Solveig von Brandt | |
 | 16 | 170 cm & 60 kg | she/her | "Improve, day by day, month by month, year by year. The only one you need to overcome…is yourself." PERSONALITY: | Driven | Inspiring | Conventional | One-track | Competitive | Spirited | | Solveig enjoys training, both physical and magical. Though she claims all she wishes is to become the best version of herself, she is a feisty opponent who enjoys contests and is given to rivalries. Even deeper runs her desire to protect, however, a past tragedy of loss haunting her. Despite that – maybe because of it – she is kind, supportive, and optimistic. In casual situations, she is usually sporting a warm, kindly smile. Yet, her ferocious manner of fighting belies any notions of her being easy going. | MAGIC: | Ignis Draconis Magia [Fire Dragon's Magic]: Calling upon powers of the legendary fantastical creature, the user can conjure and manipulate flames, self-enhance their abilities, and use transformation magic (i.e. shapeshifting). A derivative of fire magic which offers more versatility, but is difficult to master. | SPELLS:
ABILITIES & SKILLS:
GOALS & FEARS: | Solveig’s goal is to become one of the greatest Magic Knights, because she wishes to protect her home and her loved ones. She wishes to inherit the lands her father rules over, and to prove to him that she is capable of not only surviving but thriving. She strives to eliminate Devils and Devil Cults. She will not abide any who wish her family ill. | | Sol has already lost her mother. More so than not being able to prove herself to her father, she fears losing him. Solveig is also afraid that if she becomes too badly injured – or worse, dies – she will be leaving him behind, all alone. She knows it would break him. She still has traumatic memories of the demon which had attacked her home. | ............................................................................. | Solveig was born on the very southern tip of the noble realm, with the von Brandt family overseeing a small territory which extends into the common realm. While theirs is perhaps not as historied a legacy as the more central nobles, nor as rich, the von Brandts have established themselves as a respectable militaristic family, and have held some renown since about two centuries ago. A relatively recent lord – Solveig’s grand-grandfather – had met with success in mercantile business, as he’d established a reliable transportation and mercenary network. However, with the ups came the lows. Outbreaks of rebellion, strife, banditry, and the rise of Devil worshipping made for a busy time. Whether hired by commoners or nobles, or ordered on missions by the crown, the von Brandts answered the call to duty. On the one hand, this gave the family a chance to earn more fame. On the other, it exposed them to retaliatory attacks, assassinations, and made their family members prone to a shorter life span. When Solveig was born, her family was doing well, but with their numbers in a slight decline. Her paternal grandparents had taken over the business side of the family, having retired from the military. Her maternal grandparents were both commoners; her grandmother a retired adventurer who’d explored many a dungeon, and her grandfather a master jeweler. Her father Cináed had earned glory as one of the best duelists in his youth, and operates as a Magic Knight to this day. Sol has always admired him, though she didn’t see him much, as he was often away for work. In contrast, her mother Belinda, had taken an extended break from her Magic Knight duties to look after her. Many of the stauncher nobles had criticized her father for having married a commoner. These same people denounced Bel’s decision to focus on rearing her daughter. Her parents never paid mind to the stigma, however, and Sol wasn’t affected by these tensions in her younger years. If only those carefree, loving, blissful years had lasted. When Solveig was but 5 years of age, disaster struck. A Demon Cult targeted her family and her town at a time when both her father and uncle, the most powerful of the living von Brandts, were too far away to do anything about it. Houses were destroyed, stores ravaged, the streets strewn with corpses. Even so, the family’s reputation was not for nothing. Those present in the town put on a valiant fight, and prevailed. All things considered, it could have been much worse than it had been. And yet… And yet, Sol’s mother had died protecting her. That day, Solveig’s world as she knew it came crashing down. To this day, she still has nightmares. Of the screams. The scent of iron. The warm crimson lifeblood spilled, the reign of chaos and destruction. It was a horrific, terrifying event, and it made a mark on Sol’s very soul. Yet, as deathly frightened as she’d been, she determined that she’d never let anything like that happen again. And so, Solveig trained. She convinced her father, begged her uncle, roped in her cousin, hounded soldiers and guards, and finally received official tutoring. After her mother’s death, Cináed became emotionally distant and harsh, his words often cutting, his spartan training unyielding. Even as their spars left her beyond exhausted, at times even injured, Sol appreciated the lessons with her father the most, and has eagerly emulated his combat style. The type of grimoire she received was slightly odd, as it pertained to a fantastical creature, yet it was fire-based magic, a trademark of the father’s side of her family. Applying for the Magic Knight Entrance Exams now that she can is the most obvious, natural thing in the world for Solveig to do. |
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@SilverPaw The one change I'd like you to make is that, for her magic, I think we should specifically call it Fire Dragon Magic or something along those lines. There are instances in Black Clover of different "types" of Dragons (for instance the "sea god" Leviathan is obviously a water dragon). So leaving it as "Draconic Magic" is a little too open ended for my tastes. Other than that, unless there are other things you'd like to ask about, Solveig is accepted!
