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 Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:22 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:23 pm
 
Kingdom ↠ Mars
Position ↠ Librarian
Full Name ↠ Dwayne Thompson
Nickname ↠ Ad Saxum
Age ↠ 46
Birthday ↠ May 2nd
Height ↠ 6'5"
Weight ↠ 260lbs
Powers ↡
Enhanced Stamina - His stamina has a natural boost, allowing him to partake in physical activities for far longer than the average human. He's trained and used his power so much over the course of his career and the war that he's actually not sure how long it would take for him to physically get tired anymore.
Personality ↡
While he is well known for his cocky and self assured attitude in the ring, nothing could be further from the truth. Ad Saxum is a carefully constructed façade that was meant to rile up the patrons in Mars as well as his comrades on the battlefield after being conscripted. The pressure of his mask used to make him feel a certain amount of responsibility to maintain himself, but since coming to Utopia he no longer feels quite the need to maintain his persona. While he maintains his physical appearance out of combination of vanity and responsibility, his true quiet nature and love of books have broken through.
Political Opinion ↠ Having been on the front lines himself, Dwayne has actively taken part in the worst of the war.
Biography ↡
Dwayne grew up in a fatherless home that was tight on money. He didn't have any siblings, but his mother had trouble finding and keeping consistent work to shelter and feed the pair, partly due to the fact that she was part Phronesian. Dwayne never minded much, though a good part of that was because his mother taught him to read at an early age. It was an uncommon skill in the lower class of Mars, and one that he only knew because his great grand mother was a Phronesian linguist that studied and documented several languages. Throughout his childhood, Dwayne was enthralled with the fantasy books his mother would teach him to read with and often ended up reading them several times over. His mother was proud that he took such an interest, but told him to keep his ability to read a secret.
As he grew, his mother had more and more trouble finding work until she no longer could find any. It was when they were living o the streets that Dwayne took what little money he could scrounge up and went to go bet on street wrestling. At fifteen he had only been hoping to make a little money, but the competing wrestler was a no show. Not ready to give up, Dwayne decided to do the only thing he felt he could. He bet on himself and got into the ring. He was not a fighter, though he knew how to scrape by well enough. What he was really counting on was the fact that he rarely tired and could take a punch better than anyone else he knew. It was a gamble, but it was one that paid off. He managed to win by dodging and getting back up when he was hit until the other fighter collapsed from exhaustion. With a few more coins in his pocket, he returned to his mother. He managed to win several more fights the same way as his first. By telling his mother that he was doing odd jobs for the local storefronts he would run off and make a few more coins every night. He was proud of himself for finding a way to keep a roof over his mother's head and food on their small table.
Two years later things would change. By then Dwayne had made a name of himself and people were coming to see him fight, which he was now much better at. By this time he had started to bulk up significantly, looking less like the scrawny, blond 15 year old who got in the ring for some coins and more like a proper fighter. One night toward the end of spring a talent scout happened to be at one of his matches. Upon winning he was approached with the option to go pro. Dwayne didn't particularly care for fighting, but he liked being able to have a consistent income for his mother. What he was being offered was too good of a deal to pass by after knowing what it was like to live hungry on the streets. Confessing the truth to his mother, they moved to the agent's city and Dwayne began crafting the Ad Saxum persona. It began with dying his hair purple.
Over time, Dwayne's popularity grew. His strength and pompous attitude in the ring earned him a humble fanbase that he couldn't help feeling grateful to. It was because of this fanbase that he could continue to support his mother. But that wasn't enough to hold the war at bay. It started with a letter, formally informing him that he was to report to his local military base. His mother cried, his career was cut short in it's prime, and he left. Out in the world he saw more than he ever wanted to. All of the pain and suffering, with the occasional ray of light to keep them all going. Days blended together in a horror show until suddenly there was a ceasefire. There was peace. They were to be sent home and return with a hero's welcome. Despite the fact that peace time increased the demand on the entertainment industry of Mars, he had plenty of money. He didn't need to go back into the ring, and frankly he didn't think he could stomach it. Dwayne retired. When he heard news of an academy opening to promote peace throughout the land he was instantly interested. Upon finding out that they were hiring, he decided to leave his mother in the luxurious home he had bought for her and run away from his legacy.
Likes ↡
Books/Reading
Illustrations & Fine Art
Parchment Smell
Rain
Tea
Dislikes ↡
Fighting
His Legacy
Loud Noises
Misc. Info ↡
His hair is naturally blonde, but he continues to dye it purple despite his retirement.
Theme Songs ↠ Link a motivation song here (Optional)
Username ↠ Kumako Shock
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:23 pm
Kingdom ↠ Musique
Position ↠ Gardener
Full Name ↠ Sorya
Nickname ↠ N/A
Age ↠ 26
Birthday ↠ April 24
Height ↠ 5'1"
Weight ↠ 168 lbs
Powers ↡
Personality ↡
A shy, reserved woman who cares too deeply, she has difficulty sharing her own feelings, but enjoys listening to others and trying to help them where she can. She has a quiet stubborn streak a mile long that one may not at first expect of her, the kind where she'll agree to your face and then go behind your back to do the opposite. It's probably because she comes off as so agreeable. A bit of a people pleaser, but getting less so the older she gets. She's good at keeping a straight face, but the more flustered she gets, the redder she becomes, and the worse her stutter gets.
Political Opinion ↠ Sorya would prefer to avoid politics, but knows that isn't possible. She would hesitate to say so aloud, but she fears and quite possibly even hates Luna, though she tries not to dwell on it. There is also fear of Shahiti, primarily for complicated reasons tied up in superstition and religious trauma. Every other country has done their rights and wrongs over the years, but she would say she most likes Alore and Thah.
Biography ↡
Many years ago, Alla Armoniosa was once Musique’s most commonly practiced religion, one that worshiped a long slew of gods and goddesses that encompassed aspects of the world and music itself, and promised freedom from the curse of living endlessly in the material world if one had the determination to pursue it. However, over time it gradually lost popularity until only one sect was left to quietly continue its traditions in an old temple in the mountains of Musique’s countryside.
