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 Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2008 6:20 pm
All Accepted Biographies may be found here.
If you do not see it here, please do not begin posting, unless Mr. Blackbird Lore or Alaundria have given you explicit confirmation that it is okay to do so.
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Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2008 6:21 pm
Accepted Character Profiles
(organized by allegiance)
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THE HOLY EMPIRE
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Name: John Corvair
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 180 lbs
Allegiance: The Holy Empire of Light, House Corvair
Class: Lord
Weapons: Long sword, Short sword
Appearance: Cropped black hair and dark brown eyes. His features are very angular, such as a sharp nose, and high, prominent cheek bones. This both makes him very beautiful, and very unnerving. He is a strong man, though he wears robes which hide his build. In general, his robes are satin. When on the battlefield or leading raids against dark magic users, he wears obsessively polished white full armor, though it lacks a helm. Upon this armor is inscribed all of the names of those black magicians he brought to justice. He also keeps a book on him where he quickly pens in any new names of traitors and black magicians he exposed. At all times he has a white circlet around his head. Upon it is inscribed the name of his father, grandfather, great grandfather, and great great grandfather.
Personality: Publicly John is a warm man who enjoys games of strategy over some fine wine, and now and then a small wager or two over a table of dice. He loves his family, and publicly displays this often, much to the vexation of some of his less than happily coupled relations. He jokes with others that his family's love for him is what keeps him protected from the evil arts which he tries so hard to thwart.
When in public and not with his family, he does not shy from making his devotion to Solem known. He speaks often in forums of how Solem is obviously the correct path, as under his guidance the Empire has become strong, and still becomes stronger. He states readily that when the heathens wish to make advances on the Empire, Solem will guide his followers to victory, no matter the military standing. In the same breath, he will state how Solem has blessed the Corvair line, and that the Corvair line is just as dedicated to the cause of bringing justice to the world. He is very proud of both affiliations.
When he is in a military setting, however, he is a very different man. There is no smile nor laughter. He thinks not of his children or wife. He has a job to do: protect peace. "As long as dark magic exists, peace cannot," is his maxim, and the men following him are expected to believe this readily. He takes pleasure in the act of removing one more dark magician from the world, though he loathes the fact it must so often be through blood shed.
His word is absolute to those he leads, and he expects obedience. When he is disobeyed, punishment is swift and harsh to remind them that he is the commander. Repeated disobedience leads to him requesting their transfer, or he sends them through a program to instill obedience in them. He defers the same respect to his superiors. When asked by a superior once about his strange and rigid obedience, he responded, "You are the head, and I your arm. My men are my fingers. You know how the rest of the body is moving, and should one part act on its own, the entire whole goes into disarray. I am here to bring order to this world, not chaos, and Solem strike me down if in such an important aspect I become a hypocrite."
History: John was sheltered as a child. He knew the evils of dark magic, but he never learned about the suffering of the people. He was never taught that perhaps Solem would lose, instead imbued with zeal and devotion to the cause of destroying dark magic. In secondary school he learned military tactics, and especially took a liking to tactical urban warfare. Because of this, he went to an academy specializing in leading raids in cities, as well as special ops operating with specific objectives in a mass combat situation.
While in the academy he was a soldier in a cousin's urban unit, partaking in raids against illegal activity. He watched in admiration at how effectively five to ten men could take on larger odds through strict discipline and coordination, and he became even more dedicated to his studies.
When he was 22, he graduated from the academy. His cousin, Bernard, was promoted to a higher position, overlooking several squads, and John was given command of a small five man squad under Bernard. After several chance encounters with black magicians, he was promoted to the care of the Arcane Inquisition, where he was also taught how to stalk pray and interrogate. Now at 32, he controls a ten man squad specializing in rooting out and destroying cults in Soulkeep. With political issues heating up, he takes care to also train his men how to fight in urban settings during full scale battles. He also still adjuncts at his old academy when he finds the time, usually teaching urban tactics or how to track a dark magician.
He married Claire when he was 22, and fresh out of the academy. Claire was only told that John helped the greater good. She never saw his armor, nor book, and she never knew just how much blood was on his hands. All she had to know was John did great works, and she should be proud of such things. The children were told the same.
His children are Korbin (7), Mary (5), Christoph (3), and Jailynn (1). Korbin walks dutifully with his father on "military details." This generally consists of small inspections of units, in which John wears his armor. Korbin is the only one in the family who has seen John's armor, as he is expected to one day take up the persecution of dark magicians. Mary believes her father a savior, and has become a daddy's girl. She fights often for his attention, finding it difficult to fend of Korbin and Claire at the same time. John takes a great deal of pride in his little girl, though, and he spoils her horribly.
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Gaian Username: Chibi_Teddo
Name: Artisn Vadal
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 110 lbs
Allegiance: Holy Empire
Class: Assassin / White Mage
Weapons: Assassin's dagger, Set of pressure point needles
Appearance: Artisn bears silver hair and blue eyes, showing signs of his Vidalan heritage. He is short and slender, and very light. He has slim, strong muscles that are perfect for his work. He has very pale skin and sharp facial features. His hair falls to his shoulders.
Personality: Artisn is strong-willed and independent. Though he is Vidalan, he bears a defiant distrust of his homelands' hierarchy. On the uncommon occasion that Artisn is serious, he aggressively defends his side of an issue. He only comes to blows when he is confident of victory or has completely lost his temper. Often, however, he is reserved in that he does not show this side of himself. Rather, he plays court jester, pulling comical shenanigans and jabbing jokes whenever possible. It can often get quite malicious, but he always continues regardless of how angry it makes people.
History: Artisn is the son of a Vidalan noble... well, his father WAS a Vidalan noble. The house Vadal was one of the oldest noble families of Vidal, rumored to even be the origin of the kingdom's name. The last of his house, Allidin Vadal fell from the favor of the Regent Protector. Speaking out against the government's blatant disregard for its people, his title was stripped from him. Furious, yet lucky to escape with his life, Artisn's father defected to the Holy Empire of Light. There he met his wife, Hannah Yoros, and fathered his only son, Artisn. Artisn inherits white magick from his Solomon heritage. However, as the government of the Empire grew increasingly fanatical, Allidin and his family were exiled for their connections to the "dark kingdom."
Unwillingly, the family returned to Vidal. Artisn was four years old. Hiding their identities, the family moved into the slums of outer Baldur's Keep. His mother stays indoors for fear of being murdered for her heritage, raped, or forced into a census and thus being required to have at least three more children. Artisn was taught by his parents, and thus has the intelligence of a refined noble. When the time came to be sent away, Artisn exhibited no ability in Black Magick. He was sent to an Armory for the Black Knights, but his sharp mind paid off, and Artisn was instead transferred to an Assassins Guild. There he exhibited tremendous prowess in his new trade, and reached an impressive level of skill by the time he turned 15. Despite this, Artisn, as well as his family, share a distaste for violence. Artisn often has difficulty justifying his actions to himself. Upon 'graduation,' Artisn struck out on his own, severing most of his connections in the Assassins Guild. In the year since he completed his training, several high-ranking Vidalan nobles, known to be particularly malicious, have either been murdered or simply disappeared. Artisn maintains his father's principles, and takes them to heart in his secret battle for the people of Vidal. Aware of his abilities with White Magick, as well, Artisn has since trained with his mother to some extent in the use of them. By no means is he an expert, however. Artisn has learned only a few useful spells to supplement him in battle. However, he possesses strong magical power. Perhaps it is from his mix of White and Black magicks, but that is not certain. Artisn exhibits absolutely no Black Magick whatsoever. Perhaps if he ever has the opportunity, Artisn will train with a master of White Magick and become a full-fledged mage. That would take considerable time and effort, though. White Mages are a commodity in Vidal.
