Cubix

Darkness and Light

I've only noticed now, but in the map provided, which ones belong to territories of the light and dark sides? Or, are the dark characters just silently lurking somewhere in the shadows, but the light characters can still explore the outer edges of the map without fear of being bombarded with a hail if aether arrows?

Which brings me to another stupid question... where would be the starting points of the characters for the intro posts of each user?

Other than that, I'm revved up for this to get started.

Darkness and Light

We're gonna make it work this time around.

Luan: The Threat of Origin

Oh, dang... I wasn't able to subscribe to this thread, and the notifs aren't working that well. No matter, my intention for Azmodin was a person who had a strong conviction for his beliefs yet conversion was always waiting at the door. I was thinking that he was assigned by a high-ranking cult member to stick with the group, trying to gain more followers through conversion. Almost like he's hiding his true religion, and subtly trying to convert others only for him to be converted instead-- or something along those lines.

That, or if you have other ideas in mind, I'm also open to them :D

Oh, and I'm just waiting for the 'Go' signal for the RP to start.

Darkness and Light

Lethonel would love to have a brother like Alistair-- someone who does what Lethonel can't do, someone who is not afraid to get his hands dirty unlike the youngest prince, and someone who can finish what Lethonel started.

Darkness and Light

"Lethonel Proudsword" [+]

Lethonel Proudsword

"Every life, no matter how small, is as meaningful as every dust of gold on my father's crown."

Lethonel is a bright young prince whose chronic sickness has made it difficult for him to rise through the ranks of royalty. The youngest son had inherited much of his looks from his father with the exception of his golden locks which strangely resemble that of his mother. The lad's eyes are that of an olive green shade with short eyelashes that contradict that of his mother. His blonde hair is rarely kept in order and is often seen in a messy fashion as if the prince had just gotten out of bed. His cheeks are not that rosy as compared to his mother, taking on more of his father instead. Lethonel wears the standard prince attire above a plain white tunic: a white, long-sleeved coat with the coattails hanging freely above his rear. He also wears a pair of black pants which fit his legs snugly. His choice of footwear comes in the form of sturdy and shiny black poulaines that are not too pointy-tipped. The insignia of his family is branded on his right sleeve, just below his shoulder. While the prince respects his mother immensely, he had found it difficult to adapt her proud and stoic posture, prompting him to look the weakest out of all his siblings.

---

Lethonel Iridis G. Proudsword

"I am Lethonel Proudsword, youngest son of King Sariel, Chosen of the Moon, and Queen Lucinda, Lady of Sunlight. I have the sun and moon within me-- what makes you think I am afraid?"

14

"I maybe young but I believe that I am skillful enough to assist in my father in defending the beacon of light that is our kingdom.

Male Human

---

Allied with the Light; Youngest Prince and Distinguished Scholar of Celakor

"A world of darkness is a world of anarchy and chaos. In the same way that the flowers cannot bloom in the dark, so does life stagnate in nothing but shadows."

---

Weapons(s)

A simple, lightweight rapier that is hung at Lethonel's waist. He also hides a short dagger in his right sleeve.

Abilities/Powers

At the moment, Lethonel does not know whether he possesses any magic or whatnot even though his parents have an affinity with the magical arts. Still, the prince is insecure since it might be a shame on his part if he does not develop any abilities.

Talent(s)

Lethonel is a brilliant strategist yet not as good as his mother. He is trained in the different strategies and tactics of war, however, he only knows them by theory and not yet in real-life application. He is also a skilled diplomat as he can talk easily in negotiations and is often sent as a representative to the allies of his father. Like his mother, Lethonel has an affinity for being empathetic to the people around him; he uses this to know the needs and wants of the people which he reports to his parents. Since he has a somewhat weaker constitution, Lethonel has placed a greater focus on apothecary and medicines rather than swordsmanship or dueling. This makes him a decent healer, but he is still learning under his mother.

