Cerius

The Raiders of Norn

Yenqinor spotted the incoming undead clearly through the darkness, not a moment after he heard those voices from all around. He would crack a sly grin, revelling in the anguish of those men and women long gone, and stand his ground even as he cupped his palm upwards, a flickering ball of flame coming to life upon it. "Ha, you fools! You would challenge me!?" They probably didn't understand him, but just saying it out loud gave him that 'evil' high he relished so. With words of power forming on his lips he would launch a burning streak from his hand at the approaching group; it blossomed into a large explosion of flame that engulfed four of the undead warriors and would effectively melt the rotted flesh off their bones. They would collapse, only for one of them to arise again and resume its charge behind the other two. Yenqinor retreated a few feet and worked the fabric of the aether with his hand gestures, voicing another spell as he raised a shield of magical force in front of him, just as one of them struck with its gleaming mace which met the invisible barrier with a loud clang. An idea quickly came to Yenqinor and he clenched his fist towards one of the undeads rusted blades, inciting a simple trick he knew which caused the blade to frost over and then shatter into pieces as it also collided with the invisible barrier. The third undead swung, and he deftly backstepped the blow, light on his feet. For if he was to acquire unthinkable power one day, what good would it be if he couldn't hold his own in a simple fight?

They came at him relentlessly. Yenqinor had a dagger out by this point, having tried but failed to his sheer annoyance to down the severely burned undead warrior with a stab to the neck, receiving a nasty cut across the upper arm for his efforts. Thank Asmodeus that it didn't pierce his skin anywhere else as he thought those rusted blades could cause all sorts of complications. The invisible shield held for now, allowing him to focus them down one by one in relative safety, along with his natural agility. He conjured a ray of fire and hurled it at the damaged undead, which managed to finish it off this time and then another at the next, which somehow did the same as it split in two at the waist and collapsed. Undead flesh didn't stand much of a chance against all-consuming fire. The last one charged once again with its mace; he dropped a globe of darkness over its head. As it stumbled blindly, he shot off multiple motes of fire into the darkness with a graceful flourish, knowing that a few would hit. They did, and the mace-wielding undead stumbled back out of the darkness with multiple burns and areas of exposed bone. Yet it kept coming, albeit a little slower this time. "Here's your retribution!" He cried as he slapped himself on the chest with a reddish orange glow spreading across his torso, and with a mighty heave, he spewed forth a torrent of fire from his mouth, enveloping the undead warrior and destroying it utterly just as it closed the distance with him and landed a heavy blow on his left shoulder before going down. He veered to the right and blinked, feeling a tad woozy from the pain and cupping his injured shoulder. "Well, that just happened." He muttered to himself, attempting to shake it off and compose himself as he continued on towards the church.

The Raiders of Norn

"Your darkness beckons." So snarled Yenqinor as he conjured a globe of darkness to blanket the vision of the two goblins readying themselves to charge at him, and then burned them to a crisp with a sheet of flame surging into the pitch blackness. With a flick of his wrists he extinguished the flames around his hands as well as the darkness, and moved forth to quickly pat down the charred corpses of the goblins for anything of value. A small, silver amulet was found around the neck of one, a mere trinket. Yenqinor clasped it in his hand and smirked; that may fetch a pretty penny from the next passing merchant caravan. With a flourish of his cape, Yenqinor pocketed his lucky find and would carry on down the road. "Oh, how the weak fall." So he mused as he stepped over those blackened corpses.

He had been travelling on foot for some time now, never having taken the time to learn how to ride a horse safely and effectively. Nor did he want to splash out on a steed when there were scrolls to be bought and bribes to be made. The long, winding road leading towards the ancient ruins of Norn once he exited the mountain pass between him and his home town, was fraught with peril, yet to him it was nothing more than ample opportunity for him to hone his skills in the arcane arts, each challenge another step closer to his ultimate goal. Achieving power comparable to that of a demigod, or beyond!