This was where Sorya was born, her mother arriving at the temple’s doorstep half dead as she presumably fled the war drawing the world into insanity. Presumably, as there hadn’t been much her mother had been able to say before the hardship of her injuries on top of a difficult birth had her buried with the rest of the temple’s dead. Sorya was left to be raised by the nuns, for it was not unheard of for the temple to take in orphans, and she eventually would not be the only child that came to be raised by them. It was peaceful. She studied, meditated, did the chores expected of her; there were ruins strewn about the mountains left behind from the days when Alla Armoniosa shined with prosperity that she enjoyed exploring…a vegetable garden she helped tend to, crumbling statues she was told had once protected the temple. Singing rang out over the grounds at set hours, save for winter when the silence it brought was to be respected. She was happy, and she was loved.
Then, in the quiet of the cold, a squadron of Lunar soldiers happened upon the temple in their efforts to invade Musique through the mountains, and demanded shelter until the snows melted. Wishing to avoid violence, the nuns abided their presence, but they had not prepared for the winter expecting to feed this many mouths. One night, as supplies dwindled, the full moon’s gentle glow turned scorching, and screaming filled the temple as the soldiers turned upon those who called it home.
Desperate, in pain, her eyes filled with visions both real and unreal as her family’s cries echoed in her ears, Sorya dragged herself to the hall that held the only remaining guardian statue that still stood intact. The Grand Mothers…her mothers, her aunts, her sisters…so many had had an amazing innate magic regarding sound, while she had only ever had a lovely singing voice after years of practice. Some still had to be fighting for their lives behind her, while she could do nothing…nothing except collapse at the statue’s feet, reach out to touch the sacred stone, and sing out the holy scripture that was said to awaken it in times of need.
Faint with shock, Sorya would only remember blazing white eyes and large, gentle hands coming to scoop her into a tender hold before she lost consciousness. When next she woke, it was within the home of a healer in one of the little villages down the mountain. Having recognized her robes, the locals had gone to see what had become of the temple, only to find it mostly collapsed, the bodies of nuns, children, and soldiers alike buried beneath the rubble. She would never know exactly how many of those deaths were her fault.
It took her months to recover from her wounds, and when she finally stepped foot outside the healer’s house, it was to find the guardian still active, waiting patiently for her. She had known it would be, but still despaired to see it, and could not get it to cease following her as she made the trek to see the remains of her home herself. It was as she had been told, and with spring melting the snows, the villagers were able to help her recover the remains of her family and her enemies to bury them with her mother. Word was sent to the capital of what Luna had attempted with proof, and Sorya was at a loss of what to do with herself. She was the very last of her sect, with only ruins and memories to keep her company.
She remained on the mountain for some time, but it brought her no peace. She left the mountain, her guardian ever following her, and sought to offer her aid to those also hurt by the war. It did more for her than the mountain had, and then the war ended. Rumors of a utopia circulated–it whispered of peace, and Sorya so longed for peace. The academy had need for gardeners, and she knew much and more of how to care for plants, so she applied, and was accepted. Her guardian, having stayed awake and vigilant for years as the final vestige of her home, settled itself overlooking the vegetable garden, and fell back asleep as though it had always stood there…perhaps a sign that she was finally in the right place.
Likes ↡
gardening
strawberries, melon, bell peppers, rice
daisies, jasmine and wisteria
calligraphy
embroidery
tattooing
singing
meditating
bugs, particularly caterpillars, bees, rhinoceros beetles, and centipedes
sunny days
tai chi
hiking
Dislikes ↡
beets, grapes, meat
crowded places
being interrupted or spoken over
cold water and weather
night time, particularly during full moons
absence of sound
her stutter
disappointing people
making a fool of herself
Misc. Info ↡
Her singing voice.
She speaks noticeably more slowly than many, and tries to be mindful of what she says so that she doesn't trigger her stutter, or hurt feelings. The more flustered she is, the worse her stutter gets. Singing has never been an issue.
Sorya was apprenticed to the sect's tattoo artist before the massacre; she still practices, but doesn't consider herself a master, and avoids recreating the holy scripts she was expected to put on the skin of willing followers.
Precious few personal belongings survived the collapse of the temple; not that her religion encourages attachment to physical objects. Still, she can't bring herself to get rid of her best friend's favorite pair of earrings, her hang drum, or her mother figure's pewter staff.
Sorya has moonscorchings primarily on her left side, trailing from the side of her head down her arm, hip, and thigh. She has some limited range of movement in her shoulder and elbow due to these scars, and sometimes they still pain her, especially under the light of the moon.
Part of Alla Armoniosa's teachings include tenets on nonviolence and refraining from treading on even the smallest of lifeforms. Due to this, Sorya takes her pewter staff where she can, its metal rings jingling intended to scare away bugs and small animals; when she can't, she wears ankle bells.
Due to her spiritual training, Sorya can occasionally sense or see things that others may not. She largely has a non-interference policy with such things, as meddling with spirits can result in furthering their attachment to the physical world.
Theme Songs ↠
Soft Universe
All the Times You Prayed
Mothership
Username ↠ Nebula Arisen
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:23 pm
Kingdom ↠ Uilum
Position ↠ Staff (Head of Maintenance)
Full Name ↠ Marco Rivera
Nickname ↠ Marc
Age ↠ 35
Birthday ↠ February 8th
Height ↠ 5'6"
Weight ↠ 137 lbs
Powers ↡
Electricity Tolerance - Marco can handle electricity at levels the normal human body would be unable to withstand. Compared to others from Uilum that also lack natural electricity generation, Marco has extremely high tolerance.
Electricity Redirection - Using himself as a human conduit, Marco can transfer electricity from one source to another.
Personality ↡
During his work hours Marco is a serious, professional individual. He's very direct and to the point, polite when appropriate and doesn't say much outside of what's needed. It's not that he doesn't care, he just has a very matter of fact way of speaking. However, even if his outward behavior doesn't always show it he does care deeply for those in his life. Marco's sense of humor is pretty dry, so it tends to go over people's heads at first. He's quite dependable, and though he doesn't always say a lot he's always there to listen when you need it most. He's got a keen attention to detail, and picks up on when people aren't being entirely honest.