Personality

Lethonel is a soft-spoken prince who takes pleasure in interacting with the common folk. He is easily worn out by the affairs of the crown, and will often veer away from political discussions when possible. The prince would often escape the sight of the guards, and would prefer to watch the children play upon the busy streets, fervently hoping that, one day, he could also enjoy such simple yet soul-lifting games. He is extremely down to earth yet also painfully naïve from time to time. Due to his chronic illness (which consists of coughing and the like), the prince has an underlying insecurity and embarrassment especially towards his parents and siblings since they were all shining banners of excellence and strength. Lethonel would often try to act tough when, in reality, he is already piss-scared. The prince would closely model his mother, who he is closest to, and would often imitate how she would handle the affairs of the kingdom. From her posture to her demeanor, Lethonel would always try to follow in her footsteps. As someone who cannot extensively do combat trainings, Lethonel spends his time in libraries, reading through book after book in order to make himself seem useful. He also tries to invent new things, although most of his ideas are mere propositions. More often than not, the prince is quite picky with his food, preferring sweet meals over others, however, he does not openly show this, believing that he has no right to complain when others are starving out there in the plains.

Biography

Born as the youngest and frailest of the children of the king, Lethonel had a difficult time when it came to learning the basics in terms of manual labor. He was fatigued quite easily, and could only do so much without melting like a babe. Thus, the prince had to resort to finding his purpose somewhere else: scholarship and knowledge. Lethonel would often tear through book after book, always trying to talk to his father about every new thing he has learned... although, the king was rarely there to be able to fully listen to him. Still, he does try to do what he can, preferring to interact with the common folk since they rarely judged him even with his weak constitution. So, the prince became quite close to the masses, believing that the strength of the kingdom really relied on the people, and as such, he devoted his time to bettering the lives of these people who never even judged him once. Over the years, though, the lad looked up to the queen as a role model, seeing her as strength without the need to show off.

Pretty much, he was the weakest royal every conceived in the last few years. So, while his siblings were out fighting, Lethonel decided that if he could not excel in the field of fighting, then he would excel in the arts and sciences. The boy began to read, read, read and read! He would go to libraries since the first light of dawn and he would go home when the night had settled in. While his siblings would come home sweaty and battered, he would also come home at the same time, glasses and books in hand. While some consider the prince to be a genius, there is still a deep shadow that haunts the boy. His envy gnaws at him everyday, his desire to run, to jump and to... just have fun... were always left insatiable due to his sickness. Thus, Lethonel found his solace in handing kids his toys; the prince's eyes would well up in tears as he would look the children play and laugh, not wanting them to be lonely and sad because he, himself, knows how terrible it is to not be able to do something that you really want to do... all because of a sickness that you could never have avoided.


Extras: Will soon be added :D

Darkness and Light

Here.

Luan: The Threat of Origin

~ If you'll have me, here's my CS XD ~

Hider

Azmodin Iblis Sanenteur

"Nobody ever cares. Nobody did, nobody will. Nobody is going to grant us deliverance, but ourselves."

---

Age

22
"I do not remember much about before, but I do know one thing. I was never wanted."

Gender

Male
"What makes a monster? What makes a man? I think I know."

Race

Human
"Humanity is not about preserving the world. The real essence of being human is fighting for change to run its course."

---

Personality

Vindictive and headstrong, Azmodin's faith in the Destroyer is nigh on unbreakable yet its foundations are quite unstable. The swordsman believes that the problem with the world is the reluctance of its spineless denizens to accept change; to change at all is to accept the inevitability of death. Still, Azmodin is a remarkably calm and cool-headed individual who never rushes to violence unless his deity is slandered or, otherwise, his faith is grossly insulted. He is the type of fighter who tries to convert his enemies, trying to understand their points of views before trying to apply his own beliefs. However, his docile personality should not be underestimated because once Azmodin is hell-bent on ending the life of a heretic, he is just as powerful as any foe in and out of the aether.

Bio

As the world reeled from the mass destruction of the cosmic clash between the two primordial deities, there would always be two sides to progress: those who reaped the results of progress, and those who bit the bad end of it. Unfortunately, in the Ordan Empire, a the Sanenteur family, originally from Lyrem, were not able to fend quite well in the city of swords and arms. While the swordsmith clan were famous in Lyrem for their finest weapons, the coming of technology shook them out of business almost instantly, forcing them to depart for a city where swords and shields and traditional weapons were still favored. Then again, if one wanted to survive in a city of warriors, one needed to be able to fight for themselves, and, in this case, the Sanenteurs were not the best of fighters. In a few weeks' time, the father was slain by robbers, the mother and sister were sold into slavery into some god-forsaken territory, and the youngest son was left to fend for himself. Hungry, battered, and scorned, Azmodin, fifteen, wandered about the brutal streets of the Ordan. The lad was about to accept his demise when, suddenly, a group of hooded men and women intervened and swept him away from the merciless needles of rain.