Late evening swiftly approached, but Yenqinor thrived equally as well in both day and night, owing to his keen senses and ability to see perfectly well in the dark, thanks to his angelic heritage. Still, even Aasimars needed rest and even someone as power-hungry as himself craved sleep. Perhaps he would find something of use in the first major landmark he had come across since he had left the mountain pass; a large church. Seemingly deserted? But a fitting locale to search for ancient scrolls and texts that could become of use to him while performing his nightly rituals. Excellent. He drew his cape around his person, keeping a low profile, and started down towards the church.

The Raiders of Norn

He's more like a sorcerer with an almost manic obsession with idealism.

The Raiders of Norn

Name: Yenqinor

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Race: Fallen Aasimar

Personality: Mysterious, edgy, yet also a little moody and impulsive, Yenqinor is the rather dark and twisted manifestation of the ideals of fallen angelic half-breeds, so to speak. Simply put he craves power in all its forms. Whether that be through the potent combination of fire and shadow magic that he wields or rising through the ranks to the top of his religious hierachy, he seeks to perfect himself and will judge himself along with others, harshly if need be, along the way. He looks down on those he considers his inferior, while respecting without question those that have earned their place above him. He lives by a code of unwavering honour, yet he is willing to twist the rules to his benefit. He also tends to misquote sacred texts and proverbs, sometimes to humorous effect.

History: The fallen Aasimar's convoluted past is shrouded in mystery, but some know that he had served as an Acolyte to the priests of Asmodeus, the lord of tyranny. The city in which the forbidden temple was located was privy to the ongoings in that small, dark corner of the city ward, and as long as they kept to themselves with their twisted rituals and summonings, there was no undue attention to be drawn. Yet, Yenqinor always felt that his full potential was being held back in a place like this, and he craved power. That opportunity presented itself when the rumours came of a place full of riches and possibly ancient scrolls and texts that could lend him greater power, more than he could ever dream of. Dangers that he would have to overcome. He relished the challenge and chance to improve upon himself. He would leave quietly and journey to the ancient ruins of Norn.

Abilities: Yenqinor's fallen heritage grants him control over shadow itself, while his teachings under Asmodeus have granted him control over the element of fire. He is able to blast his opposition with motes of flesh-charring flame, or steal their vision and their sanity with encroaching darkness. His heritage also allows him to alter his appearance in a rather frightening manner, serving to mentally scar his foes for days to come if they somehow survive an encounter long enough.

Possessions: A red-tinted triangular amulet worn around his neck in service to his deity, Asmodeus. He carries two, wicked daggers for use in self-defence or sacrifice, and a blackened, leather-bound prayer book to allow him to perform his daily rituals.

The Raiders of Norn

Apologies for the slow reply. That is correct, along with some others he may pick up on his journey along the way and yeah, his physical abilities are pretty much below average to balance it all out.

The Raiders of Norn

Name: Yenqinor

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Race: Fallen Aasimar

Personality: Mysterious, edgy, yet also a little moody and impulsive, Yenqinor is the rather dark and twisted manifestation of the ideals of fallen angelic half-breeds, so to speak. Simply put he craves power in all its forms. Whether that be through the potent combination of fire and shadow magic that he wields or rising through the ranks to the top of his religious hierachy, he seeks to perfect himself and will judge himself along with others, harshly if need be, along the way. He looks down on those he considers his inferior, while respecting without question those that have earned their place above him. He lives by a code of unwavering honour, yet he is willing to twist the rules to his benefit. He also tends to misquote sacred texts and proverbs, sometimes to humorous effect.

History: The fallen Aasimar's convoluted past is shrouded in mystery, but some know that he had served as an Acolyte to the priests of Asmodeus, the lord of tyranny. The city in which the forbidden temple was located was privy to the ongoings in that small, dark corner of the city ward, and as long as they kept to themselves with their twisted rituals and summonings, there was no undue attention to be drawn. Yet, Yenqinor always felt that his full potential was being held back in a place like this, and he craved power. That opportunity presented itself when the rumours came of a place full of riches and possibly ancient scrolls and texts that could lend him greater power, more than he could ever dream of. Dangers that he would have to overcome. He relished the challenge and chance to improve upon himself. He would leave quietly and journey to the ancient ruins of Norn.

