calmgale

What Are You Listening To?

GUILDVENTURES [just look, jeez]

we have an ooc and a (superfluous) character thread.

copy/pasted from the bottom of the first post.

anyone interested should continue to be interested. just not here. unless they're new. then please be interested here.

jeez. i am SUCH a BROKEN record, sometimes. (and lazy.)

edit; added more to elise's history. woooo~?

GUILDVENTURES

The Silver Glint

Name: Elise "The Silver Glint" Ethra

Title: see above, but yours can totally go here!

Race: Beastkin {Cat}

Age: 26

Appearance: Snow white hair elegantly cascading over delicate features, Elise has always been pleasing to gaze upon. Though, her gaze, often, leaves others unsettled. Deepest azure peers from beneath those alabaster waves, bearing the slitted pupil and oblong eye-shape of her kind. Slender shoulders bear the weight of silver pauldrons, smooth and ever polished; bereft of any scratches or dents. Between the pauldrons, at her back, flows a grey, hooded cloak; clasped at the front, a white tabard covering modest breasts and a toned form. She is tall, among her kind, standing nearly at six feet tall; perhaps more if you included the rise of the feline ears perched atop her head...similarly porcelain in coloration to both her hair and skin.

Around her arms are wrapped grey silken gloves, though on her right arm she wears a light sleeve of plated armor. Her waist is wrapped in a skirt of chains, bound together by silver clasps; beneath which lies a pair of well-worn traveling pants, brown, burlap and loose, held in place by the same clasps that link her skirt. Elise's legs are clad in long boots with metal strips evenly spaced along them, beginning at the ankle and going upward to the cuff of the boot; which ends at her knee.

Personality: Elise is known to wear a sad smile, most of the time; the smallest upturning of her lips that does not quite belie the burden she carries behind her eyes. She is often polite, though can, from time to time, be aloof or brusque with those in her company (which, admittedly, she doesn't keep much of anymore). At times, she may came across as self-righteous and tends to be extremely stubborn when she sets her mind to something. However, Elise tends to attempt keep to herself and avoids speaking beyond what she feels she must. Ever determined, she has not stopped adventuring since the Heroes' victory over Dekruvitomen and has developed a habit of drifting from place to place; accepting contracts from the Keepers or simply assisting the locals with their problems as she is able.

It is said that she used to be quick to laugh and quick to anger, mercurial in all aspects of her life...leading some to believe that, somewhere along the way, the Silver Glint lost her luster.

Affiliation: Nine Heroes {Former}
Star-Crossed Company {Former}

Abilities: Runewielder, Genesis.

Elise has come to know well her Runes and utilize them to their fullest in combat. While most Genesis Runewielders tend to craft and create things from their Elemental Principle, Elise uses the Runes to augment herself (as well as her armor and rapier, from time to time) and increase her speed to nigh ludicrous levels; it is through this that she earned her title...along with her swordplay and flair for slaughter. Her Whisper is a simple word, over and over. "More" the Runes cry into her mind, bursting through and infiltrating her thoughts. More speed...more power...more blood.


History: It is unknown exactly when Elise's family left the Volanci heartlands and made their way into the small village of Oakheim. What is known, however, is that Elise was always seen with a blade in her hand; a blunted thing given to her by her father. An adventurer, himself, before a festering wound (inflicted by the foulest of Void Magic) took his left leg; 'reduced' (as he would say) to a simple blacksmith, though not one of incredible skill, he sought to shape his daughter into a true warrior...a valiant protector of the innocent, as he had been in his hayday. Little did the Titan of Meita know that he would succeed in a grand fashion. Without his guidance, it is impossible to tell what would have become of young Elise...without his knowledge of Runewielding and swordplay. With Theron (Elise's older brother) in Drasil, pursuing a life of mercenary work in the Star-Crossed Company and Emirra (Elise's mother) long deceased, Veiss (the Titan) doted on his daughter and pushed her every day to better herself...but also to better the lives of those around her.

At the age of thirteen she left home, at the behest of her father but spurred by her own eagerness to venture into the Drasilian heart...to Essia its self to find her brother and join the Star-Crossed Company. She rarely speaks of the few months it took her to traverse the Monster-ravaged countryside. It was only then that Elise began to understand why she had first picked up a blade. The Sundering was something rarely talked about in secluded Oakheim, where the local Mages took to creating wards against the Monsters and folk continued about their lives normally...albeit nervously. It is uncertain when she first saw a mortal die...or when she first killed a mortal, herself. Certain is the fact that she joined the Star-Crossed Company nearly one year after leaving home; though Theron had apparently already abandoned their group to head into the Dreamlands, seeking some Elven assassin that had made an attempt on his life mere days before her arrival.

In the employ of the Star-Crossed Company, Elise honed her skills against Monster and mortal alike...rising quickly in both Rank and prestige. This bit of renown did not earn her the title Silver Glint, but it did earn her the fight that would inevitably lead to the title being placed upon her head. Tempa, "the Firebrand", a fiery warrior of considerable skill and possessed of a deep passion for combat arrived at the Star-Crossed Company's Guild Hall as a herald of the Black Adder Guild; issuing a formal challenge from Cers. Tempa was to face a champion of Malik's (the leader of the Star-Crossed Company) choosing. Malik, impressed with Elise and eager to see Cers and the Black Adders bested on the field sent her forth without a second thought; accepting the duel and setting into motion events that would inevitably lead to the formation of the Nine Heroes.

As with all formal challenges, the duel was to take place in the Keeper's Amphitheater. With both Guilds gathered, the terms were set by Cers and Malik. There would be no duel to the death, but the losing faction would disband their Company and gain the others' champion. No hesitation met these terms, Malik and Cers both slavering at the idea of their rival's pride crushed before the gathered masses. The Keepers brought their Magic forth, ensuring that neither would suffer permanent injury; and the battle was joined.

Sparks and embers danced in the light of a setting sun, silver and flame meeting one another for the first time. Somewhere, in their duel...a friendship...a kinship formed. Their smiles were true and there was an unbridled joy in Elise's heart that drowned out the Whisper echoing through her mind. The woman before her was perhaps two years her elder and better suited to the warrior's life than she; a blur of orange and red that sought to slip through her silver slashing shield. Each blow was met with another, for what felt like hours; until the full moon blossomed overhead. Until that night, Elise had never faced her Shadow Self...and, perhaps, she would have succumbed to it...if not for Tempa's intervention.

Elise would not recall the spectacle, nor the surge of Monsters that followed in the wake. When she awoke, in Oakheim, sprawled in a familiar bed, The Silver Glint was the name now etched into her heart. Tempa informed her of this, after Veiss had assailed her with his affection and, to the disdain of the Titan and The Silver Glint, that the Star-Crossed Company had been declared disbanded. Balking at the notion of joining the Black Adders, Elise prepared herself for harsh life under Cers and his ilk. With a throaty laugh, Tempa dismissed the idea; explaining that she had no intention of letting someone like Elise join the Black Adder Guild...and that she had lost interest in the idea, herself, seeing riper opportunities in having The Silver Glint in her debt.

Yet, despite being nestled back in her home, in the company of her father and several familiar faces...Elise's heart was heavily restless. She had failed the Star-Crossed Company and, by way of her failure, caused one of the oldest Guilds in Drasil to be broken; its members cast to the wind, and simultaneously, though inadvertantly, in a way, spited the Black Adder himself (a man of great repute, for his cunning, combat prowess and lack of creativity). It did not sit well with her that she had been spirited from the Amphitheater, but, in truth, she felt a kinship with Tempa and much preferred her company over that of what she expected from the Black Adder.

The world outside of the small hamlet Elise had become so accustomed to was more warped during the time she had been rendered unconscious. Darkness now touched the land...almost palpable as it lingered and permeated all within Drasil. Mortals found themselves prone to indulging their dark thoughts and Shadow Selves became increasingly common. With the rise of the Shadow Selves came an abundance of murder and strife that the Divided Kingdoms had not witnessed in several centuries. Elise observed the change with horror, seemingly noticing it for the first time...and found hatred growing in her heart; a maliciousness born of righteous indignation, and swore upon that seeping stain on her soul that she would find a way to end it.

Time passed slowly, thoughts of the suffering world eating away at her. She was a swordswoman grown from strife, but the needling feelings that swirled within her demanded action; fear and determination rallied against what she feared to be an insurmountable foe. She knew that Eldra's Shadow had Sundered the Goddess of Compassion and Order nearly a decade ago; and plied his vile whims against the land she had once favored most. Yet, when had he ever shown himself to the mortals; aside from his grand, terrible invasion into the mortal world? Where was the Masked God hiding himself? What reason did he have to shy from the realm he, now, by all rights, claimed sovereignty over? Questions that gave her hope. Confiding in Tempa, she found solace...confiding in Veiss, she found an answer.

