in the back of his head. The bounty on this man was massive and would pay for food for a month. Miles sighed, releaved and admiring his luck, "What I have to do for a living." He observed. Miles then grabbed and dragged the corpse away while the house burned behind him.

Equipment: 
Vindication: A custom-made eight-shot .44 revolver that can fire elemental ammunition. 
A small .22 revolver he keeps in one boot with a silencer for it in the other.
A Remington shotgun
A magic throwing knife called Kotetsu that always comes back to the thrower, sometimes point-first.
His large brown leather duster and his 'lucky hat.'

Ability/Magic/Technology: Miles is an excelant shot and he claims to never miss. (Although that is not entirely true.) He is also good at hand to hand combat especaly with a knife. He can throw a knife quite well too.

Bloodmaker: This is an abiltiy Miles inherited from his family. He can store health at the price of being unwell, and tap in to the store later to heal wounds. As long as he has an adequate storage of health, he can recover from any wounds that aren't immediately lethal, such as curing poison, regrowing fingers, and surviving bullet wounds. However, storing health takes a long time, he could feel sick all day and only have enough to heal a scratch.

Lucky: This is not a skill, but Miles seems to have an increadable amount of luck, many times this has been the only thing that saves his life.
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