Abilities: Yenqinor's fallen heritage grants him control over shadow itself, while his teachings under Asmodeus have granted him control over the element of fire. He is able to blast his opposition with motes of flesh-charring flame, or steal their vision and their sanity with encroaching darkness. His heritage also allows him to alter his appearance in a rather frightening manner, serving to mentally scar his foes for days to come if they somehow survive an encounter long enough.

Possessions: A red-tinted triangular amulet worn around his neck in service to his deity, Asmodeus. He carries two, wicked daggers for use in self-defence or sacrifice, and a blackened, leather-bound prayer book to allow him to perform his daily rituals.

Elibian Nights

Name: Dominic Shaw
Title: The Bloodlust
Age: 23
Class: Myrmidon
Sexuality: Bicurious
Home: Ilia

Equipment: Iron Sword, Vulnerary
Economy: 500 gold

Personality: Moody, impulsive, hot-headed. Dominic is blunt and abrasive in his way of speech and mannerisms, with an incredibly stubborn streak; always thinking he's in the right even when he knows he's wrong, and he will refuse to give in. He also possesses a sadistic streak, something he always likes to make known in one way or another.
Alignment: Lawful Evil

Simple description: Usually wears what you see in the picture, minus the quiver. He has a scar over his left eye with two more in a cross over his chest.

Level: 1
Basestats:
Health Points: 15
Strength/Magic: 5
Skill: 10
Speed: 10
Luck: 0
Defense: 5
Resistance: 0

Growths:
Health Points: 80%
Strength/Magic: 30%
Skill: 100%
Speed: 100%
Luck: 10%
Defense: 30%
Resistance: 10%

Elibian Nights

Name: Dominic Shaw
Title: The Bloodlust
Age: 23
Class: Myrmidon
Sexuality: Bicurious
Home: Ilia

Equipment: Iron Sword, Vulnerary
Economy: 500 gold

Personality: Moody, impulsive, hot-headed. Dominic is blunt and abrasive in his way of speech and mannerisms, with an incredibly stubborn streak; always thinking he's in the right even when he knows he's wrong, and he will refuse to give in. He also possesses a sadistic streak, something he always likes to make known in one way or another.
Alignment: Lawful Evil

Simple description: Usually wears what you see in the picture, minus the quiver. He has a scar over his left eye with two more in a cross over his chest.

Level: 1
Basestats:
Health Points: 15
Strength/Magic: 5
Skill: 10
Speed: 10
Luck: 0
Defense: 5
Resistance: 0

Growths:
Health Points: 80%
Strength/Magic: 30%
Skill: 100%
Speed: 100%
Luck: 10%
Defense: 30%
Resistance: 10%

A Guild Adventure: An RP with Monster Girls! (ENDED)

Interested in this, should have a CS up and running later today.

Velorio's Downfall-Looking for Players!

"Understood, Captain." Was all Garron said in response to Vanessa's plan. He liked it. Short, simple, straight to the point. The Node with its rumours of limitless power was of particular interest to someone as power-hungry as Garron, who doesn't or wouldn't necessarily use it for 'evil' per say but his intentions and motives are always known anyway, and with the lack of protest to his command thus far, he had nothing to worry about. Vanessa was right; if they left now, they would arrive at the village by late afternoon and have it secured by evening if everything went according to plan. That's assuming it was your average skirmish rather than something else, most of the time it was. "My men are all geared up and ready to march." Explaining to the Captain where to meet him in a couple of minutes and then exiting the barracks, Garron gestured at his right-hand man to round up his battalion and bring them to the rally point on the field just outside the city.

Once there, Garron lit up a sort of joint, a special blend of herbal leaves wrapped up in thin paper and took a few puffs, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the calming sensation. A strangely intricate pattern of dark lines that was creeping up his neck, unbeknown to him or anyone else, receded back under his armour. The main purpose of the herbal mix was to suppress some of the darker, crueller urges that welled up inside of him over time due to his condition. It was sort of a gift from the local alchemist after an incident a few years back involving him and a rebel raid in the middle of the night. "Never again." He thought to himself, puffing again. Far in the distance, the sky was very gradually reddening as it neared the horizon and the blurry image of the mountain range. It was barely noticeable, but unmistakable.

@xChrome