Her father was the first to utter the name in her presence. Though, she would later come to find that Kalayron had long been a figure of near mythical reputation amongst the Faithful of Eldra. Said to be her Avatar, the only one capable of truly drawing upon the power of the Goddess, he resided in a monastery hidden from the cruelty of the world; offering refuge to those who would still follow the Light that Eldra left behind. "The Protector", he was named...and it was he who would surely know how to combat the Dread Shadow. So it was that Elise had come to know of Asmosa, the original resting place of the Heartshard (before it was given to the Elves for protection, in years past, by the monks; fearing that Dekruvitomen would seek its destruction), and a holy place to the Faithful. Far to the north, in the scorched and shimmering expanses, where Monsters roamed in vast hordes and the land its self seemed to bend to the will of Darkness. Elise resolved, then, to seek out The Protector and his counsel. The Firebrand agreed eagerly to accompany her, lusting for an opportunity to pit herself against the most fearsome foe that the world had to offer.

When the two set forth from Oakheim, it is uncertain...some would say weeks, others mere days after Elise's vow to venture to Asmosa. And for some time it would go unnoticed that a Standing Stone (a relic left by the Beastkin, a simple stone...standing. s'pretty big.) in a secluded grove now bore two simple symbols etched into its smooth surface; an oath made in secret, a pact binding together two who would bind together nine. This Standing Stone would become the Stone of Nine, where each of the Nine Heroes engraved their symbol and swore their oath; once they had all been gathered. Tempa and Elise walked and fought, side by side, battling Monsters that would assail small hamlets...or deal with particularly fierce bandits on the roadside, help farmers replace their wagon wheels and all sorts of heroic (if sometimes seemingly excessively diminutive) minutiae, along their way to the vaunted monastery...to the Avatar of Eldra...to a solution.

Kalayron proved to be reserved about the two, glimpsing Tempa's sins and seeing the Darkness lingering within Elise. With some reluctance, and, according to some stories, after days of pleading from The Silver Glint, The Protector left his sanctuary with the two; erecting a barrier after his exit, allowing only those with benign intentions into the temple. He would draw the next of the Nine closer, proposing a plan to seek out a powerful True Mage taking refuge somewhere within Drasil. So, with nothing but a small lead, an increasingly close friend, and one of the most powerful priests in Kallore at her back, Elise set out for Essia.

The journey proved far less dangerous than expected, given their combined might; and within scant days they arrived at Essia's gates...only to find them aflame. While Essia had held firm against Monsters, the ire of Seralle was something far more than the Essian Guard could easily handle. Cast in the shadow of roaring, towering flames, slender lips let a smile pass over them; Seralle Of The Shadowed Countenance turned to the others and offered a humble bow, saying that she had been expecting to run into them. Pressed about the mounting flames at her back, Sera (as she preferred the diminutive, obviously...bc otherwise it's a mouthful) simply smiled and waved it away; stating that it was nothing more than a misunderstanding and that no one (aside from that poor gate) had or would be harmed by the flames. With a wave of her hand, she dispersed the blaze and laughed; offering her services to the group, for a nominal fee (though she never actually collected on her stated price...and what she actually stated is subject to speculation).

So smoothly had things progressed, that the inevitable snag (the first of many, actually) would finally be encountered.

No one knows what lies beneath the mirrored mask...even to this day, nor why he drew his blade against the gathered four. Yet he did, but not before the first of the Heroes had walked into a trap. Goldbrook was a village founded on the principle of mercantile; a bustling city in the midst of a river, suspended on wood and bound with ropes. It was here that a rumor had lead them, seeking an item (specifically a pendant) that was said to contain a Shard of Eldra that had been repurposed into a weapon...something capable of weakening Dekruvitomen, should he ever come into its radiance. They found the city silent, but not abandoned...countless bodies littered the streets; bloodless, but all prone, with no sign of a struggle. Elise and Tempa, helpless against whatever malady had been placed upon these people, stood watch as Kalayron and Sera began attempting all within their considerable power to awaken the slumbering (yes, really, they were all k.o'd).

He appeared from a distortion in the air, rays of the midday Sun glancing violently from his form in streaks of distorted light. His armor was strangely smooth, pulling in reflections from all around, though riddled with black fissures that distorted the images. His frame slight and sickly, to the estimation of those who beheld him. Though silent, the drawing of his blade (which, strangely, was not present when he appeared, but seemed to be pulled from the same distortion that still licked at the world around him) was challenge enough for those gathered. The Knight of Cracked Mirrors faced the four...and bested them. With a slight scoff, tossing his blade back into the ether, he finally spoke...in a voice that seemed almost alien, so absent was emotion or inflection in its tones. The Knight told them that there had never existed such a weapon...and that there never would. That the God of Chaos and Death would have to be slain by more difficult means. That they would have to Sunder him, as he had the Goddess. Before Elise could press the question of 'how?!', the Knight of Cracked Mirrors absconded; leaving no trace of his presence behind. With his vanishing, the people of Goldbrook awoke...with near instantaneity. Hailed as heroes, despite their thorough trouncing, they did not linger long in the city.

elise has a huge backstory that's pretty relevant to stuff, just a reminder...but it's gonna take me a while to finish; so she's still a wip.

Invari Lashe

Name: Invari Lashe

Race: Beastkin {Bovine} (i like beastkin, ok?! shut up!)

Title: None, yet, officially...and she can't think of one for herself (there are just soooo many possibilities!)

Age: 16

Appearance: Invari tends to draw glances due to her tremendous stature and "endowments". As a Bovine-type Beastkin, it is only reasonable that she would be possessed of ludicrously large breasts; though this still tends to draw glances from the more "mundane minded" folk of Kallore. She is undeniably large in all aspects, towering over most other mortals she encounters, standing at just under seven feet tall (more if ya include the slight rise of her ears). Being thick of limb and somewhat more slender about the waist, she does cut a certain form of feminine figure; though this is often overshadowed by the sheer expanse of her shoulders, size of her hands and cloven hooves. She once possessed a tail.

Her face is wide, somewhat rounded and possessed of slightly larger than normal features; eyes and mouth being veritably large, even for one of her race. Invari's skintone is somewhere just on the edge of being deep and honeyesque. She keeps her hair cut relatively short, small curls lingering just below her cheek; light brown, matching the liquid pools of her eyes. A somewhat flattened, broad nose sits above labrose lips, completing her, as said, rather broad features.

Invari adores gold, wearing heavy hoops through the base of her ears and one smaller through the side of her right nostril. Her attire is often plain, in comparison to most, with simple tones; and even though she tends to change clothing regularly, it is the bits of armor she wears that draws the eye from it. Golden, too, in coloration, but battered and bereft of any real shine; she wears gauntlets, greaves (altered to allow a bit of room for her hooves and a few inches above them) and a heavy collar about her neck. These are a gift from her mother, and she cherishes them greatly. She carries a heavy mace at her side (pretty ugly thing, honestly) and a tower shield on her back.

Personality: Invari Lashe has never been quick witted, nor particularly mindful of the world that surrounds her. However, this does not necessarily make her the 'slow' Beastkin that she appears the be on the surface. Invari takes her time in most things, thinking slowly and acting quickly; though, under pressure she tends to be at a loss and looks to others for directions...barring this she often reacts instinctively, relying on a 'fight or flight' mentality. She is reasonably pleasant and unerringly honest, though the nuances of sarcasm or subtlety are occasionally lost on her.

She is proud, to the end, of herself and all the things she's done and seen (though, admittedly, that's not a whole lot!) and strives to be a great warrior; hoping to earn huge piles of gold to make a comfy life for herself, the hard way. Invari has no head for Magic and is impressed by even the most simple of spells, but tends to be intensely curious about the functions of such things; be they actual spells or enchanted items. Invari enjoys meeting new people and making friends, though she can be fairly naive when it comes to the thoughts and feelings of others. Loyalty is something she prizes greatly and seeks to give to others, along with a shoulder to lean on. Despite her good nature and intentions...Invari can be greedy and impulsive where material goods are involved; perhaps even petulant, from time to time.

Affiliation: None, as of yet!

Abilities: Being particularly strong and quick. Hitting things with other things.

History: : One of Invari's earliest memories is of treacherous travel, fleeing from the Drasilian southlands with her family; fleeing flames and fangs in the arms of her mother, crying out in fear...only to be silenced with a gentle touch upon her brow. Smoke rose and screams filled the air, roars of pain and defiance as some turned to face the pack of Monsters that hounded them. She remembers glimpsing the back of her father's hulking form, an arm outstretched behind him, urging the others onward. The rest became a blur; cacophonic noise and the ground lingering just beneath her swinging feet...fear still caught in her throat...her mother's labored breathing.