Political Opinion ↠ Marco cares little for the politics of the world around him, only paying enough attention to the things that would affect him or his family personally. While he swears to himself that it wouldn't affect his job, it should be said that he holds a small bit of resentment for those responsible for what happened to his wife.
Biography ↡
The Rivera family lived in the town of [undecided] in Ulium. The oldest of four, Marco was brought up from an early age to help his family make ends meet and set a good example for his siblings. It was through their struggles that Marco had a desire to work instilled in him, wanting to one day be able to afford better for both his household and one day himself.
As an adult, he found himself getting a job at the local factory. Marco's abilities made the grueling work hours at least a little bit easier, as production skyrocketed for various weapons and materials for the warfront. Eventually, an opportunity arose for him to work directly at one of Uilum's military outposts near the village of Venoclan with the promise of increased pay. Despite being wary at first, the hope that he could truly earn a sustainable income got him to accept the job.
Working conditions were less than ideal, with the staff there continuously forced to work hours far beyond what was initially proposed to them when they were being hired. Marco struggled with this, but nonetheless continued as they did deliver on the payment they promised. This helped out his family a great deal, but it wouldn't be all positive changes. Overworked and sleep deprived, numerous accidents befell the factory. Marco was caught in one such incident, losing most of his right arm in the process.
While his body was in shock, his life was saved by the quick thinking of a nurse by the name of Manon. He would see her often from then on, as his prosthesis took a long time for him to adjust to. Moreover, not even his increased income could afford him anything more than the most basic of prosthetics. As such, it required tuning and recharging often. It took him a few months to admit to himself he'd fallen absolutely in love with her, and another month from there for his numerous attempts at confessing to work. He'd never been in a relationship before, never gave himself the time. But spending time soon became the only time he counted, and she ended up reciprocating his feelings.
Getting married a year later, Marco continued to work at the factory for a while once he recovered enough. Together, they had been able to find a place for themselves back in Venoclan as his family overall had gone to a better spot financially. Another year past and Manon found herself with child. Marco was overjoyed to start a family of his own with Manon, and was deeply saddened by the loss of their unborn child from an attack. Supporting his wife as best he could, the pair moved closer inland.
After the war's end, opportunities to work for the Utopia Academy came up and Marco applied along with his wife. Having picked up a lot of experience in his years as a factory worker, Marco impressed well enough to get a job as the head of the school's maintenance division.
Likes ↡
Dislikes ↡
Sloppy work
Dirty Dishes
Sunflower seeds
Misc. Info ↡
#6e958b for speech and thoughts
Marco was originally right-handed, but his prosthetic is not advanced enough to perform finer tasks such as writing. As such, he has learned to use his left. It shows.
When prompted to provide a signature, or otherwise not specifically asked to write his full name, he will put down M. Rivera. This has made things very confusing at times.
Marco's prosthetic can be attached and removed along the bicep. He also has a various amount of attachments that he can exchange the main arm with.
His prosthetics aren't optimized very well, and so they require frequent recharging.
Theme Songs ↠
Evangline
Blue Collar Man
Shine
Someday I'll Be Saturday Night
Dinah (Take 2)
Username ↠ Beyond The Time
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:23 pm
Kingdom ↠ Shahiti
Position ↠ Gardener/Landscaper
Full Name ↠ Matthew Harrow
Nickname ↠ Matt
Age ↠ 45
Birthday ↠ 05/20
Height ↠ 6’2
Weight ↠ 140 lbs
Powers ↡
Throw Bones - Matthew uses animal bones carved with runes to make divinations.
Smoke and Mirrors - Matthew uses tricks of light and shadow to create illusions that seem real and can be touched and interacted with.
Personality ↡
Matthew is a little neurotic and antisocial and he had a tendency to overreact to things and behave recklessly and selfishly. However, being outside and around nature helps to calm him and keep him balanced. He suffers chronic pain, but is nonetheless a very hard worker. He self medicates and it makes the pain, and the presence of others, more bearable as well as quieting his more dangerous urges.
Political Opinion ↠ Matthew does not much care for politics but he has bad memories of his time in Uilum and Phronese.
Biography ↡
Matthew was born in Shahiti to a fur trader and his wife and he spent his formative years learning his father’s trade. He learned to track, trap, and hunt beasts, learned how to skin them and treat the pelts, and accompanied his father on trips to trading posts to offload their merchandise.
The boy was content to follow in his father’s footsteps, but his father did have concerns. Matthew was a somewhat sickly child that often complained of headaches and nosebleeds and, while they were managing his condition, his parents were not convinced that it was feasible long term for Matthew to take up his father’s vocation. Matthew’s parents hired a tutor when the boy was fifteen in hopes that with a proper education he could improve his lot.
At first Matthew was resentful, but the tutor his parents hired was a kind young man, only eleven years older than Matthew, who gently coaxed him into trying new things. Matthew would travel to the home of William, his tutor, for a few hours each day where he would learn not just the basics like reading, writing, and arithmetic, but also he was taught about art, music, culture and history. This time was also when he gained a budding interest in gardening as he would help William attend to his garden.
Slowly Matthew’s attitude changed from resentment to admiration and eventually attraction and when he turned eighteen he could no longer hold back his burgeoning confused feelings. He confessed to William who gently turned him down, unwilling to compromise his ethics despite his fondness for Matthew. Matthew briefly panicked, expecting to be judged harshly for his attraction, but William calmed him and even encouraged him, though cautioning him about openly expressing interest in other men.
For a couple of days both pretended nothing had happened until one day Matthew’s parents came to him in a rage, forbidding him from seeing his tutor again. The man had a housekeeper who had overheard Matthew’s confession and relayed the encounter to his parents. Matthew insisted there was no reason to cut off his tutelage, citing William’s refusal of his feelings, but his parents would hear nothing of it. They found another tutor for their son and closely monitored his comings and goings as well as his correspondence to make certain Matthew respected their wishes.
