Welcome to Gaia! ::

Link? sweatdrop

*shuffles into corner out of generic newbie fear*

((I posted it in the other thread, too. Do we need to bump in this guild?))

Welcome, Ninja and Penny! blaugh

Be afraid. Iahhel's been retyped.




Name: Iahhel Rahan

Age: 27

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Height: 5’ 10”

Other physical features: Usually has a creepy smile on his face. Well muscled

Wearing: Black cloak, red silk undershirt, Black loose pants

Carrying: Two cold iron knives with loops at the bottom of the hilt to be connected to a cold iron chain worn around Iahhel’s waist.

Magic (If applicable): Anti-Magic. Iahhel’s clan had the unique gift of literally sucking the magic out of their surroundings. Whenever a spell or magic object comes within a certain range, Iahhel’s magic begins to drain its energy to funnel into him. He is thus aware whenever something like that does enter this space and can consciously control how much of a drain is put on. Active magic weakens and may dissipate if fully drained. Passive magic drains from the vessel. However, it may be recharged at a later time, even if fully drained; the foundations of the spells are still in place. The drain is stringer the nearer it gets to his body (or extensions. See below). Thus, if he physically touches someone, he can drain much faster than if they’re 25 feet in front of him (which is about the maximum range he can drain at. And at that range, he can’t do exceedingly much.)

The magic that is drained is then fueled towards Iahhel’s physical status, from stimulating the adrenaline gland to strengthening muscle to all sorts of other uses. He has no way to project this magic out, nor can he save it. If he doesn’t use it, it dissipates.

Furthermore, the drain can be extended through the use of Cold Iron. Thus, he is able to amplify and extend the range of his drain. While they do not act like his body and give off the aura of drain, they act as extensions of his touch. Thus, if you are stabbed by them or wrapped in the chain, he can drain you as if he were touching you.

Active or Passive: Active, of a sort

Demeanor: Sadistic. The instinctive magic drain puts most mages (and many normal people) around him on edge. He knows this and revels in it. He enjoys the unease he inspires in people. He enjoys inflicting pain with his knives just as much. He’s a sadist in every sense of the word, reveling in the discomfort and pain of others. He’s also very violent and callous, as you’d expect.

History: Long ago, the clan of Rahan lived in a remote part of the upper city. They were a powerful and influential clan. And they were each and every one of them insane. If one did not show the proper traits (i.e. the magic draining ability), they were immediately killed and fed to the hounds. Even for those children who lived, life was harsh. They were forced to work and refine their techniques and skills. They were beaten quite often to toughen them up. Occasionally they were beaten to death, but the clan tried to avoid undue loss of those who had promise of becoming full members. When the “training was finally over, every member of the clan had been left with a vast superiority complex and a sadistic taint.

They had never been immensely popular, either with other mages or with the townspeople who had to put up with their vice. Eventually, the entire city turned on them. So began the Lost battles, when the Rahan clan fought against both magical and non-magical citizens of the city. Eventually they were driven out, into the barren wastelands of the West. The West is a hard place to live. Devoid of any civilization, the Rahan were forced to fend for themselves, all while chipping away at the barrier that held them from re-entering the lands around Anthalis. Generations passed and their anger grew. Far from growing out of the cruel traits that resulted in their exile, they only began to practice them with greater fervor. Years passed and as a result of both exhaustion from lack of foreign magic and inbreeding, the Rahan clan began to die out. Eventually, they had all died, except for one; Iahhel. By this point, the barrier was weak from years of being drained. Hammering on the barrier out of frustration and anger over the loss of the clan, Iahhel picked up one of the cold iron knives that had been forged for him and threw it at the barrier.

It pierced the barrier.