Having fled the more immediate dangers of Drasil, Invari and her mother (Manishare) found their way into the Attenian heartland...to the bustling city of Yivishiin, where they would make a modest home. Time passed and those painful memories fled, along with thoughts of fear. While Manishare was a protective, even overbearing woman, Invari would often slip away to do as she pleased; roaming the streets with other displaced Beastkin, or Human urchins (when they felt it appropriate to employ her already impressive muscle) making what mischief she could, or simply lazing about. It was on those streets that she first entered combat, rather than simply hearing of it.

Manishare made due for herself and her daughter by unloading crates that came in from caravans, making certain that neither she nor Invari had to suffer discomfort while in the city. When at home, she would often demand Invari's attention; recounting more pleasant stories of the past, or telling her legends about adventurers. This is where the overbearing mother made her grievous mistake. Invari was instantly enthralled, after hearing these tales; much to Manishare's chagrin. Arguments were had, tears were shed...and forbiddances made.

Yet, on the day committed to the remembrance of her birth (twelve, was she, at the time) ; Invari's mother presented her with several pieces of armor. They were not golden, truly, but that did not matter to the girl...what mattered is how the light glinted from their surface, how her face was reflected in it; distorted by the bends and small waves that danced across the armor. She was in love. There was nothing in the world that could part her from the adventurer's path.

Since then, she has parted ways with her mother (though it took her nearly two and a half years to gather the heart to do so) and made her way into Drasil; returning to the land of her birth a stranger...with only a mace at her side, a shield on her back, armor around her neck, arms and legs and a considerable amount of strength. She wandered nigh aimlessly; until being informed of the bureaucratic nature of becoming a recognized and Ranked adventurer within Drasil.

Only recently has Invari come to Oakheim, stopping to pay her respects at the Stone of Nine before beginning her journey to Essia.

invari is done...and probably pretty sexy.

GUILDVENTURES

oh, you're here! (again!) this is the ooc for (what i plan to be chapter one of) GUILDVENTURES (my baby AND yours, though that's not the actual subtext) and herewithin we will be discussing things pertinent to the rp and...other things, i guess. i dunno! if you're here, ya know the drill! pile up and make it happen!

below is pretty much a copy/paste of the interest check. please post there if you're interested in joining, rather than here. bc, yeah. this is for folk who ARE ALREADY INVITED. i'm always looking for people, though (even though we may be reaching my comfort zone for capacity). post characters here. or over there. on that tab. that i totally knew existed. ; )

anyway! here's all this stuff!

intro

Cers made his way through the Guild Hall with an imperial air, his heavy boots thudding out a soldier's rhythm. Chatter did not cease at his approach, but it did wither to a near hush. Though his Company did not know the truth, the Black Adders suspected that their leader often went to his sanctuary to consort with Demons and draw upon their wisdom and malice. So feared was he, even among his own, that few would gaze long upon him. His armor was jagged and black, nicked and battered with nearly two decades of use...and, truly, most of them had never seen the man without it. Even in the bright light of their hall did he seem to be an umbral steel shadow.

He paid the majority little mind, casting brief glances from within his ophidian helm at those he kept closest. Sylvare, the Elven assassin he had come to know first through conflict. Noxys, the True Mage he had taken as a trophy during a raid on the Arcana Demense...and "Knees", the Faithful of Eldra who had come to him willingly, seeking to remain by Noxys' side. Cers valued them...the closest thing he had known to true friends. Sylvare gave him a small smile and brief nod, turning back to the hooded figures that surrounded her without offering a further word. Even if he had smiled in return, the woman could not have known; encased as his face were in the visage of his nameright.

Instead, he made his way from the main chamber; leaving behind the quieted conversations, curious glances and slight smiles. A heavy door parted for him without so much as a touch, quietly swinging to a close as he passed its threshold. Shadows washed over him in waves, once the lock affixed its self. Cers stood still, for a moment, willing his energy into nearby Runes. They flared to life instantly, casting a blue, flickering light; emulating fire to their fullest extent.

This room was not so ornate as the Black Adder Company's hall, but held an incorporeal weight that would make the knees of lesser men shake. In truth, he distantly recalled, he, himself had shaken once the thing had appeared. That thing was what dominated the center of this 'sanctuary' a massive statue...a statue depicting a figure in tattered robes, wearing a mask of bone. At the Dead God's statue were a set of stairs, carved in the likeness of skinless serpents. He drank in the sight, more elated than the man who had entered this room five years ago. All around him, the runetorches flickered violently; a portion of their energy draining into the shadows that lingered heavily at the back of the room.

"My lord," he spoke calmly, plainly, his voice deep and rough, even as he observed the coalescence of living shadows, "I have heard your summons." Cers approached, his boots no longer pounding against the floor...here, it seemed, that all was muted...suspended, in some way. A clawed gauntlet touched against the forehead of his helm, and his other hand crossed across his midsection; an acknowledgement and salute, all together. He strode forward at a respectful pace, much as he would expect a king to expect of his subjects and lowered himself to one knee; just before the first skeletal step.

"Every child knows the tale, do they not? The tale of the Heroes."

His voice was a venomous mist, drifting down in a very much apparent plume of indigo and shadows; the azure torchlight shifted with his ragged rasp and a slight chill arced through the marrow of the man who now knelt before the once-slain God of Chaos and Death. Cers, the Black Adder himself, dared to lift his eyes, again, to gaze into the nebulous pocket of shadows that lingered above him. It traced tendrils down an immaculately crafted representation of Dekruvitomen...the Dead God, touching tenderly on its masked imitation.

"Yes, my lord," the Black Adder replied, lowering his eyes, not willing to risk testing his master's patience, "and there are those who remember witnessing the final battle between yourself and-"

A cold, grating chuckle made his words stillborn. He could hear the shadows slithering closer, undulating just beyond the limit of his periphery, wrapping themselves around the statue.

"It has been but the blink of an eye, Black Adder, yet so much has changed. I am not surprised that this world still bears the scars I willed upon it," the essence of Dekruvitomen seemed contemplative, if Cers could claim to know the thoughts of his vile patron, twisting around the base of the statue and winding its self up to envelop it, "Do the Heroes," that word, as ever, was whispered with a barely restrained malice, "know that they have failed? That despite my sundering, I have come to be once more?"

The Black Adder opened his mouth, slightly, but held his tongue.

"The Elves still hold my dear Mother's Heart...and her other pieces have come to be these fragile Deities. How disgusting. I would have you and yours reclaim the pieces of my mask, Cers...the corporeal pieces of my power hidden away or held by those repulsive mortals."

Cers allowed himself a smile...a feral smirk that left the distant taste of blood lingering in his mouth.

"As you wish, my lord. I will not fail-"

The shadows rushed forward all at once, writhing down the stairs and, with surprising force, lifted the Black Adder's eyes to the twisting umbrage that spoke to him. His heart skipped a beat; a sudden fear, colder than ice, invading his veins.

"I know you will not, dear Black Adder. You have cause to hate the Heroes...nearly so strong as my own," Dekruvitomen chuckled, a sound that rattled Cers' skull, "I will not permit you to fail. You will be my champion...and you will be the herald of my return."

There was something sinister in the words that Cers did not notice was already manifesting. Acidic, rancid indigo drifted in through the eyes and mouth of his serpent's shell; an arcane electricity coursing through the Black Adder as he stared into the darkness...as he felt it enter him. Pain wracked the Black Adder, as it never had before. Breath had left him, subverted by the words and blessing of his master. His scream was silent and his body convulsed...his vision overtaken by darkness.

info

The Premise

Fifteen years prior to the events depicted above, and all those to follow, the Goddess Eldra was Sundered by Dekruvitomen, her shadow. Long had the struggle between Eldra (Compassion and Order) and Dekruvitomen (Chaos and Death) been the subject of legend through the Divided Kingdoms. With Eldra's Sundering...she was no more, at least not in the sense that one could commune with her directly. Left behind were countless corporeal Shards of the Goddess, cast all across the mortal world. Dekruvitomen then assumed the mantle of sole deity.

The Nine Heroes rose to defy and eventually defeat Dekruvitomen, Sundering the essence of Chaos and Death as he had, before, Sundered Order and Compassion. It took these Heroes five years to complete their goal. Rising to the status of legends, themselves, the Heroes went their separate ways after Dekruvitomen's defeat...each of them in possession of a fragment of the "Dead God's" mask, that supposedly contained his essence. These fragments were hidden away from the world or kept by their respective Hero.