By the time Matthew was twenty five, he had managed to secure a well paying if not exactly glamorous job as a bank assistant as well as an apartment in town proper and his parents began talks to arrange a marriage for him. Matthew railed against these efforts, insisting that he could feel nothing for the girl or any woman. Arguing ensued and William was brought up, his parents accusing the man of corrupting their son's morals. Made even more livid by the false accusation and the loss of a man he had considered a friend if nothing else, Matthew had had enough. He packed up his belongings and abandoned his family, position, and home.
Matthew struggled for a bit, bouncing from odd job to odd job until he met Julian, a handsome and influential man a couple of years older than himself. Julian was a man of Uilum and everything about him from his clothing to his mannerisms to his grooming seemed striking and very alluring to Matthew. He caught the man’s eye unintentionally and they hit it off instantly, Julian soon insisting that Matthew come with him on his travels.
Julian was openly homosexual, a concept that seemed foreign to Matthew but allowed him to relax and feel safe with the man. And in turn he was willing to do anything for Julian, including using his ability to throw bones to assist the man in his business ventures. He began to live a glamorous life, eating fine foods, dressing in fine clothes, and attending lavish parties where he was shown off like a trophy, though he never fully realized it. Matthew believed they were in love, but in truth Julian was using and controlling him, treating him like any other piece of property.
Over time Matthew began to see the seedy, less than legal side of Julian’s business dealings and it made him very uncomfortable. He wound up gravitating toward Earnest, a business associate of Julian’s who seemed as uncomfortable with the proceedings as he was. They would avoid Julian’s meetings and converse with one another instead, forming a fast friendship. Earnest was kind to him and in time affectionate, his attention contrasting starkly with the increasingly more controlling and abusive behavior from Julian. Dissatisfied with his failing relationship, Matthew broke free and left Julian to be with Earnest instead.
Earnest took Matthew away to his home in Phronese and for two years they were happy together despite having to keep their love a secret. On the surface, Earnest was a married man and Matthew was just a close friend who found work in a local office. But eventually Julian caught up with them and he did not come alone. Strange men broke into Matthew’s apartment and dragged him and Earnest from bed, beating them both viciously. Earnest was mutilated and hung from a tree with a note exposing his relationship with Matthew pinned to his chest. Matthew, given the option to return to Julian and be forgiven or remain and face the consequences, spat in his ex-lover’s face and suffered further beating for his troubles.
Matthew could barely remember getting away from that place, but he remembered the mutilated body of his beloved hanging for all to see and mock. It left him scarred both physically and mentally and the once kind man began to lose himself to his grief and suffering. He began to harm himself and behave irrationally and recklessly, endangering himself and others.
Despite an ardent death wish, Matthew continued to survive. He returned to Shahiti where he joined the war effort as a mercenary. He primarily used a combination of his tracking skills and his divination ability to locate enemy troops and his illusory ability allowed him to quickly blend in with his environs or even hide several others with him. He became known for being able to hunt and kill anyone without ever being caught for the right price.
The war gave him an excuse to keep moving and the opportunity to throw himself into danger time and again, but when peace came to Lomacht Matthew was lost. He had nothing left to pull him back from the void. Feeling empty and adrift, Matthew made his preparations with such solemn and single minded methodicalness that he never even realized when he was approached by a woman with a dour but concerned expression.
A woman that he knew, thought it took a moment for Matthew to recognize Countess Ebony Way. Matthew wasn’t certain why he stopped and listened, though he has since chalked it up to Ebony being a kindred spirit; an exceedingly rare find for him, particularly at that point in his life. She invited him to her home where she served him tea, spoke to him gently, and cajoled much of his sad tale from him. For the first time in years Matthew allowed tears to slip from his eyes as he admitted that he had fought in the war because he wanted to die, yet he hesitated to bring about his end himself. The countess was understanding and kind and encouraged him to find a new purpose. At first Matthew thought the idea was entirely hopeless, but as he contemplated the countess’ words he wandered into her garden. For just a moment he was transported far back to a much more innocent time in his life and he did not want to leave it. And so Matthew remained on the countess’ estate, caring for her garden until she received an offer of employment from Utopia Academy. When Ebony encouraged Matthew to join her, he agreed.
Likes ↡
Animals
Coffee/Tea
Cooking
Quiet
Solitude
Rain
Gardening
Drawing
Dislikes ↡
People
Loud noises
Hot weather
Being cooped up indoors
Too clean/sterilized places
Sleeping/Dreaming
Vegetables
Tight/restrictive clothing
Misc. Info ↡
Matt has a wide scar above his right eye and several scars on his forearms. His left forearm also has a tattoo under the scarring. His right iris is permanently ringed in red. He suffers chronic pain on the right side of his face and suffers frequent nosebleeds. He is severely underweight, but his appetite has been returning in recent months.
Matt is proficient in the use of bows, crossbows, and bola and also at setting traps.
Theme Songs ↠
Username ↠ Chandra Panesar
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:23 pm
Kingdom ↠ Stilicidium
Position ↠ Doctor
Full Name ↠ Eko Sitompul
Nickname ↠ N/A
Age ↠ 30
Birthday ↠ November 7
Height ↠ 5'8"
Weight ↠ 179 lbs
Powers ↡
Cleansing Light - Eko can summon swarms of light in the shape of butterflies, birds, manta rays, and even whales, the touch of which can purify water, boost a person’s immune system, reduce pain, lighten moods, physically lift a person, and even heal illness–but he must be feeling some measure of joy in order to summon enough to perform such miracles.
Double Edged Water - Eko can manipulate water, but only in smaller quantities, as it drains him too much too quickly to move more than a jug’s worth at a time. He can use it as a weapon, or a tool to heal physical wounds, and has learned to use it with such precision that he can safely manipulate the liquid in a person’s body if need be.