Based on the ages you gave, the demon attack that killed her mother would've taken place roughly 11 years ago. 3 of my current Captain NPCs would've been active, though not Captains, at that time, and you say that are father is currently a knight to the present day. Do you have any preferences on which Knight Squadron would've defeated the demon (it could've been a joint effort between multiple knight groups if you'd like), or which squad her father is still part of?
Yeah, fair enough, I can specify the magic name no problem (did not realize Black Clover did actually have dragons lol).
If Crimson Lion is still led by the fire magic royals, then I'd say her father would be a part of that. I don't have a preference on which squad(s) took out the demon though.
Ended up picking an entirely different FC (because ofc I had to find something newer and shinier), but kept the fire dragon magic thing, just for flavour's sake. The only spell I'm unsure about is the second one cause I'm not sure if there is such a thing as ambient mana.
I only know Black Clover by its reputation (loud obnoxious kid) - though you did inspire me to give the manga a go. Thinking of fire elemental magic, specifically draconic magic. I'd say the basis would mainly be creating and manipulating flames, but I'm thinking there'd be some self-enhancing spells down the line too, if that's fine. (Read: I have FCs which are humans with horns/slitted eye I'd like to make use of if possible lol.)
Sora
《 Level 1 Tamer 》
Location: Ruined Inn
“It’s Sora,” he reiterated with a smile. No one but him had been in the head space for introductions before. Now he knew that Tiny was Sephily, Blonde was Bianca, and Ryu was Sylva.
The group packed what they could, stuffing food in cloth sacks, and filling leather waterskins with water. With how laden they were with supplies; it was good that fighting wouldn’t be on the agenda in the near future.
Or would it?
They all agreed on Sephily’s suggestion for the formation, proceeding outside. The main road was straightforward; no labyrinthine twists and turns to confuse them. Even if such paths had existed, many had been barricaded.
Most of the buildings were weirdly charred. Did someone try to stem the epidemic by burning down the city?
Possible.
If there could be future burnings again…They really did need to leave quickly.
But, first things first. They came across a smithy. There was also what looked like another inn nearby, but the choice of which of the two still standing buildings to explore was clear.
Bianca did her thing. She opened the doors.
A group of zombies emerged.
Bianca and Sylva were both ready to attack. Sora withdrew his dagger too, but something gave him pause.
The bell was still ringing.
Sure, the zombies were focusing on the recently opened door right now, but…if no other noise followed, would they decide to follow the bell?
Sora wanted to try that out. Quietly, he tapped Sylva and Bianca. “Let’s move back a bit, see if the bell distracts them,” he whispered.
Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, fighting inside the crowded smithy seemed like a terrible idea. At the very least, he figured this way the zombies would follow them outside. If they were exceedingly lucky, they might not even have to fight.
But if they did, he knew at least three out of four in their party were ready to strike.
And this time, he’d be aiming to cut off their heads.
@VitaVitaAR @RolePlayerRoxas @Aku the Samurai @PKMNB0Y
Sora
《 Level 1 Tamer 》
Location: Ruined Inn
The offer to hug Tiny had been weird, he had to agree. “No, it’s just that…” Sora looked down, a somberly sorrowful expression setting in. “You reminded me of my sister,” he said quietly.
There was that word again. Setting. “Maybe,” he sighed, lacking the energy to continue the argument. He still believed their best bet was getting actual information rather than making guesses.
Getting out of the city sounded good to him, assuming the zombie epidemic was contained to this one area. “There’s actually some water barrels in the kitchen. We just need to find something to carry it in,” he let her know.
The dragon-man emerged from the cellar and revealed that he’d found a journal, letting each interested party take a look. “This almost sounds like it was a planned attack or something,” Sora frowned. Meanwhile, the hammer-lady hollered about there being booze. The elf scratched at his head awkwardly, and didn’t comment.
“Let’s try finding bags or backpacks, and get ready for travel,” he suggested.
Just then, a bell tolled in the distance, and the zombies outside began following the sound. “That’s convenient.” Almost suspiciously so, but Sora preferred to see it as a positive. “Did someone sound the bell, or is it automatic?” he wondered.