PLOTTING ON YOU

As something of a rite of passage, before heading to Essia, it is common for fledgling adventurers to visit the Stone of Nine (in a small grove a few miles outside of Oakheim, if'n ya don't recall) to both pay their respects and immerse themselves in the very ideals (whatever those are to the individual) of adventurin'! Fate connives in interesting ways, when the Gods are absent or busy playing at their own devices. It is here, gathered around the Stone that we first view OUR HEROES (that's you. yeah, you! oh! and probably me, too!) as they pay their respects and reflect on the journey yet undertaken. Unbound by familiarity or companionship, these strangers stand with a great distance between them; soon to be united by the machinations of Fate its self.

Reality is ever attempting to right the wrongs within it, to restore a semblance of balance to the worlds it contains. These strangers are the instruments of Fate, yet to be tuned. With silent steps, a hooded figure arrives and places a pair small offerings at the base of the Stone (as is customary for those who wish to pay respects). A tiny thing, the first, wrapped in nothing but paper; the barest edge revealed. A bone fragment, jagged and yellowed, peering out; wordlessly enticing these gathered strangers to gaze upon it. Beside it a translucent shard, silver mist swirling lazily within. Before these strangers have been placed the beginnings of discord and suffering...but also the essence of hope.

The stranger flees as quickly as they had come, giving no glimpse of their face (wonder who that could be...), leaving the choice before the fledglings; already knowing the tune they will play and the chaotic steps that follow their raucous melody.

Fate, the stranger knows, is a predictable force...

SUNDERING THINGS

Sundering is a vile and largely unnatural concept, the true disintegration and subsequent scattering of a soul; be it mortal or divine. While death is usually (USUALLY) a simplistic thing within Kallore, Sundering is a bit more complicated; at least where mortal souls are involved. Mortals, after experiencing a Sundering are simply no more (leaving behind no physical body, USUALLY). They leave nothing tangible behind, their soul is scattered across the entirety of the world they inhabit; and their Magic is returned to its source. For True Mages this would be the source of True Magic, aforementioned. Runewielders and those who don't 'possess' magic, their essence is simply recycled. this recycling is an odd thing, as pieces of the sundered soul enter a new host, granting a sentient host (be it another mortal, or monster, mind you; beasts and the like don't much count) the potential to SEE, briefly these memories and draw on foreign magic...at risk of expending that piece of the Sundered soul.

When divine souls (or, rather, ENTITIES. because the divine ARE their souls, rather than simply HAVING one. i suppose i should take time to point out that the SOUL, when not sundered is simply 'wiped clean' and 'passed on' into another waiting body. that's KIND OF what death is supposed to be all about in kallore. though dekruvitomen is known to just kind of...er...fuck around with the order of things by ALTERING rather than 'CLEANING' souls that come his way.) experience a Sundering, there are heavy ramifications to both the material and ethereal worlds. With Eldra's Sundering, there was little in the way of physical damage...but the ethereal realm (colloquially known as a variety of things. by a lot of different people. religion tends to not be so picky as to WHAT you call it, so long as you know of it. same with death, a lot of people view death differently; but it's generally accepted as a thing. that thing i said above. about the souls.) was tossed into a manic furor, creating fractures in a realm that had never been damaged (in this iteration of reality), casuing fluxes in ethereal flows (nope, you don't get an explanation on that one...yet. use your imagination. that's for later.) and causing (THAT PARTICULAR) section of reality to begin folding in on its self, unable to cope with the idea of the Goddesses demise. (so confused and lost as it was) This is what lead to the creation of Eldra Shards and their dispersal throughout corporeal reality, rather than them being removed altogether from the cycle of things and forcing Order and Compassion into a state that would avoid a true death (and, thus, being thrust into dekruvitomen's waiting hands) and allow for some semblance of balance to be maintained.

Learning to Sunder is something largely beyond the mortal capacity (save for a scant few), and attempts at unraveling what binds a being's essence usually only manages to create a temporary distortion in said being's perception and can even have unpredictable effects on both the physical and ethereal aspects of that particular creature. Though, for countless years there have existed artifacts and trinkets capable of enacting (or at least CLOSELY imitating) a Sundering.

ADVENTURIN'

In the last decade, there has been a rather large reform to the way that adventurers and adventuring its self work. Where once those starry-eyed and bold of heart would simply leave home and seek their fortune...the kingdom of Drasil instituted a system to allow for a more organized, less dangerous method of allowing those with a passion for exploration and combat to indulge themselves, benefit their lands and help remove the still lingering taint Dekruvitomen left on the world.

Guilds, or Companies, are formed by adventurers with a vision. To form a Guild, one must have a Deity. A Deity is spawned from a Shard of Eldra kept close to a mortal being. The process of converting a Shard to a Deity is simple...one must simply imbue the Shard with enough of their vital energy...giving life to a piece of the Goddess. Each Deity is supposedly an aspect of Eldra herself, each unique. However, it is risky for some to nurture a Shard; as the energy required to give the contained Deity a corporeal form can be quite impressive. Deities are necessary to adventurers or mercenaries in that they can augment and improve the abilities of the Guild or Company that they are tied to.

The Drasilian Vault is a rather idyllic gauntlet for new Companies to test their mettle. With entrances scattered throughout the city (all connected by the vaunted Warp Nexus), the Labyrinth (as it colloquially called) is always within reach...and rarely unpopulated. While the Drasilian Keepers (an official, government funded, Guild devoted to the safety of other adventurers, comprised mostly of merchants, healers, blacksmiths, alchemists and other tradespeople) have certain failsafes in place to prevent the permanent death of adventurers within the Labyrinth, it is not terribly uncommon for novices to face their demise in lower levels of the Vault. While rumors surround the Vault, it is known that the lower levels contain riches beyond measure. However, entry to certain levels of the Labyrinth can be restricted due to the Ranking of a Company.

Rankings are given based on merit and the completion of certain missions given by the Keepers, but can be increased in a variety of ways. All new Guilds are given the lowest possible Rank; E. There are bi-weekly tournaments held by the Drasilian Monarchy for each category of Guild. Aside from these sanctioned tournaments, there are several events that are given a certain amount of weight towards increasing (or decreasing) a Guild's Rank.

While each Guild has an overall Rank, it is possible for individual members to fall above or below that margin. Much as their Company, adventurers may increase their Rank through several different ways; though this often takes a much longer time and yields a more 'tangible' reward for the adventurer. With each increase in Rank, the adventurer is allowed to Commune with their Deity; allowing the Deity to bestow upon them greater abilities. Usually, the Deity is instinctively aware of when an adventurer has earned their advancement. Communion with a Deity requires a spirit Conduit; a tattoo or marking gained upon joining their specific Guild, which is etched onto the adventurer during a brief initiation ritual. The artistry of these tattoos is usually determined by the founder of the Company.

Despite the fact that most Guilds based in Drasil prefer exploration of the Labyrinth, there are often contracts (assorted by estimated Rank) available, through the Keepers, which send adventurers out for more 'mercenary' styled work; often dealing with a problem on a different part of the continent. Some prefer to make their living this way. Currency in Drasil is rather different from most of the Divided Kingdoms, being simple wooden (lacquered) disks with an etching of a mare (the essian mare, more specifically; their standard) inlaid with copper, silver and gold. The value is rather simplistic to keep track of; fifty copper to a silver, twenty five silver to a gold. Drasil has maintained this system for quite some time, to conserve precious resources.

THE SHADOW SELF AND YOU

Those who are touched by Darkness carry with them an eternal burden, a constant conflict in their mind. It is always there, whispering dread thoughts that would usually be suppressed. They are always there, lurking just behind the afflicted's eyes. This 'other' is the Shadow Self...an amalgamation of pain and distress, malice and sorrow. The Shadow Self is many things, but foremost it is a distorted reflection of those that it inhabits. While the Shadow Self is, usually, subverted by those who bear them...there comes a time when they demand indulgence. When the moon is pregnant with light, hanging high in the night sky; her fullness spread across the land, the Shadow Self is released from their heart-prison. A macabre imitation of their host, the Shadow Self is truly more twin than doppleganger; knowing everything about those that they were born from. They are in every respect the equal of the heart they are spawned from, possessing the abilities and knowledge of their progenitor.

With each full moon, the duel begins. Death to the Shadow Self mean a loss of control...and subversion. For it is never the aim of the Shadow Self to slay their counterpart, but to assume control of their physical form. Defeating the Shadow Self forces it to lie dormant for a time. Being defeated by the Shadow Self allows it to assume control of their former host. What happens thereafter is often tragic and painted in bloodshed. However, subversion is not permanent. One can be shaken from the possession with sufficient applied magical force or bringing their own willpower to bear. More often than not, however, the Shadow Self will begin a rampage; forcing conflict with those around it...forcing former allies to draw their blades and ready their spells.

MAGIC, A MULTIDIMENSIONAL CONSTANT

As in all worlds, Magic is made manifest by willpower. However, there exists a disparity in Magic...which has lead to something of a debate among the more scholarly denizens of the Divided Kingdoms. For so long as mortal recollection stretches to the past, Magic has been an integral part of both society and survival; though its implementation has two distinct variations.