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Gaian Username: Kaewyn Star
Name: Rayne Morningstar
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Height: 5’ 0”
Weight: 110 lbs.
Allegiance: The Holy Empire
Class: Ranger
Weapons: Rayne wields a crossbow, which she has become very proficient with in aiming and reloading. Her quiver is tied to the right side of her belt, and is always stocked with extra ammunition. She also carries an 8” dagger for skinning and preparing her game in her right boot.
Appearance: Rayne has short red hair that rests at her chin. It is straight and smooth, even in humid weather, making it seem thick and heavy. Her face is oval with bright green eyes and fair skin. She is often mistaken for younger than she is because of her height and the air of innocence surrounding her. Her body is thin and she moves with a strong grace, adding to her success as a hunter. Many have mentioned that she appears to be gliding when she walks and has extraordinary reflexes. Despite the meager living this profession implies, her clothing is very intricate. A brown leather bodice hugs her torso, yet is cut short revealing her midsection. The right strap holding it is three strips of leather bound together and the left includes the same three strips on top of a thick jade cloth. The bodice is adorned with jade and copper buckles along the top and no decorations at the bottom. She also wears copper and jade arm guards that protect from her wrist to her elbow. Under her loose cloth skirt is a pair of plain leather shorts. The skirt is a coppery color with gold trim that reaches her mid-thigh and is held up by a leather belt. Her leather boots come up to her mid-calf and have the same copper and gold trimmed material along the cuff. Although they appear clunky, Rayne is able to maneuver around her hunting grounds silently. Her crossbow is slung over her right shoulder until she needs it and her dagger is sheathed in her right boot.
Personality: Rayne is a very calm and serious person who very seldom reveals her fun side. It is rare to witness her showing deep emotion, or even a smile, ever since her family tragedy. Rayne finds satisfaction in meditation and loves the sound of running water. Recently she has taken up whittling as a pastime.
Rayne tends to be a very clean person and takes great care of her appearance and her clothes, never letting them stay dirty for long. She even developed a special soap that removes any stain, even blood. Rayne is a private person, keeping to herself and not bothering with the new found Inquisition of the Holy Empire. This is not to be mistaken with indifference, however. Rayne can be very passionate about her beliefs; she just isn’t sure what she believes about the Inquisition. After everything that happened to her and her family, she has isolated herself from the world she knew.
History: Rayne is the youngest of five children and the only girl. She was born unexpectedly ten years after her parents decided to stop having children. Her family made their living as hunters in the forest near the border between the Holy Empire and Galifar. This skill was passed to all of their children. Rayne was always a quiet child, but not always as solemn as now. All of her brothers made it a point to pamper and protect her. They often played a game to see how many of their sister’s smiles they could coax out of her. Rayne loved her family.
As her brothers matured however, they all set their sights to bigger things and joined the armies of the Inquisition as rangers. This made her parents very proud, and they were all hailed as heroes. Rayne’s last brother was killed two years ago serving his kingdom. The clothing that she wears now was constructed from different pieces of all her brothers’ armor.
Rayne left home after that, not bearing to see her parents so distraught after losing all but one child. It was too much for her to be the only survivor. She started out on her own living by the skills of her trade. Rayne only killed to eat and would then keep the fur to sell for supplies. Eventually she saved enough money to build a small hut in the forest, away from everyone. She resented the Arcane Inquisition that led her brothers to their deaths, or did she resent those black mages that actually killed them? By isolating herself in such a way, Rayne had no one to talk her through the pain of losing her brothers and began to severely suppress her emotions. She rarely ever goes out in search of society except to sell her wares to furriers and maybe stay the night in a local inn. Although she does not often indulge, a glass of wine and good music is always pleasurable to her.
Living on her own made Rayne mature far past her peers. Instead of going to taverns every night to sink into squander and fall in love every weekend with some random knight, Rayne prefers a good book and a warm fire to the company of drunken men and their forged flattery.
Being out in the wild, Rayne hardly ever gets in a scrape with another human, but animals are another story. Rayne’s agile movements coupled with her speed allow her to evade almost any up-close attack, but her speed also hinders her from landing an accurate attack in close combat. When an animal comes within five feet of her, she grabs her knife and goes into a dodging dance. Without the time to aim, though, her precision suffers enormously, which is why she is a ranged fighter. With her crossbow in hand and a calm mind, she is extremely accurate up to fifty yards.
Over the past two years there has been only one person whom she sees on a fairly regular basis. There is a druid named Ronyo that guards the section of the forest where she lives. At first he was apprehensive of a hunter encroaching on his territory, but once he realized that she honestly only killed to eat, they became friends. Rayne usually sees him once a week, accompanied by his two companions, the fox and the wolf. Rayne considers her friend to be a man of honor and integrity, and would not hesitate to aid him in any way. Whenever Ronyo stops in to check on her they always have a nice dinner together, and talk a little about the things going on in the forest and in the Holy Empire. Strangely enough, Ronyo seems to know more about the political situation than she, and although she doesn’t search out the knowledge, she likes to be informed.
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Gaian Username: Ellenoir
Name: Hazel Kirsch
Gender: Female
Age: aproximately 29
Height: 5’ 6”
Weight: 154 lbs
Allegiance: The Holy Empire
Class: Paladin
Weapons: A ball mace that is, because of the spikes, about the size of her head; it has a spike as long as her hand at the top of it, and rather than being rounded it is flanged with each of the four edges kept razor sharp. She can stab, slash, and crush with this monstrosity. While it has a slow swing rate compared to a lighter weapon at first, the weight creates a great deal of momentum. She also keeps a lance with her when she travels on horseback. Rarely do her lances survive combat however, so she has learned how to make them herself.
Appearance: All her life Lieutenant Kirsch has been mistaken for a boy. Even though she is now well into her womanhood it is still at times hard to tell. There is hardly an ounce of fat on her body, but she is by no means a small thing. Tall, long legs and broad in the shoulders, and nearly as flat as a washboard, she is by no means the idea of feminine beauty. Her face bears all of what little femininity she possesses. Her eyes are thick lashed, and a brilliant spring green set under smoothly arched brows. Her lips are full and dark, and a smile can almost always be seen on her face. However, this beauty has been marred by her service in The Empire’s military.
Her scars and lasting wounds are as follows:
A thin pale line crossing her lips diagonally from the left before curving around her chin. Her nose has been broken on two occasions; all things considered it healed better than it might have. There is a scar crossing her forehead on the right side; you cannot see it unless you get rather intimately close, except for the break in her right eyebrow where the scar-tissue won’t allow the hair to grow back. She has a great deal of burn-scars covering the front of her left shoulder and some of her chest from where a Black Mage’s energy bolt scorched her during the war.
She wears her chin length golden blond hair (for which she was named, the plant Witch Hazel stereotypically has golden flowers) down when not on duty. When practicing, sparring, on tour of duty, or in some other situation that will likely involve combat, she wears her hair tied back at the nape of her neck.