Either way, he searched around the inn for something to carry stuff in, then got into the cellar to quickly stash useful goodies into it. “Let’s hurry up,” he urged the others. If they wanted to go out today, right now was the best time to do it.
@VitaVitaAR @RolePlayerRoxas @Aku the Samurai @PKMNB0Y
Theodore Valentin
//A3 - Adventurer's district, Morning
They spent a good hour at the markets, browsing the wares, bartering the prices of the things they wished to purchase, and finally buying it all and gearing up. At the end of it, they’d spent nearly all the group’s gold, with only Theo, Ezra, and Maris benefiting with new armor and weapons. Theodore as well as his followers considered it a good long-term investment, however. The dhampir didn’t imagine they’d need to make such huge shopping trips in the near future.
The doctor had coaxed them all into buying a bit of medicine with their last gold. “You need to get patched up if you’re planning to descend into the Abyss again,” he claimed.
“Do we?” Theodore pointed at his wounds which had scabbed when he’d used his miracle the previous day.
“Listen here,” the doctor frowned at him, one of his rare moments of assertion. Well, if only when it came to his expertise, he was usually like that. “There are still bits that are bloody, and if this comes off, it’ll just bleed again. I bet you’re low on iron too, so—Let me get that medicine.”
And that’s when the doctor did his buying, surprisingly managing to get them some medicine he claimed was good for its price. The three adventurer aspirants had their wounds rubbed with strange oils, got the wounded areas bandaged, and were made to drink some very…very strange concoction.
There were a few bits and pieces the dhampir had in mind. As they traversed the markets, he and the group were on the lookout for anything they could scrounge up.
Merchants, carriers, and adventurers would at times leave empty crates lying around. Here and there, they found empty flasks – filthy, but reusable if washed. They unearthed two strips of leather just long enough to work as a sling. If they needed something more long-ranged than his spear, it’d be an option. Arnfinn collected a fistful of rocks that’d be good for throwing, eagerly presenting them to Theo, who stashed them all.
Finding a well, they thoroughly washed the flasks, using some borrowed soap to get the job done. As they proceeded through town, they’d catch any stray rats to ‘juice’, proceeding to fill the flasks with animal blood.
And so, they explored the adventurer’s district. “You three haven’t shown me where you’d found work yet. Is it any good? Feels like you’ll improve your skills there?” As they took a walk around the district, Theodore was keen to find any establishments, people, or other opportunities that’d offer training of some sort. He wasn’t entirely certain if only going to the Abyss was the best way to improve their combat abilities, or if lessons outside of that from a learned mentor would speed up the process. He also knew Sana and Jaxon both were eager to progress in their respective crafts too.
 |  Attire: A toga (over a tunic) and sandals Date and Time: Sola 24th, Morning Location: The church -> The Royal Curd Mention(s): Interaction(s): @princess Beau, Anastasia, @Lava Alckon Farim |
Next to his side, a young excitable voice declared, “I want to be just like King Edin one day!”
For the first time, Wulfric truly looked at the child. There was such powerful admiration in Beau’s gaze. How old was the boy, seven, eight? Wulfric recalled when he was that age. He had still looked up to his father then. The first inklings of doubts had perhaps started creeping in, but he had only gradually become aware of them throughout the years, and it wasn’t until–
It wasn’t until his father showed his true colours that Wulfric was disabused of all notions of his greatness.
In this one respect – looking up to Edin as a boy – Beau was like him.
How dreadful would it be if the child never learned the truth?
Wulfric lay a palm on the boy’s shoulder, and the youth almost startled, then turned around with a gasp. “Prince Wulfric?” he whispered as if he couldn’t believe that the crown prince had touched him. The child looked up at him wide-eyed, but as the royal offered him a small smile, Beau was quick to grin up at him. He became very jittery, raising onto the balls of his feet as if he wished to hop up and down but was restraining himself. The boy looked as if he might burst from the uncontainable amazement at a dream come true.
Wulfric leaned down to be closer to eye-level with Beau. He beckoned the child closer, then whispered into his ear, “You can be better.” With how loud the applause was, even the child barely heard him.
“W-what? Really?” he exclaimed, utterly thrilled, eyes sparkling with wonder.
Wulfric nodded even as he distanced himself, mirth subtly playing across his expression. The boy was about to exclaim something, but the prince placed a finger in front of his lips, hushing the boy even as he indicated that his words were a secret. Beau clapped both hands in front of his mouth, and bobbed his head rapidly. His expression shone with an indescribable happiness as he gazed up, and he did jump this time. A laugh burst out from the boy, and he flailed around strangely as he proclaimed, “Alright!”