True Magic is, in essence, the very heartbeat of Kallore; an immensely powerful reservoir of Eldra's energy, still lingering long after the creation of the world. Though it exists in abundance, the aptitude for using True Magic varies in all individuals...those with high aptitude (some would say attunement) for this form of Magic tend to become Mages (formally referred to as True Mages by the Arcana Demense). True Magic tends to have differing effects on those who wield it...touching their minds in a way that both limits and bolsters their abilities. Some experience a euphoric feeling when reaching out into the vast web...others feel a cold and unempathetic emptiness. The emotional state (often called Throes) tends to determine what a True Mage can do with True Magic.

Those ill-suited to wield True Magic may still be capable of calling briefly upon the essence to shape a weak spell, or heal a minor wound (on occasion), but find themselves far more taxed than a Mage for doing so...and experience only one form of Throe...giving them a sense of disquiet...as though they were wading into deep, still waters with no true knowledge of swimming.

Those with low apititude, but a fascination with Magic tend to gravitate towards the more commonly used form of Magic. Runes, said to be the Words of Eldra (or, by some, surmised to be the language of Gods from long before Kallore and the Divided Kingdoms existed) are used similarly to True Magic...though without the limitations that sometimes afflict True Mages. While Runewielders (other names for such types exist and are often regionally specific) do not experience Throes...they do experience a sort of feedback during the enactment of their will. This feedback is called the Whisper and is supposedly an echo of whatever element they have called upon, manifested as a word or phrase that repeats endlessly in their mind while their Runes are active. Runes may be carved into an object, which is a fairly basic aspect of enchanting, or sewn into garments. Runewielders also commonly trace the shape of their desired Rune in the air during combat, if a projectile is desired. Runes may be etched onto the ground to create traps or protective circles. While Runes are common, finding those who have truly mastered them are rare.

(As a note, both forms of Magic are based on elements.

Throes tend to reflect the emotional ideal of the element evoked; for example, True Mages using fire are often infused with vigor and passion when calling upon their Magic. Ice Mages would be emotionally distant, as though their heart were filled with the element. The Elemental Principles that exist are Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, Earth, Void and Genesis. Void and Genesis are essentially the Elemental representations of Dekruvitomen and Eldra, respectively; Void holds sway over the ideas of Chaos and Death, being something of a substitution for generalised 'Shadow' Magic, while Genesis is formed from the concepts of Order and Compassion, being a substitute for generalised 'Light' Magic.

More examples of Throes can be provided, if anyone is curious.

Runes follow the same Elemental Principles, having the same basic set of Elements. Whispers vary from person to person, in strength, speed of the word or phrase and volume. As with Throes, the Whisper often has some connection to the invoked Element. Examples can be provided for the curious.)

OMG UR A HERO

The Heroes; Those who weathered the storm brought in the wake of Chaos and Death have been left scarred...but stronger for it. Though most of the true Nine Heroes remain, all of their stories are told in near perpetuity by bards, singers, gossipers, laymen and adventurers. They are a varied group, brought together, once, by their common purpose; now, they are splintered and scattered across the land...guarding their Mask Fragments, living simpler lives or still pursuing the adventures demanded by their restless hearts.

The Nine Heroes;

Elise Ethra, The Silver Glint. [Beastkin. Runewielder, Genesis. Living.]

Tempa, The Firebrand. [Human. True Mage, Flame. Living.]

Seralle of The Shadowed Countenance. [Elf. True Mage, Myriad. Living]

Granz Granwald, The Gargantuan. [Beastkin/Human. Berserker. Dead.]

Julian Schultheiss, Opulent Summoner. [Human. Summoner. Dead.]

Kalayron, The Protector. [Elf. Priest. Living.]

The Knight of Cracked Mirrors. [???. Knight. ???]

The Shadow. [???. Ninja. ???]

Abelene Ayshford, The Iron Prisoner. [Human. Warden. Living]

DRASIL, THE HOME OF ADVENTURERS!!! AND YOU!!!

Drasil has long been the strongest of the Divided Kingdoms, in political influence, armed forces (of both the mundane and magical varieties) and wealth; given that most adventurers found the Drasilian Monarchy far more lenient...and far more generous than other nations. Known as the 'Mother's Kingdom' in ancient texts, long have the blessings of Eldra rained down on the Drasilian peoples. So, too, it was that Dekruvitomen most iresome towards this kingdom and sought to use it as his home on the mortal plane; as such, it was Drasil that bore the brunt of his wrath.

The capital city, Essia, has been rebuilt within the last five years; towering higher than ever before, situated on the edge of Eldra's Throne (a mountain that stands proudly in the center of Drasil), so spurred by hope, after Dekruvitomen's defeat, were the survivors. Though Eldra is Sundered, there still exist many shrines to her worship throughout the kingdom...and the Deities that protect Guilds are often treated as nobility by those who govern the country (though there are those who lobby that the Deities should be treated as Gods, rather than simply privileged mortals). Situated, but somewhat scattered around Essia are smaller cities.

While the land has begun to heal, the scars of battle and the Dead God's spite still mar the rolling plains and hills.

To the south, where Eldra's Throne is but a distant vision, there are several small villages that have risen from the ashes. It was here that most fled when Dekruvitomen appeared, seeking refuge in their sister kingdom of Attenia. After the conflict, those who fled returned to the scorched remains of their home...and found not despair for what they had lost...but a new appreciation for the life they had been granted. As such, these small villages tend to share in both cultures...and have a higher population of Beastkin than the more northern portions of the kingdom. Most folk from the southern portion of Drasil are hardy and fond of their labors, whatever they may be. It is here, in these small hamlets, that dreams of adventure are often born...sending throngs of the young and eager towards Essia to prove themselves.

The eastern quarter of Drasil is an amalgamation of forests, rivers and marshes. It is here that Dekruvitomen's darkness still lingers most heavily. The villages here are often wrapped in loving, high walls to defend against frequent Monster incursions and even Volanci war parties. Not uncommon is the sight of Drasilian guard parties, or contracted Guilds patrolling the paths or between the trees; searching for threats or simply making their patrols. Rarely is this part of the country or its people at ease...but here is where most Runewielders (called Crafters, 'round these parts) can find the root of their trade in Drasil. It is from the city of Nemea that most high-quality enchanted items are crafted. Smaller cities are often logging or mining communities. Many caves exist in this area and serve as the lair of Monsters or bandits. Several contracts given by the Keepers will send E or D Ranked Guilds to this area.

Western Drasil is noticeably colder than the rest of the kingdom; bearing a demure cast, resembling autumn, even in the tightening grip of summer. The rest of the seasons are similarly cast, with the exception winter clamping its fangs viciously around this portion of Drasil. Often wet with recent rain, or laden heavy with still-falling snow, villages and cities in this area often seem quiet and peaceful...nestled as they are within mountains or in deep valleys. It is here that the Arcana Demense is located. This is where the majority of Drasilian wealth is mined or transported for refining. The most noteworthy city, aside from the veritable fortress of the Arcana Demense, is Hubris. Hubris is a city that extends deep into a range of mountains, and is a relatively new addition to the Drasilian major cities. Forged to spite Dekruvitomen, in conjunction with the Mages, Hubris has several similarities to Essia; in that it hosts tourneys and the cave system beneath it serves as something of a Vault.

Arid and studded with errant rocks, the northern reaches of Drasil is much the withered and near-barren twin of the south. Some fled beyond the northern Drasilian borders to seek solace in the Dreamlands (the vaunted and somewhat mystical home of the Elves) and then returned, after the Nine Heroes' victory. These migrants carried back with them two important things that would allow what was once a burning waste into something that now resembles habitable. The first of these is Elven irrigation techniques, which allow farming in the northern reaches using both natural and Magic skill to gain greater yield from otherwise unsuitable lands. The second is a handful of Elves, themselves; who have, since accomplishing their mission have returned home or made new homes within the Drasilian borders. Sparsely populated and known for its preposterous amount of dangerous wildlife (both natural and Monstrous), those who live in the north are generally reclusive and wary of the very land they've made their home in. It is here that one can find the Dreampass; a gateway, now sealed by a Magic barrier, that at one time allowed passage into the Dreamlands. Its most noteworthy city is Ravaraught "the Silent City", where the very Order of space and time were ravaged by Dekruvitomen's arrival. To travel to the Dreampass, adventurers must first traverse the Silent City; where countless horrors constantly slip between realities.