Her everyday clothes are rather plain: Leather pants and simple belted tunics. Her everyday armor is simply leather pants, steel plated boots, a long chain-mail tunic, and finely articulated metal gauntlets. For heavy combat, when she’s been given time to prepare, she adds heavier plating to her boots that come up to her knees as greaves, and pauldrons. Essentially she wears a suit of armor that’s half plate-mail and half chain-mail, and over all of it she wears her surcoat. Her surcoat is plain black with a small amount of gold trim.
Personality: Lieutenant Kirsch, Hazel to her friends, has a surprisingly optimistic outlook for someone who fought in the last war. She believes that there is good in everyone; no matter how dark their soul, should they allow Solem’s light to illuminate it their goodness would be plain for all to see. She loves a good joke, and is perfectly willing to laugh at her own mistakes. In her own words, “I laugh to survive. If I didn’t I’d be in a sorry state!”
Perhaps the only things she seems to take seriously are Solem, and combat. She’s light hearted in practice and sparring, but on the battlefield she is keenly aware of every life at stake. She tries to set an example for those around her, positive, hopeful, determined. She’ll joke on the battlefield, but only to raise morale, not for the sole sake of a joke.
In the matter of Solem, she will laugh at a joke, if she truly finds it funny. But she takes sacrilege very seriously. One should respect another’s gods if you want them to respect yours. She’s always been drawn to the kinder side of her god, so the violence and judgment being done in His name unsettles her. She hasn’t studied the various Writs and Scriptures in years, so she couldn’t say for sure, but she feels like something isn’t right.
However, it is not her place to say what Solem’s wishes may or may not be. She will follow the Speaker of Solem’s will, until such a time as her fears are confirmed.
Until that day she remains hopeful, chivalric, and loyal to a fault.
History: Hazel’s heritage is something of a mystery. She herself never cared, her family was the temple; she needed no parents but Solem and His disciples. However, others find this as a fault. As she was growing up it was always whispered that she might be of Vidalan ancestry, due to her bright green eyes. However aside from her eyes, she is very much the stereotypical Northern Solemite, pale and hardy from living in the cool conditions of the mountains.
She was found as a young child by, Fyrdric, a Cleric of Solem, as he returned to Soulkeep from the front line. It did not surprise him to find an orphan so near the war zone, such things happen. He could not bear the thought of leaving a child to such a fate, and was much pleased when he found that she had the gift of White Magic; it gave him an excuse to take her all the way to Soulkeep.
The healers there determined that she was about four years of age, and because no one knew when she was born exactly, they deemed that she should celebrate her birth on the Solstice that winter. After all, it was by Solem’s grace that she was given a chance at a new life, it seemed only fitting that she be born again along with the light of the sun.
From there she began her life as a disciple of Solem. She spent her days learning of His will, studying the scriptures, learning to use othersight. They encouraged her down the path of cleric, but as she grew older she became restless, often stealing away from her “boring” magic lessons to watch the paladins training in the courtyard. When she was seven she declared that she would become a paladin, not a cleric.
Female paladins were not unheard of, but they certainly were not a common sight. Fyrdric, her most respected mentor, questioned her choice, but once he was certain that the child knew what she was getting into he supported her fully. For the next eight years she went through the grueling combat training. She had to push herself harder than many of the others; she had to be the best, if only so that they would forget that she was a girl. It was during this time in her life that she received her first broken nose.
By the time she was put into active duty, the war was drawing to a close. In her four years on the front lines she rose to the rank of Lieutenant. She was good to her men, doing everything in her power to ensure their survival. She would even protest orders if their tactics were foolhardy and doomed to fail. She wasn’t all that great a tactician, but she knew her unit’s strengths and weaknesses, and knew how to use them to the greatest potential. There were times when she had to follow orders that she protested, and the events always turned out as she had feared. Thankfully it was exceedingly rare that the tacticians of the Empire would make such mistakes.
Since the war ended, she has retired to Soulkeep. She’s been furthering her own training, and helping in the training of new paladins. On several occasions she has been called upon to aid in the Inquisition, and though it unsettles her, she does her duty well. And at long last she has been called upon to enter the Order of the Twin Blades. Should she succeed on her ordeal, she will be among the small handful of women to ever ascend into those ranks.
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Gaian Username: Invernus
Name: Invernus
Gender: Male
Age: 45
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 180
Allegiance: Holy Empire of Light
Class: White Mage
Weapons: Whatever is handy, or his dagger.
Appearance: Invernus is of average height and body weight. He has cold blue eyes that are never affected by his smile. His stare is piercing and unsettling. He has long white hair which he keeps back except for the bangs. Despite the gloved right hand he keeps out of view he otherwise does not seem at all abnormal otherwise.
Personality: Invernus is a man haunted by his experiences as a prisoner of Vidal during the last war. He is harsh in speech and keeps mostly to himself. He is a man of strong passions and given to fits of violent rage. He hates black magi and anything from Vidal.
History: During the last war Invernus was a novice working for a field hospital attached to the home guard. A legion of Vidal's forces, led by necromancers managed to slip through the Imperial lines and ambushed the home guard. Invernus managed to slow their assault through a daring and stupid attempt to read a high level warding spell. In the end the home guard was butchered and the white magi apprentices were taken to Vidal for their profane experiments.
Years later Invernus escaped and made his way home to the Empire. He joined an inquisitional order where he still serves. He holds a perfect track record of spotting practitioners of the black arts. His methods are harsh, brutal, and always end in confession and summary execution. Always. His wild success has made him a bit of a hero in the area but people rarely make the mistake of approaching him in a familiar manner more than once.
Invernus hides a dark secret that has brought him shame and torment. He is addicted to a drug that was created by Vidal to keep him pacified and unable to cast magic. He worked up an immunity to the draught over the years in custody but that only allowed him to use magic after a dose. Withdrawal from the drug is still too painful to face. Only a certain herb unique to the blasted planes of Vidal and perverted by a black spell then purified by a white mage could be used to produce the drug. As he escaped Vidal he kidnapped a young black mage and built up the same powerful addiction in him. The black mage is often seen at Invernus' side as Brother Arkest. Arkest originally obeyed out of fear and necessity; although, over time their relationship has become a very peculiar one. Were they not anathema to one another they would probably be friends.
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Gaian Username: Alaundria
Name: Cordellia "Dellia" Aridaine
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 126
Allegiance: Holy Empire
Class: White Mage
Weapons: Long, white birch staff with gold trim and a golden sun sculpted on the top.
Appearance: Dellia is a tall, slender woman. She is a bit gangly for a woman her age, with skinny, straight legs, dainty feet, and a fairly flat chest,causing some people to assume she is younger than she actually is. Her features are angular and pointed, giving her a slightly "stuck up" appearance. She has golden blonde hair that she either wears in a long ponytail down her back, or braided up into a bun at the nape of her neck.
Personality: Cordillea, at her best, is a warm, kindhearted young woman with a deep concern for others. She is generous and helpful, often going well out of her way to help those in need. At her worst, she can be moody and emotional, flippant and often gives in to pressure and bullying. She will frequently allow people to take advantage of her, and has a great fear of hurting and offending people. She has a tendency to be somewhat naive. A trustworthy person, she believes that most people she encounters are the same as herself.