Personality ↡
Eko is a weary man who would like to stop caring, but somehow tends to find himself doing so anyway. He curses himself for his empathy with those who are troubled, and tries to wall off his compassion from those in need of it, because caring for the people he has left is already too draining, the knowledge that he’ll one day lose them, too, just too great a weight to bear. Sequestering himself away to smoke and drink and work is easy, pushing others away is easy, sarcasm and biting humor is easy. Hatred and anger are old friends that visit too easily and too readily. Some days it’s only sheer spite that gets him moving out of bed. Some days even that’s not enough. Because happiness is hard, and temporary, and harder for the loss of it.
Political Opinion ↠ Eko despises all who would claim Thah as their home, and Funkazan isn't much further down on the list of things he hates. He hasn't had much experience with the rest of the world, but he's found Mars to be worthy of respect for their ferocity in battle, while Corthyr fascinates him. He honestly hasn't given too much thought to the other countries involved in the war.
Biography ↡
Eko was born on the mainland in a small village that sat above the Arborek River in houses that towered over the slow currents on wooden stilts. His parents were the owners of a sleepy little inn that saw just enough customers to keep them afloat, and they lived there with him and his little sister, Mega. Even with the war reaching a fever pitch, few were concerned about it coming to their doorstep; they were too far inland from the border, and had little more to offer than fish, so surely they were a low value target.
The realization that they were wrong came about too late in Eko’s ninth summer, when a stranger arrived looking for a place to stay for the night. He was welcomed into the inn, and was subject to many curious questions from the siblings that he handled with good grace until their parents shooed them away. Bored, Eko and Mega headed downriver to play with their friends well into the afternoon.
A game of catching fireflies was interrupted by a great rumble, and the river abruptly rose over their heads before plunging down to their ankles. The once crystal clear water ran brown with mud and debris, and the children looked upon it in dismay. The Arborek only fell this low during drought, and never so quickly; something was wrong, but what? At a loss for what else to do, they began to hurry home when the boy furthest ahead of the group let out a gut wrenching scream. They all watched in horror as bodies gently bobbed toward them in the shallow water, limp and wounded more terribly than Eko had ever seen before. More children cried out as they recognized friends and family, and with dread building in his heart, Eko dragged Mega the rest of the way to the village to find a dam of rubble and debris where their homes once stood. He would have rushed to the remains to try digging his parents out with his bare hands if another scream hadn’t risen up.
Eko looked up in time to see his friend Perak get crushed beneath a great rock, his scream cut short. There were more cries, and the children scattered into the jungle surrounding either side of the river, Eko and Mega among them. They grasped each other’s hands tightly as they ran as fast as they could, the dying screams of their friends echoing out all around them. Mega was sobbing too loudly, stumbling clumsily over roots and foliage. Eko’s terror rose. They were too slow, too loud, they were going to get caught, crushed like Perak, they were going to die–
Then Mega tripped, her hand slipping from his, and for two seconds Eko thought he could leave her, he could run faster without her, he could hide, he could live–
And maybe he would have if he hadn’t heard people walking through the underbrush. Hauling his sister up to shove her beneath some of the thick vegetation, he clapped his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, though he was frightfully certain their rapid heartbeats would give them away. The men drew nearer and nearer until they were nearly on top of them, and Eko hardly dared to breathe with them so close. Then the greenery parted to reveal a familiar face looming above them. The stranger from earlier that day.
His gaze locked with the stranger’s. That should have been the moment they died, but instead the stranger only lifted a single finger to his lips, and let the leafy foliage fall back over the siblings. They waited, hearts in their throats, as they listened to the stranger speak in a foreign tongue to the other men, drawing them away from their hiding spot. For hours afterward, Eko couldn’t bring himself to move from that spot.
Dawn was near the horizon when he finally felt it safe to leave, shaking Mega awake and beginning the trek to the nearest village. Later, he wouldn’t be able to recall much of the journey; not of how long it took or what route they traveled, but only of Mega’s hand clinging to his own, of refusing to let her go. He was too shaken for hope, but he had thought they would find help, adults who could make sense of things, only to arrive in the next village too late. Soldiers–Thah soldiers, as Eko would later learn their garb identified them as–had already passed through before them, leaving only more death and destruction behind.
One bit of good did come of their arrival, however: they had the luck of reuniting with his friends Zafar and Kartini, who had also managed to escape the slaughter. Together, the four of them headed deeper into Stilicidian territory until they finally found a village that remained untouched by violence. It was there that they relayed the news of the attack, and word was sent to the nearest Stilicidian military outpost to investigate the claim.
As it turned out, the military was already well aware of the attacks, and were struggling to push the invaders back to the border. With danger so near, it was determined that it would be safest for Eko, Mega, their friends, and other local children to be escorted by wounded soldiers to a city off the coast. They were far from the only ones fleeing slaughter on the road, and as soon as the four were dropped off at an overcrowded orphanage, it felt as though the world had forgotten them.
It was an enormous adjustment, living in that orphanage. No longer did they have a stable community to depend on for food, clean water, and a roof over their heads; instead it became a constant struggle to keep just one of their number warm and fed, even more so all four. The war was flooding their new dwelling with displaced children while in the same breath draining the area of resources, and though Eko had been raised to condemn stealing, he quickly wound up resorting to it to ensure his sister’s wellbeing. It was an uphill battle to get good at it, but he had Zafar and Kartini to watch his back, and together they ran rampant on the streets with few adult eyes to supervise them. It wasn’t long before other children saw their success and began to flock to them, offering up skills, knowledge and resources to increase their own chances for survival. They banded together with dozens of orphans to form a gang that looked out for their own, and it was likely due to this that Eko survived the perils that he watched take the lives of other, less lucky, less connected children.
However, what truly made them successful, what helped support the fastest and largest growing gang of youths in the city of Panmerah, was a secret Eko had once sworn to his mother he would never show his father: when he was having a good day, he could summon creatures of light that warded away sickness, both of the body and the mind. When plague broke out within Panmerah’s walls, it was his people who suffered the least amount of deaths, and people took notice. Word began to spread. Infants and the elderly were brought to him, and initially Eko turned them away, distrustful and uncertain…until Mega urged him not to, her heart still soft and open where his was hardening and closing off. Reluctantly, he and the others allowed these outsiders in, though sometimes Eko had to turn them away regardless when he could not summon the light creatures no matter what rituals he thought to conduct. More and more he found it twisted something inside him to have to tell people no when they came to him for help, and he sought out a local salt priest for a solution.