PROMINENT RACES OF KALLORE

Humans; The youngest of Kallore's races, gifted with malleable souls. A diverse group, Humans are believed to stand perpetually on the precipice between Order and Chaos; capable of swaying between either on a whim. It is this unpredictability and versatility that have earned Humans a certain degree of distrust among the other races, throughout history. Whether they wield a sword, spell or merely words; Humans are fairly capable in most regards, though physically weaker than Beastkin and less magically inclined than Elves. Humans tend to cluster in great numbers, cutting their homes from places other races would rather avoid. Despite being the youngest, Humans have quickly become the most populous of the races.

Beastkin; The first children of Eldra, Beastkin are generally known for their prodigious strength of arm and the resilience of their spirits. Known throughout time as nomads, their presence in the Divided Kingdoms is a rather recent event. The Migration (known formally, in most texts, as the "Beastkin Influx",) took place nearly two hundred years ago and lead to a prolonged and rather bloody conflict with the Humans and Elves who inhabited the lands they "invaded". Despite the plague that forced them from their ancestral homelands, the Beastkin, weakened and thrust into war, held their own and eventually managed to create a tentative peace with the Humans...while the Elves withdrew completely from the world.

Since the end of the Migration and subsequent battles, (with the fighting officially ending and the Beastkin being given citizenry of the Divided Kingdoms) just under one hundred years prior to Eldra's Sundering, the Beastkin have made themselves rather comfortable in Human civilizations; though some still live in small tribes, honoring their ancient ways.

Beastkin are thought to be the 'precursor' race to Humans, given that both have glaring similarities in appearance; the difference being that Beastkin possess one or several aspects of the beast that their bloodline resembles. The souls of the Beastkin are attuned to Compassion, giving them a hearty outlook on life and their lot in it. However, Beastkin are not known for being very creative.

Elves; With souls given solely to the ideals of Order, Elves are the younger cousins of the Beastkin and almost completely their opposite. While their bodies are generally weaker than either of the other races, Elves tend to more easily tap into the primal forces of True Magic and embrace their Throes more readily; allowing them to become more potent shapers of the arcane. Elves have long been reclusive and untrusting of the other races...and once ruled where the Divided Kingdoms now stand.

It was not war or sickness that drove them from their lands...once they finally did withdraw from the world, it was by the choice of their King and Council; for it is they who hold the Heartshard, the largest piece of Eldra known to exist. While trade and occasional political ventures are made outside the Dreamlands...most Elves that make their home in the Divided Kingdoms are either exiles or adventurers of sorts. They are possessed of incredibly elongated life spans. Generally living around five times longer than that of other races.

Dwarves; Possessed of the strength of Beastkin, the Magic inclinations of Elves, the infinite possibilities of the Human soul...and the prized creation of Dekruvitomen. They are stocky, staunch and hairy creatures; prone to bouts of insatiable bloodlust and long spells of insane inebriation. It is they who haunt the dreams of lesser mortals...it is they who are the ultimate slayers...it is THEY WHO ARE DESTINED LORD OVER KALLORE WHEN THE LESSER RACES ARE CONSUMED AND DESTROYED! IT IS THEY WHO HAUNT THE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DRIFT THROUGH THE NIGHTMARES OF THE COWARDLY! THEY ARE THE ULTIMATE LIFE FORMS!

(they also don't exist! so there's that! no, seriously. you read that right. they aren't real. no dwarves. none. ever. they're just short elves. or...like...midgets.)

Monsters;

Monsters have always been a problem in the world, albeit one that never seems to fade away. With each Monster slain, another seems to ready its self in whatever nebulous void of divine consciousness dreams up their often horrid forms; prepared to slip into the mortal world. Some surmise that Monsters are a punishment for abusing the remnants of Eldra's energy...some say that Monsters simply are and always will be. None can be certain as to purpose of their existence; save to say that they are the result of willpower exerted and that they, in turn, exert their will upon the world.

Monstrous creatures come in many varieties and varying strengths. There will be many along your path. However, there are some Monsters that rise above the others, through their willpower...or the amount of blood they have shed; none know why these particular creatures rise to the height of power that they possess. Stronger Monsters possess stronger souls, making them more cunning or ruthless...yet, there have been cases of Monsters that once caused unimaginable carnage, Monsters that once inflicted dread and horror simply disappearing; vanishing before the adventurers who had sought to slay them.

Monsters are generally mysterious, but given the sheer variety of them that inhabit Kallore...it is practically impossible to tell if they share any true similarities beyond the method of their creation.

(note from me; monsters is a pretty loose term. so we'll see lots of these things. maybe even some surprising ones. wink wonk wink wonk)

(mind you! stereotypes are bad! do whatcha want with whatcha want! these are just ideas and terrible, terrible generalizations!)

CHARACTER SHEET TEMPLATE

Name: (this one is obvious!)
Race: (this one too!)
Title: (you can give yourself one, if you're super pretentious or something!)
Age: (like, how old you are and stuff?)
Appearance: (like, a picture is fine...or some words. idc. they're all beautiful to me! include a little run-down of your gear, here, please.)
Personality: (acting up to smack 'em up!)
Abilities: (like, what you're good at and stuff. if a mage of some sort, be it runewielder or true, include the general scope of your abilities and your throe or whisper in this area.)
History: (where ya from? where ya been? whatcha do? doesn't have to be super lengthy.)

and that's all she wrote! (so far.)

edit; lol, i didn't know there was like...a character tab thing already created. feel free to post in either. i'll compile them in the character thread, either way.

quick reference for edits; made minor edits, added a tiny bit about drasilian currency. they use wood coins. neato~!

added some sundering stuff. also neato. (you can FEEL my enthusiasm crawling up your back.)

GUILDVENTURES [the character thread, jeez]

post yoself. you know what it is! ; )

or i'll post you.

i'll post you so hard.

The Silver Glint

Name: Elise "The Silver Glint" Ethra

Title: see above, but yours can totally go here!

Race: Beastkin {Cat}

Age: 26

Appearance: Snow white hair elegantly cascading over delicate features, Elise has always been pleasing to gaze upon. Though, her gaze, often, leaves others unsettled. Deepest azure peers from beneath those alabaster waves, bearing the slitted pupil and oblong eye-shape of her kind. Slender shoulders bear the weight of silver pauldrons, smooth and ever polished; bereft of any scratches or dents. Between the pauldrons, at her back, flows a grey, hooded cloak; clasped at the front, a white tabard covering modest breasts and a toned form. She is tall, among her kind, standing nearly at six feet tall; perhaps more if you included the rise of the feline ears perched atop her head...similarly porcelain in coloration to both her hair and skin.

Around her arms are wrapped grey silken gloves, though on her right arm she wears a light sleeve of plated armor. Her waist is wrapped in a skirt of chains, bound together by silver clasps; beneath which lies a pair of well-worn traveling pants, brown, burlap and loose, held in place by the same clasps that link her skirt. Elise's legs are clad in long boots with metal strips evenly spaced along them, beginning at the ankle and going upward to the cuff of the boot; which ends at her knee.

Personality: Elise is known to wear a sad smile, most of the time; the smallest upturning of her lips that does not quite belie the burden she carries behind her eyes. She is often polite, though can, from time to time, be aloof or brusque with those in her company (which, admittedly, she doesn't keep much of anymore). At times, she may came across as self-righteous and tends to be extremely stubborn when she sets her mind to something. However, Elise tends to attempt keep to herself and avoids speaking beyond what she feels she must. Ever determined, she has not stopped adventuring since the Heroes' victory over Dekruvitomen and has developed a habit of drifting from place to place; accepting contracts from the Keepers or simply assisting the locals with their problems as she is able.

It is said that she used to be quick to laugh and quick to anger, mercurial in all aspects of her life...leading some to believe that, somewhere along the way, the Silver Glint lost her luster.

Affiliation: Nine Heroes {Former}
Star-Crossed Company {Former}

Abilities: Runewielder, Genesis.

Elise has come to know well her Runes and utilize them to their fullest in combat. While most Genesis Runewielders tend to craft and create things from their Elemental Principle, Elise uses the Runes to augment herself (as well as her armor and rapier, from time to time) and increase her speed to nigh ludicrous levels; it is through this that she earned her title...along with her swordplay and flair for slaughter. Her Whisper is a simple word, over and over. "More" the Runes cry into her mind, bursting through and infiltrating her thoughts. More speed...more power...more blood.


History: It is unknown exactly when Elise's family left the Volanci heartlands and made their way into the small village of Oakheim. What is known, however, is that Elise was always seen with a blade in her hand; a blunted thing given to her by her father. An adventurer, himself, before a festering wound (inflicted by the foulest of Void Magic) took his left leg; 'reduced' (as he would say) to a simple blacksmith, though not one of incredible skill, he sought to shape his daughter into a true warrior...a valiant protector of the innocent, as he had been in his hayday. Little did the Titan of Meita know that he would succeed in a grand fashion. Without his guidance, it is impossible to tell what would have become of young Elise...without his knowledge of Runewielding and swordplay. With Theron (Elise's older brother) in Drasil, pursuing a life of mercenary work in the Star-Crossed Company and Emirra (Elise's mother) long deceased, Veiss (the Titan) doted on his daughter and pushed her every day to better herself...but also to better the lives of those around her.