History: Cordellia is the second youngest of seven children, three girls and four boys. Her mother Salvinia Aridaine, was a cleric in their local temple in the small village of Rayeslan, on the outskirts of Merpenoth. Her father Corbin Aridaine was a paladin of the light, fighting in of the wars of succession. Dellia was born while her father was away at war. Upon returning home, he was delighted to find his new daughter, and lavished as much of his attention on her as he had time for. Corbin loved all his children dearly, but Dellia was always his favorite. She was raised in relative comfort and did well in her studies, having an easy, fairly uneventful childhood. Dispute her privileged upbringing, Dellia has always had a soft spot for the less fortunate, and as soon as she was old enough, she could be found at the temple alongside her mother, helping tend to the sick and homeless. It was here that Dellia had her first doubts about the accuracy of some of the temples teachings, watching refugees from Vidal, Galifar, and even Lhazaar dragged out of the refuge for questioning.
It seemed natural to her parents and friends that Dellia would be come a healer, and she proved them all correct by going on the study the Healing Arts at the university after she finished her primary school. Dellia graduated from the University in Merpenoth as a licensed mage and nurse. She worked as a physicians assistant in the capitol before being recently transferred to Soulkeep to work in the The Cathedral of Glass. Though she sometimes has doubts about the road the Holy Inquisition has taken, she still takes much of what her superiors say as the truth.
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Gaian Username: cptjim
Name: Porthos Lucindor
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 200 lbs
Allegiance: Holy Empire of Light
Class: Ranger
Weapons: Bow and arrow, small hunting knife carved out of a deer's antler.
Appearance: Porthos is of mostly average height and build. His skin is tanned and rough from working as a farmer and his hair is often a matted mess of sun-dried tangles. While he is only 22, Porthos looks to some to be in his 30's.
Personality: Of the four boys and two girls, Porthos is the quietest, but also the most responsible. As the firstborn son, Porthos often felt the need to shoulder the greatest burden of his family and silently stifles his own ambitions for the sake of others. All of this causes him to approach life from a stoic perspective. There is life and then there is death, and that is it. If Porthos shirks his duties, it is only because he sees any other task as prerequisite for completing them.
History: Porthos was the firstborn son of Henry and Catherine Lucindor, a poor farming family in the Holy Empire. As such, he was closely trained by his father, Henry, in all the nuances of living off the land. He learned how to hunt, farm, and raise livestock directly from his father with the hopes of one day taking over the family farm. As the eldest son, he also took it upon himself to help his sister, Diana, raise the other four children.
This is why, when Alan, the second oldest brother, runs away to Lhazaar, Porthos takes it the hardest. Somehow, Porthos felt responsible in not raising him right (despite his entire family's protests otherwise) and thus dedicates himself to working even harder on the farm to make up for the lack of one of the boys. He also became far more strict with the other children, often reprimanding them harshly for wandering too far from home.
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Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2008 6:22 pm
LHAZAAR
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Name: Audania “Danny” Inarel
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Height: 5 Feet 3½ Inches
Weight: 127 pounds
Allegiance: Lhazaar
Class: Cleric
Weapons: In a leather sheath at her waist she carries an 8 inch eating dagger with a dark wood handle and brass crossbar. When she goes out places she usually has a walking staff of something like oak, barely sanded down so she won’t get splinters, it’s about as tall as she is.
Appearance:Audania’s plain clothes and lack of care towards her appearance hide the subtle beauty that she might have. Her face is vaguely heart shaped, marred only by countless freckles and sunburns. Her nose is tilted just barely upwards, enough so that her face will continue to appear youthful for some years to come. Dark lashes line eyes that are neither noticeably large nor small. Irises of a green and bluish gray, like the sea, hold shadows of understanding beyond her young age. Her lips, just barely this side of being full (full…|.…thin), join her brows to convey her emotions. Most often when she is not being pulled by any distinct emotions she can be found bearing a sad smile, or a thoughtful frown.
Framing her face are wavy locks of mousy brown, that when freshly brushed glistens with a healthy sheen. She brushes her hair once in the morning, before tying it back into a knot or horse’s tail with a leather thong. By the time night falls a good many small wisps of hair have fallen free of their bonds to wave and curl about her face and head; these she brushes back into a sheen just before retiring to her bed.
The clothes she wears are simple, loose, easy to move and work in. The colours of her wardrobe range from undyed wools to cotton like fabrics dyed in earth tones and greens. Much of her clothing has patches and worn spots, as she tries to make them last as long as they possibly can. She has two pairs of shoes, leather boots for trekking about, and simple slippers for in town. As far as jewelery the only thing she wears is a simple pewter pendant of a star clasped in a circle of stylized waves; she says that it represents how all things find embrace in Aquain’s arms, even the stars.
Personality: Audania tries to keep her emotions flowing smoothly, but like all deep waters there is turbulence even when the surface appears calm. She honestly strives for balance in her life although there are days when she struggles with that goal. She wants to see the good in things, give people second chances, and to live life happily no matter what comes, but she knows that anger and sorrow are natural things, and that it’s just as foolish to try and resist their rages as it is to sail in a typhoon. She relates most of her philosophies back to nature in some way, and reveres Aquain Goddess of the Sea as her patron and guide in life.
On good days she’s quick to smile and share her happiness. She’ll welcome you into her home with open arms and sit you down for a cup of tea. If you have troubles she’ll listen, and help you if she can, no matter how silly it is.
On bad days she’s more withdrawn, and it takes a lot more for her to smile honestly. She’ll still try to help, but she’s more likely to be annoyed with you if your problem is stupid, and her criticisms and advice are much less gentle.
History:Born and raised in a small inland town in Lhazaar, she received basic tutoring in reading writing and enumeration at the local temple. Her family was not wealthy but grew enough rice to ship it down the river to the port towns every year and make a good profit. As she grew older she gained a craving for learning and started spending more and more of her free time in town at the temple. The scholars and priests there taught her and a few others some of the history of the land and the ways of their Gods. The more she learned the more she grew to disdain violence as unseemly and unnecessary. She even stopped eating the flesh of animals for a few years before she realized that killing for survival was natural, while the pointless violence she detested was a purely human creation.
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Name: Sonya Rolaud
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 115 lb
Class: Martial Artist
Weapons: Her body
Appearance: Sonya stopped growing at twelve, so she is very short for her age. Her hair, which is brown, but shines with a bit of red, is kept at shoulder height, often shorter, and kept up in a high pony tail. Her eyes a dark chocolate brown, only slightly differing from her pupils. Her skin tans easily in the sun, but almost never burns. The natural color, though, is somewhat darker than fair, not quite tan. As for her clothing, she wears loose fitting clothes that she can easily move around in, and soft-soled shoes that make little noise when she walks. She is not thin, but not fat, either. From her martial arts training, she has developed muscles that are not quite seen, but felt if you happen to be her victim.
Personality: Sonya isn't very social. She does what she is told to do, and almost never questions. That's the key. Almost. When bossed around by her peers, though, in a situation that isn't too dangerous, she will challenge every word they say, if only because she was trained to be aware of what others are planning. She uses little energy when fighting, usually turning others' momentum against them. She does prefer peace over war, but will jump at the chance to fight. Should she be hurt, she will say nothing of it, for fear of not being able to serve Lhazaar in any way that they want.
History: Sonya grew up in Amnir, with her parents. Her parents were both mercenaries, but apparently had trained in martial arts when they were young. Teaching their only daughter all that they could remember, they soon could not find more to teach her. Sonya, now having both of her parents' knowledge of martial arts, found herself seeking more as they stopped teaching her. So she moved out and fled to Regalport.
In Regalport, she lived on the streets, taking no interest in the various entertainment places. While she did various odd jobs to get money, she easily fought off any thief who came near her. One, though, was different than the rest. This one, after losing his weapons to her, fought back still, using some moves that she knew, and others that she didn't. She found that this person was, just like her parents, once a martial artist, who had abandoned learning for an easier path. Still, he agreed to teach her.