Eko may not have been very familiar with the coastal religion popular in Panmerah, having been raised on freshwater, but it was certainly less alien than the folk who worshipped such things as the Deep Ones, and it was in the Salthouse that he met Lamarr, a practical man who interrupted his argument with a more zealous priest. Lamarr listened to his concerns about the fickleness of the spirits he could summon, and through many more conversations over the following days, showed Eko that what he summoned was of his own heart, his own soul, and not the spirits whose stories he had been raised on. “Your body was shaped by the water, but your heart reflects sunlight,” the priest told him as he measured the lines on Eko’s palm, before warning the boy to be careful who he shared this information with. The world was at war with itself, and did not take kindly to those with mixed blood.
It was only then that it occurred to Eko that either his father may not have been the man who sired him, or his mother was not who he had thought she was. It haunted him for weeks as he went about his daily life doing odd jobs, looking after his people, and visiting Lamarr to learn how to heal torn flesh with gentle water. Eventually, he settled on the fact that the truth of his birth mattered little when the people he knew as his parents had been good ones, and now lay buried in the river they had raised him on.
His tutelage under Lamarr’s wing came to an end when the priest learned that his light spirits purified even the most holiest of substances from water, and while the man could admit this was good for creating safe drinking sources, it went against the principles of a salt priest. Eko still had a friend in him, but not a teacher, and was left to explore his magic on his own from thereon. He continued to take in those who needed healing, accepting whatever method of payment they could provide, whether it was coin or a good joke, or rice or a favor. He understood well the pain of having nothing, and could not bring himself to take more from those who suffered much the same as he did, though he would not reject what they gave him. He viewed it more from a stance of practicality than kindness, but many others did not; they paid his kindnesses forward, and the reputation of his gang softened. They still did what they had to in order to survive, but they helped others where they could, and few messed with them when so many had found themselves or their loved ones experiencing the touch of his cleansing light or healing water.
Yet, through all this and the subsequent years, as he and his friends worked to make life better, the war never strayed far from their minds or their lives. Thah’s damming of the Arborek–the erasure of their home–could not be buried nor forgotten, only set aside as they were distracted by more immediate concerns while the war largely stayed beyond the walls of Panmerah.
Until it didn’t.
Thah was attempting to push Stilicidium back into the sea, and Panmerah was one more city put under siege. Eko was just shy of enlistment age, but when he saw Zafar and Kartini get recruited to fend the enemies off, he couldn’t simply stand by and watch. Those in charge didn’t ask twice when he told them he was eighteen, and suited him with ill-fitting armor and weapons before giving him a post at one of the city gates, which may have been what saved his life as Thah soldiers joined their earth magic to make the city’s foundations collapse. Panmerah’s militia fought back, drawing the ocean to their side, but it was a losing battle, and Eko bolted to find the ones he loved most. The air was awash with screaming and wailing, but he managed to find Mega, injured but alive, as well as a number of gang members who were gathering as many survivors as they could to evacuate the city. Though his fighting experience was low, Eko escorted them out to the beach, gathering more militia members along the way to protect them, and reuniting with Zafar and Kartini. Many simply walked or dove into the waves, capable of surviving underwater, while the rest found what boats they could to push out and hop in.
The problem was that the only one among the Arborek children who could breathe underwater was Kartini, and Thah soldiers were gaining on them fast. To buy everyone else time, Kartini stayed behind to hold off the enemy while Eko and Zafar got their borrowed boat beyond Thah’s reach. Their hopes that she would catch up to them were dashed when they watched her die on the sand she stood upon, slaughtered alongside her fellow Stilicidians who had joined her in defending the survivors. Eko’s bitter tears slipped into the sea for days afterward, all his rage and despair rushing back in a tidal wave of heartbreak he could no longer set aside. When they arrived on the island of Wēconati, he and Zafar made a pact to get back at the Thah dogs that had caused them such grief. They would join the King’s army, and fight back in the name of Kartini…in the name of Panmerah and Arborek, and everyone they had lost.
The prospect of leaving his sister behind was a painful one, but once they were sure Mega was settled with their most trusted people, Eko returned to the mainland with Zafar, where they joined the military. They went through a couple weeks of rushed training before they were sent off to join the troops that were steadily pursuing and pushing Thah back toward what had once been their borders. Eko was quickly positioned as their squad’s healer while Zafar proved himself one of their best warriors, tall and broad enough to take on all of Thah himself.
With orders to hold the border as best as they could, Eko watched the push and pull between the two nations first hand, with long periods of tense boredom punctuated by fierce, brutal combat. He played cards and got drunk more often than he would ever care to admit for lack of anything better to do in the midst of waiting for Thah’s turn to come, but at least it wasn’t in bad company, as he largely got along okay with his comrades. When the occasional skirmish or ambush occurred, he took a reasonable amount of gladness in killing Thah soldiers, but it was far from the glorious quest for vengeance he had always imagined it to be. Rations were tough and tasteless, there was too much waiting between battles, dysentery took out more soldiers than their enemies did, and the fights themselves snuffed out lives as quickly and easily as one blew out a candle. He could find no joy on the battlefield, and thus could only count on water that killed more than it saved.
Two years into receiving orders to maintain the border, a routine patrol yielded an ambush by more Thah soldiers that took the squad by surprise. They struck from below, crippling their horses, and burying half their number. Zafar wound up pinned beneath his own steed and a curtain of rock, begging for help or relief, and Eko tried to tend to him as his comrades bought them time, but he quickly realized there was no time. No time to dig him out, no time to heal him, no time to escape, and Zafar…Zafar saw it in his face.
“You have to run,” he urged, “get the rest of our unit.”
“I can’t leave you,” Eko insisted, and Zafar choked out a laugh.