At the age of thirteen she left home, at the behest of her father but spurred by her own eagerness to venture into the Drasilian heart...to Essia its self to find her brother and join the Star-Crossed Company. She rarely speaks of the few months it took her to traverse the Monster-ravaged countryside. It was only then that Elise began to understand why she had first picked up a blade. The Sundering was something rarely talked about in secluded Oakheim, where the local Mages took to creating wards against the Monsters and folk continued about their lives normally...albeit nervously. It is uncertain when she first saw a mortal die...or when she first killed a mortal, herself. Certain is the fact that she joined the Star-Crossed Company nearly one year after leaving home; though Theron had apparently already abandoned their group to head into the Dreamlands, seeking some Elven assassin that had made an attempt on his life mere days before her arrival.

In the employ of the Star-Crossed Company, Elise honed her skills against Monster and mortal alike...rising quickly in both Rank and prestige. This bit of renown did not earn her the title Silver Glint, but it did earn her the fight that would inevitably lead to the title being placed upon her head. Tempa, "the Firebrand", a fiery warrior of considerable skill and possessed of a deep passion for combat arrived at the Star-Crossed Company's Guild Hall as a herald of the Black Adder Guild; issuing a formal challenge from Cers. Tempa was to face a champion of Malik's (the leader of the Star-Crossed Company) choosing. Malik, impressed with Elise and eager to see Cers and the Black Adders bested on the field sent her forth without a second thought; accepting the duel and setting into motion events that would inevitably lead to the formation of the Nine Heroes.

As with all formal challenges, the duel was to take place in the Keeper's Amphitheater. With both Guilds gathered, the terms were set by Cers and Malik. There would be no duel to the death, but the losing faction would disband their Company and gain the others' champion. No hesitation met these terms, Malik and Cers both slavering at the idea of their rival's pride crushed before the gathered masses. The Keepers brought their Magic forth, ensuring that neither would suffer permanent injury; and the battle was joined.

Sparks and embers danced in the light of a setting sun, silver and flame meeting one another for the first time. Somewhere, in their duel...a friendship...a kinship formed. Their smiles were true and there was an unbridled joy in Elise's heart that drowned out the Whisper echoing through her mind. The woman before her was perhaps two years her elder and better suited to the warrior's life than she; a blur of orange and red that sought to slip through her silver slashing shield. Each blow was met with another, for what felt like hours; until the full moon blossomed overhead. Until that night, Elise had never faced her Shadow Self...and, perhaps, she would have succumbed to it...if not for Tempa's intervention.

Elise would not recall the spectacle, nor the surge of Monsters that followed in the wake. When she awoke, in Oakheim, sprawled in a familiar bed, The Silver Glint was the name now etched into her heart. Tempa informed her of this, after Veiss had assailed her with his affection and, to the disdain of the Titan and The Silver Glint, that the Star-Crossed Company had been declared disbanded. Balking at the notion of joining the Black Adders, Elise prepared herself for harsh life under Cers and his ilk. With a throaty laugh, Tempa dismissed the idea; explaining that she had no intention of letting someone like Elise join the Black Adder Guild...and that she had lost interest in the idea, herself, seeing riper opportunities in having The Silver Glint in her debt.

Yet, despite being nestled back in her home, in the company of her father and several familiar faces...Elise's heart was heavily restless. She had failed the Star-Crossed Company and, by way of her failure, caused one of the oldest Guilds in Drasil to be broken; its members cast to the wind, and simultaneously, though inadvertantly, in a way, spited the Black Adder himself (a man of great repute, for his cunning, combat prowess and lack of creativity). It did not sit well with her that she had been spirited from the Amphitheater, but, in truth, she felt a kinship with Tempa and much preferred her company over that of what she expected from the Black Adder.

The world outside of the small hamlet Elise had become so accustomed to was more warped during the time she had been rendered unconscious. Darkness now touched the land...almost palpable as it lingered and permeated all within Drasil. Mortals found themselves prone to indulging their dark thoughts and Shadow Selves became increasingly common. With the rise of the Shadow Selves came an abundance of murder and strife that the Divided Kingdoms had not witnessed in several centuries. Elise observed the change with horror, seemingly noticing it for the first time...and found hatred growing in her heart; a maliciousness born of righteous indignation, and swore upon that seeping stain on her soul that she would find a way to end it.

Time passed slowly, thoughts of the suffering world eating away at her. She was a swordswoman grown from strife, but the needling feelings that swirled within her demanded action; fear and determination rallied against what she feared to be an insurmountable foe. She knew that Eldra's Shadow had Sundered the Goddess of Compassion and Order nearly a decade ago; and plied his vile whims against the land she had once favored most. Yet, when had he ever shown himself to the mortals; aside from his grand, terrible invasion into the mortal world? Where was the Masked God hiding himself? What reason did he have to shy from the realm he, now, by all rights, claimed sovereignty over? Questions that gave her hope. Confiding in Tempa, she found solace...confiding in Veiss, she found an answer.

Her father was the first to utter the name in her presence. Though, she would later come to find that Kalayron had long been a figure of near mythical reputation amongst the Faithful of Eldra. Said to be her Avatar, the only one capable of truly drawing upon the power of the Goddess, he resided in a monastery hidden from the cruelty of the world; offering refuge to those who would still follow the Light that Eldra left behind. "The Protector", he was named...and it was he who would surely know how to combat the Dread Shadow. So it was that Elise had come to know of Asmosa, the original resting place of the Heartshard (before it was given to the Elves for protection, in years past, by the monks; fearing that Dekruvitomen would seek its destruction), and a holy place to the Faithful. Far to the north, in the scorched and shimmering expanses, where Monsters roamed in vast hordes and the land its self seemed to bend to the will of Darkness. Elise resolved, then, to seek out The Protector and his counsel. The Firebrand agreed eagerly to accompany her, lusting for an opportunity to pit herself against the most fearsome foe that the world had to offer.

When the two set forth from Oakheim, it is uncertain...some would say weeks, others mere days after Elise's vow to venture to Asmosa. And for some time it would go unnoticed that a Standing Stone (a relic left by the Beastkin, a simple stone...standing. s'pretty big.) in a secluded grove now bore two simple symbols etched into its smooth surface; an oath made in secret, a pact binding together two who would bind together nine. This Standing Stone would become the Stone of Nine, where each of the Nine Heroes engraved their symbol and swore their oath; once they had all been gathered. Tempa and Elise walked and fought, side by side, battling Monsters that would assail small hamlets...or deal with particularly fierce bandits on the roadside, help farmers replace their wagon wheels and all sorts of heroic (if sometimes seemingly excessively diminutive) minutiae, along their way to the vaunted monastery...to the Avatar of Eldra...to a solution.

Kalayron proved to be reserved about the two, glimpsing Tempa's sins and seeing the Darkness lingering within Elise. With some reluctance, and, according to some stories, after days of pleading from The Silver Glint, The Protector left his sanctuary with the two; erecting a barrier after his exit, allowing only those with benign intentions into the temple. He would draw the next of the Nine closer, proposing a plan to seek out a powerful True Mage taking refuge somewhere within Drasil. So, with nothing but a small lead, an increasingly close friend, and one of the most powerful priests in Kallore at her back, Elise set out for Essia.

The journey proved far less dangerous than expected, given their combined might; and within scant days they arrived at Essia's gates...only to find them aflame. While Essia had held firm against Monsters, the ire of Seralle was something far more than the Essian Guard could easily handle. Cast in the shadow of roaring, towering flames, slender lips let a smile pass over them; Seralle Of The Shadowed Countenance turned to the others and offered a humble bow, saying that she had been expecting to run into them. Pressed about the mounting flames at her back, Sera (as she preferred the diminutive, obviously...bc otherwise it's a mouthful) simply smiled and waved it away; stating that it was nothing more than a misunderstanding and that no one (aside from that poor gate) had or would be harmed by the flames. With a wave of her hand, she dispersed the blaze and laughed; offering her services to the group, for a nominal fee (though she never actually collected on her stated price...and what she actually stated is subject to speculation).

So smoothly had things progressed, that the inevitable snag (the first of many, actually) would finally be encountered.