From him, Sonya learned many more ways to defend herself that required less energy. At the same time, he conditioned her feel less pain that usual. He also presented her with many challenging stretches to increase her flexibility. Finding someone to teach his old skills to had revived him, so that he used a more critical eye when watching her techniques, but used less force in correcting her as he used to with his old students.
Eventually, though, Sonya's teacher was killed. She wasn't all that surprised, considering the amount of crime in the streets of Regalport. She lives in that city today, too, wandering, waiting for a purpose.
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Name: Anniane Deneith (ah-NEE-ah-nay) (nickname: Nin)
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Height: 5’2’’
Weight: 120 lbs.
Allegiance: Lhazaar
Class: Black Mage
Weapons: Anniane’s main weapon is a sturdy staff made of redwood with intricate carvings running along its entire 5 ½’ length. She also carries a 6’’ knife, more for everyday use than for fighting.
Appearance: The only characteristics that reveals Nin is from Vidal are her long, strait, silver hair that reaches her waist and vibrant emerald eyes. She usually leaves her thick hair down, but during the hot humid months it is almost always pulled back in a ponytail. Most would consider her very beautiful if she didn’t have a scar that stretched from her right ear to her chin. Looking past the scar, she has soft, gentle features and a sparkling smile. Nin’s small body is lean and muscular, covered by a sleeveless blue cotton dress that reaches to the ground. Several long slits are cut from the ground to her thighs revealing tight black pants tucked into black boots. She also wears a black leather belt loosely over her dress in which her knife is sheathed and her purse is tied. Nin usually walks with her redwood staff in her right hand and has a small travelers pack thrown over her shoulder. Inside the pack is a soft blanket, some bread and cheese rolled up together, and a set of panpipes. The trademark hydra of her family’s name rests on the left side of Nin’s torso, but is always covered.
Personality: Nin always tries to be kind to strangers and friends, but her sarcastic mouth has been known to get her into trouble. She is sometimes scorned for being from Vidal, but her kindness usually wins the hearts of most. Her smile adorns her face ninety percent of the time and she is always willing to lend a helping hand. Although she tries to avoid conflict, she will always stand up for the innocent in a fight. She likes to travel with groups of people and loves the merriment of a popular tavern, not to mention a stout drink. She loves laughing, good stories and music. When silence falls, Nin likes to either play on her panpipes or hum a sweet tune.
Nin’s personality changes completely, however, when faced with anyone from Vidal or who carries the name Deneith. She trusts no one from her family because of what happened to her father, and harbors a deep hatred for her mother and siblings. She is very skilled at fighting with her staff, and tries to not use her black magick unless absolutely necessary, which is sometimes hard for her. It is so much easier to destroy than to defend, a fact that Nin sometimes envies of the white mages. Nin finds it hard to get over her past, and is constantly reminded of her roots by the terrible destructive power that flows through her blood.
History: After twelve previous children, this one finally had what Veria Deneith wanted most in a child… “Magick Potential” and a lot from what she was told. It almost didn’t bother her that this child would be a girl, instead of a boy; no she would finally have a child she could be proud of. After six hours of labor, Veria saw her daughter for the first time and couldn’t have been happier. She was a woman who craved power. She wanted it so much she would stop at nothing to get it, even if it meant neglecting all the rest of her b*****d children to get it. “Your name will be Anniane and you will become the most terrifying and powerful mage in Vidal.” The small child cooed which brought a frightening smile to the woman’s face. Veria let her daughter be taken away, anxious for her true legacy to begin.
Ten years later and Anniane was not only top of her class at the Academy of Sorcere, but she was becoming more beautiful everyday; a fact that brought terrible joy to her deranged mother. Finally after twelve disappointments, this child would raise the name of Deneith in Vidal. Anniane’s teacher and father at the Academy, Danton, brought weekly reports to Veria about her daughter’s progress. Unlike most men in Vidal, Danton had a kind heart. He put on a terrorizing front, but he loved his daughter deeply. Danton did his best to protect his daughter at the Academy and encouraged her to be kind and caring. He wanted something completely different for her than Veria.
It wasn’t until Anniane was fourteen years old that Danton discovered that a life in Vidal would end up destroying his little girl. Anniane was walking the Academy ground after dark playing with fireballs when she was jumped by an older man and pinned to the ground. Her small frame couldn’t fight this man off and she was so terrified that she couldn’t focus enough to use her magick. The man brought out a knife and held it against Anniane’s throat. She stopped moving completely, except for her muffled tears. Just then her father came out of nowhere and threw a lightning bolt through the man’s chest. The moved might have saved Anniane, but the knife cut a deep wound across her face, from her chin to her ear. Danton knew that he could not chance his daughter growing up in this place and decided to smuggle her out of Vidal.
In two days Danton had arranged for another group of Deneith’s to transport them both by sea to Lhazaar. There they would start new lives, safe lives. Unknown to Danton, however, was that Veria had spies everywhere and sent a ship to catch them. The encounter was swift and terrible. In a last ditch effort to save Anniane, Danton threw his daughter overboard and destroyed both ships with his fire magick, including himself. The young girl drifted to shore and discovered herself in the land of Lhazaar.
By chance, a group of traveling minstrels found her along the shore and adopted her, teaching her to love and appreciate music and travel and friends. She was somewhat reserved at first, but through their kindness, she came out of her shell and began to enjoy life in her new home.
Word circulated back to Veria that both ships were destroyed. She was furious but for some reason, she felt in her gut that Anniane was still alive, somewhere.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2008 1:47 pm
GALIFAR
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Gaian Username: Ikken Isshu
Name: Andris Maerens
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 155 lbs
Allegiance: Galifar
Class: Knight
Weapons: Long sword; can use a longbow, but doesn't carry one.
Appearance: Tall, lean, and fairly well-muscled, Andris's hair is short, dull ash-brown, and generally well-groomed. His eyes are almost exactly the color of his hair. His skin is lightly tanned, and his face oddly angular, though handsome in its way. He carries himself with a self-assured posture, often seeming taller than anyone nearby. He is rarely found out of his armor, a suit of black half-plate mail, with leather covering whatever areas the armor fails to protect.
Personality: Andris looks deceptively like a man who relies more on his brawn than on his brains; in fact, the opposite is true. Andris does little, and speaks less, without thinking first. He has an odd misanthropy that becomes clear after getting to know him, but this is largely unexplained. He has never been known to have any romantic interests, and tends to excuse himself whenever the subject comes up. There are very few men that he calls friends, and those few are not particularly close to him. Nevertheless, he is an effective soldier, and is well-known for executing his orders with an almost methodical adherence to his duty. Despite his eccentricities, his record is practically spotless.
History: Andris comes from a relatively common background, having joined the military at the age of seventeen. His talent for keeping his opinions to himself and telling people what they want to hear allowed him to rise quickly through the ranks, earning himself a shiny Lieutenant's insignia at the young age of twenty-two. From there, however, he declined further opportunities for advancement, and has remained a Lieutenant until this day.
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Gaian Username: Ikken Isshu
Name: Relicta Maerens
Gender: Female
Age: 30
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 149 lbs.