They took care of him, bathed him, and gave him new purpose. They were known as the Heralds of Change, cultists of the Destroyer-- the so-called villain in the tapestries of history. While the Destroyer was painted as a tyrant by the books of history, the heralds saw him as the Seeker of Change, the God of Natural Order. The Destroyer's goal was not to end lives, but to renew it through a mass purification-- something that the heralds look forward to. Then and there, Azmodin was taught the most valuable philosophy of the heralds: the sufferings we experience now is due to the resistance of people to the purification. If the world wanted peace, if the world wanted true liberation, then, they needed to accept the coming of the purification, known in the cult as the Exodus; out with the evil, and in with the good. The world was ignorant to this simple truth, and thus, it was the heralds' responsibility to awaken the consciousness of the people who were drowning in the mundane pleasures of this sinful existence. Violence to end the violence. Thus, Azmodin took up the mantle of the herald, and made it his mission to awaken the world's consciousness, and to pave the arrival of the Destroyer. All in the name of the Exodus so that everyone will be spared of the sufferings of this world; so that no one else would suffer the same way he did.

As he took up the artifact blades of the cult, he had become one of the flag bearers of the Herald. The young lad was extensively trained in combat, and although he lacked the magical prowess of most cultists, he was still as skillful as any warrior. As Azmodin grew in age, he became known as the Holy Sword, bringing the teachings of the Destroyer to the violent heretics who make others suffer. Though young and, as he believed, unworthy of the holy quest, Azmodin vowed that he would liberate the world, and end its suffering. For him, for his parents, for his siblings, and for everyone who couldn't defend themselves against the horrors that are much darker than them.

---

Weapons

Heretic's Cleaver

Hider

A sword that is hung on the right side of Azmodin's waist. This artifact blade of his cult converts the user's energy into a volatile purple energy which is emitted from the sharp edge of the blade. The user can choose to launch these purple energies into bolts that can be harmful to opponents. While seemingly powerful and useful, this blade, in extended use, can fatigue the swordsman quite quickly as compared to normal use (without evoking the purple energy).

Prophecy's Caress

Hider

A sword that is hung on Azmodin's back. This artifact blade of his cult converts the user's energy into a healing essence that will rejuvenate the wounds inflicted upon the victim. In order to do this, Azmodin needs to touch the blade on the person's wound which will allow it to heal. For graver injuries, Azmodin needs to stab the sword into the wound, and there is a greater price: since the sword cannot completely heal the major injury by itself, part of the wound will transfer to the user. Again, this will exhaust the swordsman if used extensively.

Plain Longsword

Hider

A sword that is hung on the left side of Azmodin's waist. This artifact blade of his cult converts the user's energy into a healing essence that will rejuvenate the wounds inflicted upon the victim. This is a simple longsword which is used for normal combat purposes.

---

Other

Due to the weight of the three swords, Azmodin is slower compared to some other swordsmen. However, he is extensively skilled in swordsmanship and is his primary style of combat. Furthermore, the swordsman has a weakness for spicy food as well as cute things. Also, as much as he tries to hide it, the sheltered cultist is terribly bad with the opposite gender and would often tense up when talking with one.

---

Post Example

There are only three rules in the Heralds: one, protect those who cannot protect themselves; two, forgive the heretics who lash out; and three, inculcate the teachings of the Destroyer in everything you do. Thus, Azmodin tried his earnest to discipline himself, and to always keep the golden rules in his life. Discipline. Yes, such a word was needed when it came to the Ordan environment. Everything was organized; everyone had a job to do in the empire. As was in Azmodin's case, he was one of the people who would grow and transport the crops from the mainland of Ordan to the rural areas in the distances. It wasn't a hard thing to do, but it did become monotonous from time to time. The cult of the heralds were especially dedicated to such a practice of growing and moving crops, but, sometimes, the hand of fate was always tested. In an empire of warriors, people always tend to overstep their boundaries; they try to prove that the lives of others were lesser than their own. This was the kind of mentality that even the pious and docile Azmodin had grown tired of.