Wulfric inclined his head, then turned to the front as he retook his seat, adopting his de-facto neutral expression with ease. “Let us pay attention, now,” he remarked. He didn’t catch it, but Beau was mimicking him, trying his best to appear serious, intense focus overtaking the child.
The king’s speech followed with pomp and circumstance. His father’s words were so familiar, it was on the level of white noise to Wulfric, so he tuned it out. Perhaps, Edin’s words today were slightly different, but the sentiment was the same.
It was always the same.
He was prepared for hours of boredom.
However, there was a change.
The doors groaned open, and a crowd started filling in. Those were commoners, but not just any commoners. They were the slummers. The homeless. The beggars. People he rarely interacted with, and people who were rarely – almost never – seen at these events.
“Hey King! We're here for the cheese!” one of them declared.
It was curious that they were here. How had they found out about the event? Wulfric knew how deplorable literacy was among the lower classes, and he didn’t take the poor as the sort of people who’d read the newspaper even if they could.
Predictably, Edin had the doors forced close as soon as he could. The empty back rows had filled, but there were still a good two dozen people who’d been forced to remain outside. They could have been let in, as there was space to stand in the back. Nonetheless, it was certain that Edin didn’t want them here.
Each of us can thrive? What about them? he questioned for the first time. While he didn’t mind welfare related projects per se, he had always let others, such as Auguste, deal with that. Whenever he bothered to think of them at all, he figured the poor were simply unlucky, or perhaps too undisciplined to succeed.
However, he had had several poignant conversations in the past few days. With Lady Saiya. With Callum. With Count Hendrix.
Now, seeing such a concrete example of a group of people being barred from a public event on Edin’s whim, he couldn’t help but wonder.
If hypocrisy could burn, his father wouldn’t just turn to ashes – he’d be eradicated from existence, not even a speck of dust remaining.
The event went on, though once again, in an unpredicted direction.
A new portrait wasn’t so strange, but for it to have been defaced?
Wulfric raised his brows at the painting, a smirk twitching into existence. He suppressed it before it fully formed. Others were less careful, and the surprise in the church was audible. The gasps were followed by interspersed laughter, some nervous, some startled, some foolishly carefree.
He heard giggling in the vicinity from Anastasia and the children. His sister went on to perform the last song, or rather, a heavily parodied version of it. It was times like these where it occurred to him that Anastasia might secretly be a genius or a master manipulator. But then, he knew her, and she was…Well, there was a reason she could befriend juveniles so easily.
Wulfric shook his head as he went back to watching the proceedings, perplexed by the oddities of children.
After the revelation of the painting, the event was cut short. Multiple royal servants began going up and down the pews, handing out tickets. Wulfric watched them, pondering.
When one of them came to their pew, he stopped her with a single hand motion. “I do not need one. Could you encourage those who do not wish or need for a ticket to leave them to you? I will ask the same of your colleagues. Can you do so as well?” She nodded eagerly.
Thereafter, Wulfric positioned himself strategically closer to the end of his pew, and intercepted any attendants who were in the vicinity, issuing the same request.
At the end of it, there were only a few who’d decided not to take a ticket. Regardless, there’d been extras initially. Altogether, it was enough to cover the remaining…peasants.
They were lingering there outside, even as the rest of the visitors had left by now. Several of the impoverished who had received tickets were nervously talking to those who had not.
“Feh!” one of them spat on the ground. “What a fuckin’ sham! Knew it was too good to be true.” He snorted bitterly. “C’mon, let’s scram, there’s nothin’ here for us,” he signaled to the others, to those who had been left without.
“Aren’t you here for the cheese?” Wulfric called out. He motioned to the servants who’d accompanied him, tasking them with distributing the rest of the tickets.
“Wha- so there is more?” Confusion abound among the group. “Is that because of Callum?” one of them whispered. “You idiot, he’s a prince–” a woman berated him.
“Callum?” Wulfric immediately zeroed in on the man, however. “He’s my youngest brother. Have you seen him?”
“Uh, nay…Your highness. There was this man,” he proceeded to explain about a rich stranger they’d met that morning. While most had cautiously dispersed in the direction of the restaurant once receiving their ticket, a few remained, pitching in with what information they had. From their expressions and posture, Wulfric noted as much suspicion as he did fear, though there was interest there too.
“I see…” he mused once he received a description of the man. It seemed this had been Alexander Deacon’s scheme. “Thank you. Enjoy your cheese,” he smirked. He signaled the attendants to accompany him, and they took the short ride in a carriage towards The Royal Curd.