Allegiance: Galifar (Order of the Pantheon)
Class: Cleric
Weapons: Mace (Order-issued), Shortbow (Order-issued)
Appearance: A slim, attractive woman, Relicta sports a head of long, wheat-yellow hair that has made her the envy of a handful of her sisters in the Order of the Pantheon. Her eyes, like her brothers', are a dull ash-brown, and seem at odds with her vibrant hair. She typically dresses in the standard-issue white robe of the Order of the Pantheon. The robe bears spindly red runes around the hem, the ends of the sleeves, and the neckline, which is conservatively high. She also wears a small, silver, dagger-shaped pendant on a chain around her neck; a memento from her childhood that has since lost much of its meaning, but not its sentimental value. Aside from this pendant, Relicta wears no unnecessary clothing or accessories, preferring simplicity and practicality to beauty or appearance.
Personality: Relicta is a friendly and somewhat talkative woman who veritably exudes an air of kindness. To date, she has never willingly done, said, or caused to be done or said, anything that would hurt another person in any way. She is the caretaker for two cats that reside with her in the Order's headquarters, a black male named Atra, and a white female named Alba. When at home (she lives in the Headquarters), Relicta is rarely seen without one or both of the cats with her, and she sometimes even takes one or both of the cats on her frequent trips out of the city. Despite her friendly and lovable demeanor, however, Relicta often seems more fond of the cats than of people, though she is by no means as misanthropic as her brother, or anywhere near it; she simply has an affinity for animals that manifests itself through her love of her cats. Relicta is not a violent person and, to date, has never had to fight for any serious reason, but is trained in the use of both mace and shortbow, and carries each with her on missions that take her out of the city.
History: Relicta was born in the town of Patria, an easy two-day ride south of Pegasi. When Relicta was fifteen, her brother Andris left to become one of Galifar's illustrious knights. Over the next three years, Relicta continued to study herbs and plants, frequently using her knowledge to cure the sick, both human and animal, so successfully that she would often be credited for miraculous, almost magical healings. Her skills became so great that the villagers came to regard her with something like reverence; she became the wise woman of her village, before even reaching her twentieth year. At eighteen, she rode off with a trader's wagon, at her family's behest, to look into becoming a cleric of Galifar's Order of the Pantheon. To her surprise (but no one else's), she was accepted and quickly became a well-known figure among the Order's initiates. It occurred to her, several times, to seek out her brother, but as had happened with Andris, she always seemed to have a reason not to, and as a result, never got around to it. She was well-respected and even more skilled by her twentieth year, when disaster struck. Word reached Pegasi that a plague was sweeping through the southern settlements and villages, and without hesitation, Relicta rode out with several sisters to see for herself. She found her village in chaos, with nearly every dwelling boasting at least one plague-corpse. Her own grandfather was dead before she arrived. Her parents were alive... but both had contracted the dread plague. She tended to them, and to the villagers, as did her sisters, but few who contracted the disease survived. Her parents, among many others, succumbed, and Relicta, stricken with grief, remained until the disease had run its course. Barely a fifth of the little village's original population remained. Devastated, Relicta returned to Pegasi, finally determined to find Andris. On her visit to the Order of the Shield, though, she met with the Spymaster, who was on his way out. Upon inquiring after Andris, the Spymaster replied that a boy of that name had come to the Order about five years ago, but he didn't know of the boy's whereabouts now. Dejected, Relicta returned to the Order of the Pantheon, where she has remained to this day.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2008 1:50 pm
VIDAL
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Name: Grath Nevanda
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 180 pounds
Allegiance: Vidal
Class: Black Mage
Weapons: Obsidian scythe and dagger
Appearance: Grath is a slim, lithe man, and his consistency when it comes to training is evident in the taut, corded muscles of his body. Like all other black mages, he displays the piercing crystal green eyes and straight black hair grown to hang just beyond his eyebrows. He adorns his feet with steel-toed traveler's boots, and his arms with gray cloth arm guards. He protects his legs with black leather leggings. A thick leather belt hangs about his waist, and from a strap on the left side, a thick book, also leather-bound, hangs and is bound closed by a locked clasp. This is his tome containing the many magics of Necromancy. A plain black tunic remains mostly hidden beneath his silver-gray tabard, the House Nightson crest emblazoned upon the chest in rich black thread. Lastly, his cape was gray and ankle-length with a recurring diamond pattern along the border, and the Nightson Wyvern threaded boldly upon the back. Both the diamond pattern and Wyvern are black.
Personality: Grath is a cold, calculating, and stern man. His schooling taught him the value of information and strength, while his personal studies taught him how to manipulate both to his own advantage. In his earlier years, Grath was a troubled (as well as troubling) child, and often committed to self-degradation or self-mutilation. He never displayed the marks or told anyone (aside from Lady Nightson in regards to the markings on his chest). Once he became a full-fledged Black Mage and eventually a Necromancer, Grath was able to shift his demented thoughts and feelings toward the torture of others in order to extract information. It became one of his favorite things in life. In fact, it still is. He delights in the pain of others, and goes about his "work" as if it were the only thing that mattered in life. In fact, that is the very core of his being. If he were to ever do something displeasing to Lady Nightson, he would forever rebuke himself and strive to be ten times greater. Even now he continually strives to outdo all of those around him in order to keep himself in high esteem with the Regent Protector.
History: Grath was born a magical child, and taken like all other newborn, gifted Vidalans to the Academy of Sorcere. He was a bitter child to the end after being pulled from his mother in such a fashion. His anger was directed at all he deemed truly despicable: his teachers, headmasters, and the majority of the student body. Regardless, he studied hard and even pursued his own personal interests. The anger found closure with the discovery of three things: the darkness and corruption of the world outside and Lady Nightson. In learning of Lady Nightson's status as mother of the true heir to the four kingdoms, Grath found himself developing an unusual fascination and devotion for the Lady, and everything that she symbolized or symbolized her.
Age fifteen found him a member of the Nightson Institute, and his devotion to Necromancy was surpassed only by his utter devotion to all that was the House of Nightson. His teen years, though smoother than his younger years, still found him meddling with many of life's more... interesting aspects. A perfect example would be the Nightson Wyvern he so painstakingly carved into his chest. Seeing as he is not a true-born member of House Nightson, this was the only way for him to obtain the mark upon his skin. A scar now remains there for all those to see, should he ever bare his chest before them. More than all things, he desired to become a member of the Black Guard in order to serve Lady Nightson firsthand, and show to her how his entire life was centered around carrying out her will.
First, however, he was sent to Galifar for all of three years to be trained in the proper arts of strategy, command, and tactics. He finds more use for the training in every day events, but has not forgotten any of his lessons. Should it ever be required of him to lead Mages in a proper battle, he would not disappoint.
Grath's first encounter with the Regent Protector began with Grath bearing the House insignia upon his chest, and ended with his initiation into the Black Guard. In a few years, he was quickly elevated to the status of Arch-Sage of the Black Guard. His position in power is equivalent to that of a General, and he continues to serve Regent Protector Nightson with all his heart, mind, and body.
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Gaian Username KillerWarrior13
Name: Szalaban
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 160 Lbs
Allegiance: Vidal
Class: Swordsman//Black Mage
Weapons: Cursed Longsword (main), Short Sword
Appearance: He prefers to keep his appearance hidden under a hood and cloak, but he is tan-skinned (ethnically) and muscular. There are tattoo like markings on his entire right arm. He does have a bit of a beard, but prefers to keep it short and his hair and eyes are brown.