No one knows what lies beneath the mirrored mask...even to this day, nor why he drew his blade against the gathered four. Yet he did, but not before the first of the Heroes had walked into a trap. Goldbrook was a village founded on the principle of mercantile; a bustling city in the midst of a river, suspended on wood and bound with ropes. It was here that a rumor had lead them, seeking an item (specifically a pendant) that was said to contain a Shard of Eldra that had been repurposed into a weapon...something capable of weakening Dekruvitomen, should he ever come into its radiance. They found the city silent, but not abandoned...countless bodies littered the streets; bloodless, but all prone, with no sign of a struggle. Elise and Tempa, helpless against whatever malady had been placed upon these people, stood watch as Kalayron and Sera began attempting all within their considerable power to awaken the slumbering (yes, really, they were all k.o'd).

He appeared from a distortion in the air, rays of the midday Sun glancing violently from his form in streaks of distorted light. His armor was strangely smooth, pulling in reflections from all around, though riddled with black fissures that distorted the images. His frame slight and sickly, to the estimation of those who beheld him. Though silent, the drawing of his blade (which, strangely, was not present when he appeared, but seemed to be pulled from the same distortion that still licked at the world around him) was challenge enough for those gathered. The Knight of Cracked Mirrors faced the four...and bested them. With a slight scoff, tossing his blade back into the ether, he finally spoke...in a voice that seemed almost alien, so absent was emotion or inflection in its tones. The Knight told them that there had never existed such a weapon...and that there never would. That the God of Chaos and Death would have to be slain by more difficult means. That they would have to Sunder him, as he had the Goddess. Before Elise could press the question of 'how?!', the Knight of Cracked Mirrors absconded; leaving no trace of his presence behind. With his vanishing, the people of Goldbrook awoke...with near instantaneity. Hailed as heroes, despite their thorough trouncing, they did not linger long in the city.

Invari Lashe

Name: Invari Lashe

Race: Beastkin {Bovine} (i like beastkin, ok?! shut up!)

Title: None, yet, officially...and she can't think of one for herself (there are just soooo many possibilities!)

Age: 16

Appearance: Invari tends to draw glances due to her tremendous stature and "endowments". As a Bovine-type Beastkin, it is only reasonable that she would be possessed of ludicrously large breasts; though this still tends to draw glances from the more "mundane minded" folk of Kallore. She is undeniably large in all aspects, towering over most other mortals she encounters, standing at just under seven feet tall (more if ya include the slight rise of her ears). Being thick of limb and somewhat more slender about the waist, she does cut a certain form of feminine figure; though this is often overshadowed by the sheer expanse of her shoulders, size of her hands and cloven hooves. She once possessed a tail.

Her face is wide, somewhat rounded and possessed of slightly larger than normal features; eyes and mouth being veritably large, even for one of her race. Invari's skintone is somewhere just on the edge of being deep and honeyesque. She keeps her hair cut relatively short, small curls lingering just below her cheek; light brown, matching the liquid pools of her eyes. A somewhat flattened, broad nose sits above labrose lips, completing her, as said, rather broad features.

Invari adores gold, wearing heavy hoops through the base of her ears and one smaller through the side of her right nostril. Her attire is often plain, in comparison to most, with simple tones; and even though she tends to change clothing regularly, it is the bits of armor she wears that draws the eye from it. Golden, too, in coloration, but battered and bereft of any real shine; she wears gauntlets, greaves (altered to allow a bit of room for her hooves and a few inches above them) and a heavy collar about her neck. These are a gift from her mother, and she cherishes them greatly. She carries a heavy mace at her side (pretty ugly thing, honestly) and a tower shield on her back.

Personality: Invari Lashe has never been quick witted, nor particularly mindful of the world that surrounds her. However, this does not necessarily make her the 'slow' Beastkin that she appears the be on the surface. Invari takes her time in most things, thinking slowly and acting quickly; though, under pressure she tends to be at a loss and looks to others for directions...barring this she often reacts instinctively, relying on a 'fight or flight' mentality. She is reasonably pleasant and unerringly honest, though the nuances of sarcasm or subtlety are occasionally lost on her.

She is proud, to the end, of herself and all the things she's done and seen (though, admittedly, that's not a whole lot!) and strives to be a great warrior; hoping to earn huge piles of gold to make a comfy life for herself, the hard way. Invari has no head for Magic and is impressed by even the most simple of spells, but tends to be intensely curious about the functions of such things; be they actual spells or enchanted items. Invari enjoys meeting new people and making friends, though she can be fairly naive when it comes to the thoughts and feelings of others. Loyalty is something she prizes greatly and seeks to give to others, along with a shoulder to lean on. Despite her good nature and intentions...Invari can be greedy and impulsive where material goods are involved; perhaps even petulant, from time to time.

Affiliation: None, as of yet!

Abilities: Being particularly strong and quick. Hitting things with other things.

History: : One of Invari's earliest memories is of treacherous travel, fleeing from the Drasilian southlands with her family; fleeing flames and fangs in the arms of her mother, crying out in fear...only to be silenced with a gentle touch upon her brow. Smoke rose and screams filled the air, roars of pain and defiance as some turned to face the pack of Monsters that hounded them. She remembers glimpsing the back of her father's hulking form, an arm outstretched behind him, urging the others onward. The rest became a blur; cacophonic noise and the ground lingering just beneath her swinging feet...fear still caught in her throat...her mother's labored breathing.

Having fled the more immediate dangers of Drasil, Invari and her mother (Manishare) found their way into the Attenian heartland...to the bustling city of Yivishiin, where they would make a modest home. Time passed and those painful memories fled, along with thoughts of fear. While Manishare was a protective, even overbearing woman, Invari would often slip away to do as she pleased; roaming the streets with other displaced Beastkin, or Human urchins (when they felt it appropriate to employ her already impressive muscle) making what mischief she could, or simply lazing about. It was on those streets that she first entered combat, rather than simply hearing of it.

Manishare made due for herself and her daughter by unloading crates that came in from caravans, making certain that neither she nor Invari had to suffer discomfort while in the city. When at home, she would often demand Invari's attention; recounting more pleasant stories of the past, or telling her legends about adventurers. This is where the overbearing mother made her grievous mistake. Invari was instantly enthralled, after hearing these tales; much to Manishare's chagrin. Arguments were had, tears were shed...and forbiddances made.

Yet, on the day committed to the remembrance of her birth (twelve, was she, at the time) ; Invari's mother presented her with several pieces of armor. They were not golden, truly, but that did not matter to the girl...what mattered is how the light glinted from their surface, how her face was reflected in it; distorted by the bends and small waves that danced across the armor. She was in love. There was nothing in the world that could part her from the adventurer's path.

Since then, she has parted ways with her mother (though it took her nearly two and a half years to gather the heart to do so) and made her way into Drasil; returning to the land of her birth a stranger...with only a mace at her side, a shield on her back, armor around her neck, arms and legs and a considerable amount of strength. She wandered nigh aimlessly; until being informed of the bureaucratic nature of becoming a recognized and Ranked adventurer within Drasil.

Only recently has Invari come to Oakheim, stopping to pay her respects at the Stone of Nine before beginning her journey to Essia.

GUILDVENTURES [just look, jeez]

Shit lmao should I slap my character here? At least, the pre-gender rebalancing version?

@BeanieBaggie

yeah, i was kinda expecting you to after that whole i DIG IT thing i said. sosososososososososososososo. do it!

@MrSkelton aweeeeeeeesome~

GUILDVENTURES [just look, jeez]

@Zurnt nicely done! i dig youngest brother. ^^

@BeanieBaggie awww, that's sweet of you.

also, i might go ahead and get the ooc and character threads up today...for convenience! i'll be doing a roll (role) call later today, to see who is still ALL IN.

GUILDVENTURES [just look, jeez]

I think I'd regret it if I missed out on this. Should I just... like, I mean... make a character? Is that a thing?

@Zurnt

of course it's a thing! ; )

nobody should miss out on this! welcome and stuff!

@BeanieBaggie you've already got a slot! ain't gotta save nothin'!

heysohiwhatsup

@Mia17 i-i-i-i am not a noob! ok...fine, i am way new around here. naw, i haven't joined anything but i posted something up.

also.

{highfives}

heysohiwhatsup

@Mia17 ok! let's do that! like, right right riiiiiiight NOW! (being friends, i mean)

no way, my brain cells are super resilient! to most things!

i like a lot of different kinds of storylines, but, tbh i'm hella big on END-OF-THE-WORLD-OMG-NO-IMPENDING-DOOM-KINDA STUFF! among other things. ; )

@TTNoobs

notalotta, bc i kinda know what that means.

thanks for the welcome! it does seem REALLY LIVELY AROUND HERE! i like it, i like it lots. i don't have a problem with fan based stuff, really, but i tend to avoid it (bc...i dunno, playing with characters someone else created always weirds me out...and i guess i don't like to do oc's in worlds that have...er...you get the idea, i think!) i'll give 'em a check once i get done working on my own thing! promisepromisepromise!