“S’all right, I’ll be here when you get back.”
Eko and what remained of his squad fled, reuniting with their unit along the way, and returning to the scene of the ambush as they overran their enemy. Zafar was right where Eko had left him, but it was too late, and Eko felt as though every half way healed remnant of himself shattered all over again. He went through the motions for years, the only thing keeping him from following after his friends and family being the few letters he received from Mega, who remained safe and sound in Wēconati, falling in love and talking of starting her own family in spite of the horrors happening all over Lomacht. Eventually, as things fell into another stalemate, he was called for reassignment at the front lines against Funkazan, where the environment was drastically different from what he was familiar with. People died in new, brutal ways, but there were far fewer things that reminded him of home, or made him think of those he had lost. It was simpler, easier, to focus on merely surviving, healing his allies, and ignoring the nightmares that plagued him in his sleep. He spent a great deal of his time smoking and drinking when he wasn’t tending to steaming, screaming patients. His water ran red, and too many died under his care from infection alone while he began to flinch away from the heat of the campfires. The war seemed endless.
Yet, end it did, and Eko could hardly remember the last several months he spent on the battlefield. All he knew was he was tired of fighting. Tired of all the blood and pain…and still so angry. So angry he was sick with it, and tired of being sick. He returned to Wēconati to find his sister waiting for him, married and pregnant with her first child. Her husband was a man he had known growing up in Panmerah, one of several people who had promised to look after Mega, and Eko could only be grateful that he had stuck true to his word. She had remained safe and happy without him for years, which was all he could have asked for, and more than he had feared. They brought him into the fold of their new community, where he reconnected with old faces and met new ones. He learned that what remained of their gang of orphans were doing their best to give back to the island that had provided them with so much, bettering the slums, looking after their neighbors, taking in displaced children…they were building a good life for themselves, and Eko couldn’t help feeling left behind.
It was Mega who noticed his increasing restlessness first, and after many late night conversations she suggested he return to his roots: start with Panmerah, and help people. Anyone. Everyone. The war had only just ended, and healing and reconstructing was only just beginning; he ought to find purpose in healing those who couldn’t find or afford a decent doctor, and the more he thought on it, the more the idea appealed. One day he bid goodbye to his sister once more, kissing her on the cheek and promising to keep in touch before setting sail for Panmerah.
Stepping foot on the beach where Kartini had her last stand, he found the city was in the process of rebuilding. Some who had survived the slaughter by hiding in the waves had remained for all these years, making their home amid the rubble, and among them was the salt priest Lamarr, who welcomed him warmly into his much more modest abode. When Eko admitted to being there to provide whatever aid he could, Lamarr gladly introduced him to his neighbors, and then their neighbors, and their neighbors’ neighbors. As he had done so many years before, Eko accepted only what he was given in exchange for his work, and found himself well liked for it. He was given home cooked meals, iridescent seashells, and stories that shocked laughter out of him, but the payment he valued most was when he was shown to the mass grave that had been hastily made for those who had died that last day of the siege. There was a plan to finally give everyone within a proper burial, and volunteering was like sucking in a breath to hold. He labored with the locals for days, digging up every body, and searching for anything that could distinguish Kartini from the others. He found Stilicidians buried alongside the Thah soldiers that had killed them…or were killed by them, told apart only by the style of their clothing, and sometimes not even then…
By the time they exhumed the last body, Eko still had not found Kartini. He couldn’t be certain if she had been one of the many unidentified souls who were too decomposed to make out facial features, or if her body had been lost to the elements before it could have been buried, but one thing was clear: there was nothing left in Panmerah for him. He lingered for only a few days more before quietly departing in the middle of the night to avoid saying goodbye.
He journeyed through Stilicidium’s mainland for months, offering his services to anyone who needed it, regardless of status. Many of his patients were bandits that tried to accost him during his travels, or veterans returned home from the war, or elders who had injured themselves trying to maintain their empty villages, or children who had taken on too much responsibility in the wake of their diminished communities. Again and again, he was asked to settle down and stay at one town or another, and again and again he declined, his restless legs carrying him farther and farther from the coast. The farther he went, the more he encountered folk who were on the road same as himself, seeking out better lives for themselves in a utopia crafted out of the shattered remains of the war. It stirred his curiosity, and his feet began to make their way there without him quite realizing what he was doing until he was there.
In his experience, healers were welcomed anywhere, and Utopia was no exception. However, he was unaware that his displayed skills were garnering him attention from higher up than he was accustomed to. Soon someone approached him, offering him an awful lot of money and access to more education if he worked for an academy that would be hosting a wide variety of incredibly powerful folk.
The money was too good. He accepted with the notion that he could more actively support his sister and her new family.
Likes ↡
Smoking and drinking
Books and storytelling (and gossip)
Spicy food and oranges
Unusual ailments
Reptiles
Dislikes ↡
Everything to do with Thah and Funkazan
Coerced socializing
Feelings, and talking about them
Shellfish and pineapple
Puns
Misc. Info ↡
Eko has a tattoo of a snake consisting of spearheads, lizards, and enata, with the length of its body curling around his bicep to have the head resting over his heart. The tattoo on his head was meant to resemble crocodile scales, but he and the tattoo artist may have been extremely drunk while it was being done.
He’s proficient with the dahong palay blade, and butterfly knife.
The scar on his face was gained when he lost Zafar. To this day he is unsure how the wound happened, but he was certainly in too much shock to tend to it properly in the days that followed.
Theme Songs ↠
Achilles Come Down
Third Eye
Erase Me
Username ↠ Nebula Arisen
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:23 pm
Kingdom ↠ Funkazan
Position ↠ Cook
Full Name ↠ Michelet Fourcaud
Nickname ↠ None, if you ask him (He will sometimes answer to Michy)
Age ↠ 26 years
Birthday ↠ January 11
Height ↠ 6’2
Weight ↠ 250 lbs
Powers ↡
Animal Spirit Companion - Michelet has the ability to capture the spirits of deceased animals and call upon them to aid and defend him. He can summon up to three spirits at any given time. The power level of each spirit is independent of his own strength though he can strengthen them through ritual.