Personality: Szalaban likes to keep to himself usually and can be quite cold of heart at times. He does have the occasional chat with random people, or if he finds them interesting. HE doesn't like to reveal that much of himself because of events that happened to him when he was a child (more in depth later). He takes a likeness to animals more than people and spends most of his time out in woodland area.
History: Szalaban was born in Talmar, located on an island off the coast of Vidal. He had a decent childhood and was raised by his father, his mother died when he was 4, and he had many child friends, one of which was a girl that he liked for quite some time. This girl, Issari, had family in Vidal that would visit and they tought her some "skills" that they had developed. Since the town was off the shore, the children in Vidal had more priority for testing for abilities. This gave time for Issari to teach some of what she knew to Szalaban. Yet all good things come to an end as Authorities from Vidal came to the island to test the children. Szalaban was only 10 at this time, and he was tested with the other children, sadly he didn't have the "potential" to go back with them. Issari, however, was taken back. Over the years Szalaban refined all the skills that Issari had taught him. He figured if he could train his magical ability enough, he could see Issari again. His father never knew about this training, and decided to teach him the way of the blade, hoping that it would get Szalaban into an army. When Szalaban was 16, he was but through the trials of the warrior, and was sent out to the wilderness and had to make his way back to the town. Szalaban had always been fond of the outdoors and completed the task in only a day, where as it usually took three. Upon his arrival, he saw that the town was being raided by pirates. He had no weapons to attack them with so he had to use his magic abilities to ward off the invaders. He successfully defeated the pirate invaders and helped the townsfolk recover, while making his way home. When he got home he found his father laying in a pool of blood, barely alive. He quickly went to his fathers side, where his father told him about a relic that was stashed under the house. It's abilities and purpose were unknown, so Szalaban's father figured it would be best to give it to him in hopes of awakening it's power.
Szalaban's victory soon spread to the ears of high ranked people in Vidal and thus he was requested into the Black Guard. He was happy to go to Vidal in hopes of seeing Issari again. He took a ship to the capital and he was made into a Dark Guard. He was good at this as well, and was awarded some time off, which he used to search for Issari. He asked around and the others there knew her, and told him she helped discover new Dark Abilities. So, Szalaban met up with Issari once again and they kept in touch over the years, and soon they fell in love, they were soon engaged at the age of 19, but Issari was sent out to investigate some disturbance in the outer city walls. Apparently someone claimed to see a dark figure kill a guard. Some time went by and Issari never returned, so Szalaban went to the location where the killing was said to have happened. When he got there he saw Issari laying on the ground and a dark figure about to stab her with a dagger. He quickly yelled out to the figure to drop their weapon, but instead the figure turned toward him and charged. It was extremely fast, and Szalaban had no time to draw his sword, but as the figure dawned on him, the amulet from his father started to glow a bright red, and then the figure was gone. Both Szalaban and Issari were confused, but glad whatever the figure was, was gone, and went back to the castle. Some time after that they had married and got permission to start a family. Soon after that Issari became pregnant and had been sent home to rest till the time came for birth. Szalaban never got the chance to see his child though, While on patrol, he was jumped by some cloaked men and they knocked him out with a strange gas.
When Szalaban came to, he found himself in a field somewhere in Lhazaar. He got up and a sharp pain suddenly formed in his head and visions of flames and dark spirits filled his sight, and he blacked out again. This time when he woke up, he was leaning up against a trader's cart. He wasn't sure what happened, but when he stood, he saw the trader was dead, and a sword in his chest. Szalaban was already holding a sword, so he figured the one in the dead man, wasn't his, but with closer inspection, it was. He then noticed that his amulet was missing, and the new sword in his hand. This new sword had the same insignia as the amulet which then made Szalaban realize that this was it's true form, a Cursed Blade. Afraid that he might hurt more innocent people, he dropped the Cursed blade, and grabbed the Short-Sword, and hid in the forest. He cleaned his sword off, but soon after he realized that this was no longer his short-sword, and became the Cursed Blade. He now knew he could not get rid of the cursed weapon, and he stayed in the forest for 2 years in an effort to control this new weapon. After that time went by, he had learned how to stay conscious during the blade's takeover, and had some control over that as well. a year went by and he had only visited small villages for the time being, but he had to visit a port town to return to his home, and that's the day he walked into Regalport.
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Gaian Username: Solomon Marquis
Name: Onaga Crystalash
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 6’4”
Weight: 237 lbs
Allegiance: Vidal
Class: Black Mage
Weapons: Large Morningstar and Repeating Crossbow
Appearance: Onaga is simply massive for a black mage. Tall and muscular, he easily stands out among the ranks of his fellow magi. Ashen is the skin upon him, kept pallid from his long hours indoors. His raven, waist-length hair is straight and smooth, usually tied back with a cloth covered with dried blood. His almond-shaped eyes are the typical crystal green of those born with magick potential, though his eyes are more of an emerald shade. His clothing is rather uncomplicated, consisting of nearly all black. A black cloth tunic and black loose trousers are his typical attire. His black leather boots are heavy and partially fitted with strips of steel. He wears a pair of black leather gloves, likewise sporting strips of steel on top and upon the knuckles, though flexible to not hinder hand gestures. While in public, he dons a large black steel mantle, covered with spikes for optimal intimidation. Attached to the back of the mantle is a long black cape, emblazoned with his personal symbol: a palm up emerald hand with a tiny emerald flame above each fingertip.
Personality: Onaga is more often than not a reserved individual. He remains nearly silent, unless he is spoken to. He does not fear private or social communication and will gladly discuss virtually any topic the other person, or he, might be interested in. Even though he is habitually aloof, Onaga carries within a terrible anger, which is used to stimulate is destructive magicks. While in this frenzy, he becomes even more depraved and callous than usual on the battlefield, slaughtering nearly anyone and anything in his path. However, this rage has only occurred twice in his life.
Onaga is not entirely heartless. Compared to most denizens of Vidal, he is one of the most benevolent. He feels love, compassion, and mercy, but hides such emotions away, as they are characteristically seen as pathetic and gratuitous. It is for that reason that he uses these emotions to fuel his fury, finding them to be even more powerful than his negative emotions.
History: Onaga was discovered to possess astonishing magick potential while within his mother’s womb. After his birth, he was immediately taken to the Academy of Sorcere like the other newborns gifted with magick. As he grew older, the other students, teachers, and even the headmasters had their share in tormenting the young Onaga. Sanity still intact, he eventually found the means by which to fight back against the other students. After studying vigorously at the age of eight, he learned to manifest the most powerful of destruction spells. When the abusive students returned, he slew them in various, and disturbing, manners. Eventually, he made a game of seeking out students who had wronged him and destroyed them in secret. It was not until he lost control in the courtyard, resulting in the death of twelve students, when the teachers and headmasters learned of his impressive power. They immediately rearranged his schedule to that of a Demophile, a Black Mage specializing in pure annihilation. He was kept under constant surveillance by the teachers, especially the headmasters, who were further impressed by his abilities when he did not suffer from terrible headaches like most Demophiles. A young student with such raw power was extremely dangerous. Therefore, he was to be kept in solitude.
Four years later, at the age of twelve, Onaga was finally allowed to interact with the other students. For nearly a decade, the only human contact he had been exposed to was that of the headmasters and teachers. They had familiarized him with all aspects of Black Magick, but the main focus was to be on destruction. The end of the war was drawing near and it was time for Onaga to see the battlefield. With no true understanding of what the war was about, he was lied to by the headmasters. They explained to him that the opposing side had killed his mother with brutal and vile tactics. This was both a mistake and a benefit, with the lives of thousands lost in a raging hurricane of arcane death.