The building was an explosion of gold and yellow. Wulfric had barely arrived, yet he could feel his eyes smarting already.
As he and his retinue entered, a cheese-themed waitress greeted them. By the end of this, I will have had enough cheese for a lifetime.
“They are with me. Send me an invoice, would you?” he requested. Not all of the ticket-distributors had tickets of their own, what with their little act of charity. He didn’t mind paying the fee, though it did leave him with the question whether this restaurant would ever run a profit.
Upon being received, he ventured further in. Immediately, he was greeted with a large fountain. It was meant to invoke the feeling of spilling liquid gold, or melted cheese, perhaps, but all he could think was–
Why would you build a fountain which looks like it’s spewing urine?
Shaking his head, he found the table Anastasia and Farim had chosen. “Greetings, I hope you do not mind me joining you?”
| Attire: A toga (over a tunic) and sandals Date and Time: Sola 24th, Morning Location: The church Mention(s): @Potter Kira Interaction(s): @Rodiak Nahir, @Lava Alckon Farim, @princess Anastasia |
He smoothed down his toga as he settled onto the pew, glad the seating order matter had been resolved much more smoothly than the incident he’d heard about having occurred at the Alidasht Dinner. He did not frankly care where he sat, but it was good to know that Kira wouldn’t be that close to Anastasia. Too, Ece had vacated her seat to escort and watch the intruding woman on Nahir’s orders. Now, that was useful.
Perhaps, he should arrange something similar.
However, that was a consideration for later. As Nahir had noted, the service was starting shortly.
As the music receded, a priest walked in and bid them to rise. Wulfric did so smoothly, as did all those familiar with these proceedings.
There was shuffling at his feet, and peripherally, he noticed Monet’s son crawling on the floor. Wulfric decided to ignore the child even as Beau rose to stand next to him and furtively kept glancing at him. The chanting started then, and the prince joined in.
“Zivitas, bless us with your light,” he intoned, his voice one of many. His expression was solemn and earnest despite his underlying skepticism.
Is your light anything but an illusion? Do you cherish any life but his? Do you see how he uses you to aggrandize himself?
He’d long since not been a believer as such. Even as a child, he had wondered if it was all just a bunch of stories. He could have forsaken them entirely. Instead, he heavily questioned the existence of Gods. The only thing he was certain of was that if deities existed, they were largely irrelevant to mortals, just as mortals were surely meaningless to them. Despite his doubts, he found himself holding these one-sided conversations. He practiced religious acts, not only in public, but in private too.
In the past, some of the Gods, such as Zivitas, had received much of his bitterness and resentment. Yet, at times he had intensely hoped against hope that if the divine existed, they might safekeep those rare sparks of goodness remaining in the world.
By now, however? Honestly, he was largely apathetic. His strength of belief and emotions towards them had simply been ground down into near nonexistence.
Didn’t mean he couldn’t criticize them, even if they were merely a figment of humanity’s imagination.
“Triumpheus, guide us to triumph.” Well, he would welcome it if the victory in question was his coronation.
“Imperis, grant us your justice.” This goddess, he was exasperated with. Have you any ideas of my daily struggles against encroaching chaos? …What would you deem necessary?
“Amora, fill our hearts.” Toward her he still felt discontent. What a grand fucking cosmic joke this must be to you. Laughing it up there, are you?
Aquena, Duedon, and Tempestas represented fine values, and he had no quarrels with any of the three.
“Vena, lead our pursuits.” Oh, but she should know his aspirations. Is asking for a helping hand too much? A single stray bullet is all it would take.
At the final word, there was a boom towards the back as the main church doors opened at the grand entrance of the king and the procession before him. Edin did always seek to outdo himself when it came to showy displays.
Of course, all of it served its purpose as an offering to The Altar of His Egoism. Nothing more, nothing less.
The priest, the audience, the torch carriers. The choir and orchestra, the flower girls, the golden knights. The offbeat ballet dancers with their paper-mâché Edin masks were the cherry on top of the sheer absurdity of the fervent king-worship his father encouraged. Regardless of his personal feelings, Wulfric clapped at the end of it. His claps were steadily measured and strong, resounding amongst others. He wasn’t markedly enthusiastic, but then, that was the usual state for him.
Just need to confirm, Silver, Est.
For selling off your assets, did you want opportunities for forming connections with any possible merchant, or would you rather just have that part truncated so you can move onto other things?
Missed this, and mine are sold off, and for the buying, I think just noting down prices - what goods get sold at what prices, what gear can be bought for how much, who's reputable, trustworthy, has a decent price/quality ratio works.
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