Nothing major. At best, it could be considered a pinhole. But it gave him an incentive to work. Picking up his three tools, he began to work. It took him seven years, but eventually he created a tear wide enough for himself to enter the lands long denied to his clan. For three years, he wandered the countryside, causing mayhem and destruction on a whim. Never once did he directly confront the guards sent out to deal with the disturbances. Having lived his entire life without any real magical “food”, Iahhel was not yet ready to take on enemies such as these. Therefore, he caused mayhem in what ways he could, picking off wayward or exiled mages and making sure to hide the bodies until he was strong enough to enter the city proper.

No one is quite sure how he and Captain had met up. However, what is known is that the two of them do not get along. They see each other as a means to an end. Captain is far too static for the reckless, unchained Iahhel. For the first time in his life, he’s in a place where magic flows freely as water and he intends to enjoy every drop of it. Therefore’ while technically affiliated with the Arcane Underground, he tends to act without orders, sometimes even contradicting orders in order to mete out the vengeance of his clan or take pleasure in sucking the last bit of magic from a foe. He shared none of the long-term goals of the AU. If he had his way, the council members would be sucked dry, the city under his command, and the life of every citizen his to play with. Undoubtedly, there will be a time when he turns on his allies in a bid for this sort of power. However, he knows there are spell that may defeat him or reverse his magical drain abilities (though many have been lost to time, along with the history of the Rahans, who have long since been forgotten). Until he gains enough power, he will not do anything so drastic.

Allegiance: AU

Job within group: Unrest co-ordinator (strikes against council assets (sometimes without permission) and causes general problems for the council.)

Other details: An unkind nickname for the Rahan clan was “Leech”.

Had ta put this in.

Name: Jack Wraith
Age: 34
Hair: White
Eyes: Pale white
Height: 6'2"
Other physical features: None visible (see below.)
Wearing: Jack wears a crimson red cloak over his body which runs down all the way to his heels. His body is covered by a white robe with odd slits in it. From the slits, a suit of thin white plate armor can be seen, also with some slits in it. Someone with really keen eyes could note a mass of bandages covering all of Jack's body.
Carrying: Jack carries a brass revolving rifle on his back. He also typically holds a thin rapier in his hand or in his scabbard.
Magic (If applicable): Bandage control. By this, he can control the mass of bandages covering his skin, using them almost like tentacles coming out of his body. This is what the slits on his armor and clothes are for. They can be controlled much like arms and hands, but they don't have opposable thumbs, so they are somewhat limited in function. He primarily uses them to bind his targets. He can also make them into weapons by folding them so much that they become sharp to give people a paper stab or paper cut they won't soon forget.
Active or Passive: I guess this'd be more like active...
Demeanor: Let's talk business. Or else.
History:
Jack Wraith is a bizarre figure. He seems to have no past, or at least no past that he will tell. He seems jaded when asked about anything, always a wellspring of information. He is cynical at best. But the main reason for all this is that Jack is a man with nothing left.
Jack was once a happy man, with a family that cared about him, a wife who loved him, and a child of a year old. He was an expert hunter, killing boars and beasts day by day. But one day when he was dusting out the attic, he found an odd suit of armor. It was...white...and had small decorations of swords all over it. He wasn't completely sure what happened next. All he remembered was a mass of bulletholes in his family and his wife and child. They looked as if they'd been perforated. And he felt like he was choking. Then he saw stringy linen bandages wrapped about his body. But moreover, he was wearing the armor, and he couldn't take it off. He felt the mask on his face. That much he could remove. When he did, he looked in the mirror. His formerly sun-tanned skin had become pale white, his raven-black hair white, and his eyes seemed to lack pupils. He had no idea what the mask had done to him. But he heard it whispering softly in his head, teaching him how to control his wrappings. And so he turned his talents in hunting animals to hunting humans, because the whispering voice in his mind kept...on...telling...him...to.
Allegiance: No affiliation.
Job within group: Bounty hunter.
Other details: Jeez. I can't think of any.

*GLOMP* xd Yay! Im getting excited about this RP again-- more people, new and old!