As the harvest came upon them, Azmodin was tasked to deliver the reaped crops to the mainland. He immediately carried out the task, trudging for days as his eyes caught sight of the silhouette of the bridge that connected the fortress to the rest of Ordan. However, as fate would put it, Azmodin's discipline would be tested. Along the road, he spotted a group of bandits converging upon a lone traveler who was apparently also tasked with bringing the crops to the fortress. Like a raging inferno, a righteous anger flared within Azmodin as he calmly walked over to the scums that made the Destroyer's vision all too plausible of a solution. As he approached, the bandits shifted their gaze from the traveler to the warrior who had made his silent appearance.

"As is Herald Tradition, I shall invoke the Destroyer's blessings upon us all." Azmodin bowed his head as he muttered a few incoherent litanies before smiling at the bandits who were all too confused. "Now, then, I would like to request that you leave this chap alone, and return his crops so that we can all go home happy."

The bandits, astonished at such a confident loser who, apparently, had a death wish, merely laughed. "You must have lost your marbles, swordie. Now, run on home before we gut you and send your innards to your mother." he heard them say.

"If you would find my mother for me, that would also be splendid." Azmodin replied as he placed his right palm on his chest, bowing to the bandits for a moment. "I implore you. Please, let us not spill blood on this day."

The bandits had enough of this nonsense. They immediately ran at him with a flurry of daggers and knives, prompting a defeated sigh from the swordsman before he gripped the cleaver's handle with his left hand. "Forgive me... for I will sin." Immediately, the sword was slashed horizontally, producing a wave of violet flames that incinerated the poor-quality weapons of his would-be slayers. The shock in their eyes was evident, causing the bandits to slowly back away as they slowly traced Azmodin's hand that was gliding over the blade to his left side. "May you be safe from evil in the afterlife." The swordsman lunged, feigning to the side as he swung the longsword diagonally, causing crimson ink to fly into the air, and paint the ground with red. Then, the other bandit tried to tackle him to the floor, but, instantly, Azmodin slashed the cleaver in the fool's direction, causing his torso to be sliced open with a blast of purple energy. The last of the trio, realizing his folly, made a run for it as he dashed back into the shadows from whence he came.

His teachings had been made. Thus, Azmodin sheathed his blades back as he turned to the hooded man who had been a victim of cruelty. "My good sir, are you hurt?" he smiled, extending his hand to the person who carefully grabbed his hand as well. Then, a rush of wind blew off the hood as the person was revealed. "A-a w-woman?"

"I'd like to--" she began, but the only thing she saw was how the valiant swordsman toppled backwards with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and his lips twisting in overlapping odes.

"C-curse b-be t-the day that... I... w-was... uhhh~" Azmodin fell to the floor as a furious scarlet began to tint his pale cheeks.

---

Running from the World

Definitely interested to join if this RP is still alive and kicking :D

Darkness and Light

If you'll have me, here's my CS. I'll edit it though since I noticed that the King and Queen will have some sort of edits as well :D I'll match my bio and other details when the details have been cleared since the Queen has the inability to give birth-- so it might complicate stuff :D

Hider

Lethonel Proudsword

"Every life, no matter how small, is as meaningful as every dust of gold on my father's crown."

Lethonel is a bright young prince whose chronic sickness has made it difficult for him to rise through the ranks of royalty. The youngest son had inherited much of his looks from his father with the exception of his golden locks which strangely resemble that of his mother. The lad's eyes are that of an olive green shade with short eyelashes that contradict that of his mother. His blonde hair is rarely kept in order and is often seen in a messy fashion as if the prince had just gotten out of bed. His cheeks are not that rosy as compared to his mother, taking on more of his father instead. Lethonel wears the standard prince attire above a plain white tunic: a white, long-sleeved coat with the coattails hanging freely above his rear. He also wears a pair of black pants which fit his legs snugly. His choice of footwear comes in the form of sturdy and shiny black poulaines that are not too pointy-tipped. The insignia of his family is branded on his right sleeve, just below his shoulder. While the prince respects his mother immensely, he had found it difficult to adapt her proud and stoic posture, prompting him to look the weakest out of all his siblings.