Fire Manipulation - Michelet can generate, shape, and control fire. He uses precise movements of his body to better control his flames. He cannot control large fires unaided, though he can slowly extinguish them.
Personality ↡
Michelet has always had a chip on his shoulder. He is slow to warm to others and makes no real effort at niceties. He can be very dismissive and unfeeling. However he is not normally a disruptive presence when left to his own devices and is more inclined to help than to harm. He sleeps very little and is prone to wandering at night, seemingly in a trance. He carries the scent of spices, earth, gunpowder, rum, and occasionally blood and the flask he carries on his person is always filled with rum.
Political Opinion ↠ Michelet has strong, patriotic feelings toward Funkazan and, to a lesser extent, toward Siscia. He deeply mistrusts anyone from Hyouden or Stilicidium.
Biography ↡
Among the many wives and mistresses of Majid Aishtaeil, head of the powerful and influential Yaron clan, was a Siscian woman named Nadia Fourcaud. She was originally purchased as a slave, prized for her knowledge of medicines, but it was not long before her beauty caught the eye of the head of the house and she was elevated to concubine. She was not a particular favorite, but this never troubled the woman. She held no real love for the man who held her leash though she would gladly take advantage of her position.
Nadia’s first child was a son whom she adored and named Michelet. At first his father took an interest, but was disappointed when it seemed that Michelet’s fire manipulation powers were not particularly powerful. The boy practiced tirelessly and mastered what power he had, but his power was simply not impressive enough to hold Majid’s attention. Michelet’s ability to capture and conjure animal spirits was much more powerful, but his father did not believe this power had a practical use that would benefit him and the clan. As a result, Michelet was mostly ignored. He was not even given the clan name, though he was still beholden to them.
Noticing her son’s distress, Nadia took him under wing, teaching him all of the practices that had made her worth owning to begin with. This did not change Majid’s perception of his son, but it did capture Michelet’s interest and investment. He learned and he practiced and in time he no longer looked to Majid for approval.
Of course, there was little call for the skills he was cultivating. His half-sister Zahra could heal others much more quickly and efficiently with flames from her hands and it seemed that everyone went to her for every bang and scrape, even the smallest nicks that hardly seemed to necessitate such a show of power. With Zahra’s ability she would always outshine him. Not that she needed the boost, he would often think; Zahra had always been well beloved. His own mother doted on the “sweet girl” as much as anyone and considered her mother Adora to be a treasured friend. Michelet held an indifferent tolerance, which was the best that most people received from him. He was grateful enough the time or two she had to heal a broken bone for him, sparing him months of recovery with his more traditional methods, but he could never bring himself to her for anything less than a serious injury.
It almost seemed to go without saying that Michelet would join the war effort; while he knew that he would never gain favor from his father, he could not allow himself to become an embarrassment, either. So he enlisted the year he turned sixteen, kissed his tearful mother goodbye, and left to join his unit. His mother, one of the very few people he could admit in his heart that he loved, would surely be safe at the Yaron estate, the protected property of the second most powerful man in Funkazan, surrounded by the women who had become sisters and so many nieces and nephews to love and care for besides her other children.
It was the thought of his mother and siblings, well kept and safe at home, that kept Michelet going through the worst parts of his service. He had long since given up on acknowledgement for his deeds, but as long as he played his part, as long as all of Funkazan continued to fight and win, war would never touch his family again. His little sisters would never be sold like his mother once was. They would all live peaceful and fulfilled lives. He believed this in his heart for four long, miserable years.
The missive that Michelet received did not tell him much, but it told him enough. His mother and three of his younger siblings were dead. Only the twins, still infants in arms and shielded by Nadia’s body, had survived the initial inferno. And even then their poor little lungs would have surely given out had Zahra not found them and healed them when she did. Filled with impotent rage and despair, Michelet became like a man already half dead and not caring if he lived. It made him a terror on the battlefield; no pain could deter him from his mission. But there was no real heart in it anymore. What was he fighting for with most of his family gone?
But the twins, tiny little Hamza and Khawla whom he knew only from letters, had lived. It took time, but slowly the thought of that small part of his mother that remained became enough reason for Michelet to live and return home to them. It would only be much later that he heard rumors of Jamal’s involvement in the fiery chaos that had taken all else from him and by then he would be denied any revenge or satisfaction. Jamal and Zahra both were whisked away in secret and Michelet was in no position to demand to know why they were gone or even, more importantly, why Jamal still breathed the air of the living after all that he had done.
By the time the war ended, Michelet’s remaining siblings were six years old, nearly seven. He came home to them bearing as many gifts as he could carry and some smaller trinkets for their surviving siblings and aunties. It was a bittersweet reunion and a short lived one. Michelet was restless, and when he finally caught wind that Jamal and Zahra both were being held at the supposed Utopia Academy, he was determined to find his way inside as well. What he would do once he got there he did not know. He did not dare to act against his father’s wishes. Did he? Or was it possible that this crime, and his need for retribution, were great enough to overcome a lifetime of loyalty and servitude?
Likes ↡
Walking barefoot, particularly over grass.
Staying up late; he loves the moonlight on a clear night.
He likes to eat spicy food and drink rum.
He loves to cook and loves to eat a good meal even more.
Dislikes ↡
Early mornings. He is not particularly fond of the daytime at all and hates to be woken up.
Stuffy, formal events and people. He prefers a laid-back vibe.
Overly chatty people. He gets bored or annoyed by others very quickly and hates when they don’t get the hint.
Misc. Info ↡
Michelet walks very softly and is barefoot more often than not. He often passes by others without being heard at all.
Michelet can often be found wandering at night as though in a trance like a silent spectre unless someone speaks to him.
Michelet is deeply interested in medicines, positions, and other concoctions that may or may not have the magical potency he believes they do.
Theme Songs ↠ Link a motivation song here (Optional)
Username ↠ Chandra Panesar
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:24 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:24 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:24 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:24 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:24 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:24 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:24 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2025 5:24 pm
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