---

Lethonel Iridis G. Proudsword

"I am Lethonel Proudsword, youngest son of King Sariel, Chosen of the Moon, and Queen Lucinda, Lady of Sunlight. I have the sun and moon within me-- what makes you think I am afraid?"

14

"I maybe young but I believe that I am skillful enough to assist in my father in defending the beacon of light that is our kingdom.

Male Human

---

Allied with the Light; Youngest Prince and Distinguished Scholar of Celakor

"A world of darkness is a world of anarchy and chaos. In the same way that the flowers cannot bloom in the dark, so does life stagnate in nothing but shadows."

---

Weapons(s)

A simple, lightweight rapier that is hung at Lethonel's waist. He also hides a short dagger in his right sleeve.

Abilities/Powers

At the moment, Lethonel does not know whether he possesses any magic or whatnot even though his parents have an affinity with the magical arts. Still, the prince is insecure since it might be a shame on his part if he does not develop any abilities.

Talent(s)

Lethonel is a brilliant strategist yet not as good as his mother. He is trained in the different strategies and tactics of war, however, he only knows them by theory and not yet in real-life application. He is also a skilled diplomat as he can talk easily in negotiations and is often sent as a representative to the allies of his father. Like his mother, Lethonel has an affinity for being empathetic to the people around him; he uses this to know the needs and wants of the people which he reports to his parents. Since he has a somewhat weaker constitution, Lethonel has placed a greater focus on apothecary and medicines rather than swordsmanship or dueling. This makes him a decent healer, but he is still learning under his mother.

Personality

Lethonel is a soft-spoken prince who takes pleasure in interacting with the common folk. He is easily worn out by the affairs of the crown, and will often veer away from political discussions when possible. The prince would often escape the sight of the guards, and would prefer to watch the children play upon the busy streets, fervently hoping that, one day, he could also enjoy such simple yet soul-lifting games. He is extremely down to earth yet also painfully naïve from time to time. Due to his chronic illness (which consists of coughing and the like), the prince has an underlying insecurity and embarrassment especially towards his parents and siblings since they were all shining banners of excellence and strength. Lethonel would often try to act tough when, in reality, he is already piss-scared. The prince would closely model his mother, who he is closest to, and would often imitate how she would handle the affairs of the kingdom. From her posture to her demeanor, Lethonel would always try to follow in her footsteps. As someone who cannot extensively do combat trainings, Lethonel spends his time in libraries, reading through book after book in order to make himself seem useful. He also tries to invent new things, although most of his ideas are mere propositions. More often than not, the prince is quite picky with his food, preferring sweet meals over others, however, he does not openly show this, believing that he has no right to complain when others are starving out there in the plains.

Biography

Born as the youngest and frailest of the children of the king, Lethonel had a difficult time when it came to learning the basics in terms of manual labor. He was fatigued quite easily, and could only do so much without melting like a babe. Thus, the prince had to resort to finding his purpose somewhere else: scholarship and knowledge. Lethonel would often tear through book after book, always trying to talk to his father about every new thing he has learned... although, the king was rarely there to be able to fully listen to him. Still, he does try to do what he can, preferring to interact with the common folk since they rarely judged him even with his weak constitution. So, the prince became quite close to the masses, believing that the strength of the kingdom really relied on the people, and as such, he devoted his time to bettering the lives of these people who never even judged him once. Over the years, though, the lad looked up to the queen as a role model, seeing her as strength without the need to show off.

Pretty much, he was the weakest royal every conceived in the last few years. So, while his siblings were out fighting, Lethonel decided that if he could not excel in the field of fighting, then he would excel in the arts and sciences. The boy began to read, read, read and read! He would go to libraries since the first light of dawn and he would go home when the night had settled in. While his siblings would come home sweaty and battered, he would also come home at the same time, glasses and books in hand. While some consider the prince to be a genius, there is still a deep shadow that haunts the boy. His envy gnaws at him everyday, his desire to run, to jump and to... just have fun... were always left insatiable due to his sickness. Thus, Lethonel found his solace in handing kids his toys; the prince's eyes would well up in tears as he would look the children play and laugh, not wanting them to be lonely and sad because he, himself, knows how terrible it is to not be able to do something that you really want to do... all because of a sickness that you could never have avoided.


Extras: Will soon be added :D

Teen Titans: Divided We Fall

Burial or Cremation?