After the war, Onaga was freed from his solitary confinement forever. He was then assigned to instruct other students at the Academy about destruction magick and martial combat, both melee and ranged. By teaching such forms of combat, he himself became even more skilled and perfected his own techniques. Such training allowed him to dominate even soldiers from Galifar in close-quarters combat.
The Regent Protector was not informed of Onaga’s existence for quite some time. When the time had finally come, she was not immediately impressed. He was of common birth; an aspect looked down upon by the nobles of Vidal. The Black Guard members surrounding her only added to her subtle insult by snickering and making petty invectives. Upon hearing such things, his anger grew, and he partially lost control. The aftermath consisted of every window in the room being completely shattered; the floor and walls were ravaged with deep fissures; the Regent Protector with a smirk on her face. Onaga was quickly initiated into the Black Guard and officially given the title of Demophile.
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Gaian Username: Oreyn
Name: Kanas Berne
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 110 lbs.
Allegiance: Vidal
Class: Black Mage
Weapons: A pair of thin daggers concealed on his body, and his aptly named “Body Bag” – a small ash-gray bag enchanted with dark runes that he holds bones and remains in for animating and experiments.
Appearance: The physical state of Kanas adequately reflects his knowledge and expertise in Necromancy. Of average height, his body is incredibly thin – a bag of skin and bones held together by sparse amounts of meat, as he puts it – with alabaster skin and gaunt features, and dark jade eyes. His face and body are tattooed with arcane markings, and his upper back is branded with a wyvern. Raven-colored hair tops his head, going down to his lower back with his bangs and the rest of his hair drawn to the sides. The right side he tucks neatly behind his ear; the left bound into a braid. The hair behind is tied into two small ponytails.
His thin body is draped in layers of clothing and robes. Leather boots adorn his feet, and dark pants cover his legs. His upper body consists of a white shirt and a black vest. A heavy black robe, decorated with silver trim, covers most of his body, going down to the middle of his shins. A gray sash holds shut his robe, and a pair of leather belts hang from his waist. One holds a variety of small pouches as well as his Body Bag; a leather-bound tome hangs from the other in a special holster. Black arm guards protect his hands, with a thick, dark gray bracelet on each wrist. A heavy black cloak covers everything, with a large hood that veils his face and a silver wyvern head as the clasp.
Personality: Kanas is a man that wears many masks. As his… art, is frowned upon by countless other cities and centers of people, he is forced to take up aliases: the most common of which is a timid scholar, scared of the slightest things and always running from a fight. To those who find out his true self, or those who know him, he is cold and cynical, distancing himself from others. When forced to fight, he is often highly sadistic, keeping his enemies from dying just long enough to make them suffer while he sizes up their bodies for use in his “Little legion”. Always calculating, always sizing people up.
History: Kanas was born the child of a poor family, but, like of his brethren, was found to have incredible magical potential, and was plucked from his family and taken to learn the black arts. For years he studied the dark arts, isolating himself from most other people. At the age of 15 he was enrolled in the Nightson Institute where his morbid love of necromancy blossomed. For years the entirety of his being was focused on the study and practice of his crafts, spending a minimal amount of time to eat and drink, and just enough to sustain him. As an ironic result, the spark of youth that burned inside him slowly faded as his descent down the dark road furthered, until he resembled the lank corpses he worked with. In his later years, he would often sneak out and practice his arts in private.
Years passed, and his darker side grew with his morbid fascinations. His sadism and cynicism became well-known among other mages, and word of his deeds and his self eventually reached the ears of the Reagent Protector. Through her he was given several tasks behind the scenes, taking care of the dirty business. Slowly but surely his favor with her grew until he was inducted into the Black Guard and has been serving Vidal from the shadows since.
Name: Morte
Gender: Male
Age: Unknown
Height: 8’ even
Weight: 350 lbs.
Allegiance: Kanas (Vidal)
Weapons: Morte utilizes his inhuman strength, augmented by the spiked straps wrapped around his hands and feet.
Appearance: Morte is a hulking mass of muscle. His body is a menagerie of different corpses, combining the best of each into one creature. Countless stitches can be seen around his body, and arcane runes have been carved into various parts of his body to stabilize him. Charcoal black strips of leather are wrapped around his feet, legs, hands and forearms, with sharp spikes protruding all over them. His mouth is stitched shut, and his onyx eyes are veiled through stitches and the heavy metal helmet he wears to protect his skull. To hide his true identity, he is often draped in a heavy, tattered cloak and changed to something more presentable by Kanas with his magic.
Personality: Morte could be described as the strong, silent type. As a literal Frankenstein’s monster, he holds minor intelligence and sentience, but only enough to comprehend his master. He’s fiercely obedient to Kanas and is willing to do anything for him.
History: Morte’s past is relatively short. Created in Kanas’ later years as a protector and enforcer, he was to be the epitome of crafted corpses – his masterpiece. His necrotic flesh is as hard as any suit of armor, and his physical strength is equal to seven strong men. He speaks in incoherent mumbles, groans and roars, but Kanas seems to understand him just fine.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2008 1:54 pm
PIRATES
- + -
The Sea Fangs
Name: Wullf Maximas
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Height: 6’10”
Weight: 285 lbs
Allegiance: The Sea Fangs
Class: Swordsman
Weapons: Wullf’s main weapon is curved short sword, 24” blade, 12”handle. The blade is unconventional to say the least. The blade of the sword looks like something carved out of stone rather than metal do to the erratic nature of the blade. Within the 24” span of the blades edge several parts either curve further into the blade or further out from the blade, however the blades width never spans wider than 2 ½”. Down the blunt end the blade again curves in and out but not in the same areas the edge-half does. The handle is a tapered end of the blade, making the sword full tang, that is wrapped in leather straps. The end of handle has the fang of a wolf wrapped with the leather onto it. His extra weapon is a simple curved knife that always travels in Wullf’s left boot.
Appearance: Starting from head to foot a man, or woman, eying Wullf would first see his long gray hair laying free on his shoulders and almost touching his mid back. The gray hair has come do to hours on the open sea in the bright sun. Along with many a moments that would have turned a normal man’s hair stark white. After looking past a few loose bangs you would see the same gray eyebrows nestled on top of eyes that held two sapphire spheres. Those eyes can look like sparkling gems to one person, and cold orbs that promise death to another. A fairly common nose centers the pirates face then followed mouth that surprisingly still has all its own teeth. Wullf’s ears are mostly covered by his wild hair, but a lobe pops out every now again. Small side burns, also gray, helps trim out the man’s face and a small goatee, yep gray again, tops his square chin. After Your done with the head the rest falls into place. Tight developed muscles poke through here and there, hardened from life at sea. A black leather sleeveless tunic covers his chest, held tight around his waist with one large leather belt, and a smaller one for his sword. The tunic comes past his belts a ways followed by a pair of faded blue pants tucked into rolled down black boots. A few leather belts lash around Wullf’s thighs to give some protection in combat but not much. Upon his wrist, two leather guards do there part in protecting Wullf’s tools of his trade.
Personality: If you manage to get passed the pirates exterior appearance you would find a man who enjoys life and a man for the people. This surly pirate has a firm belief in honor and respect; which led him to where he is today. This man will be the first to stand by your side; and the last to leave it. When it comes to trust you won’t find a better person to leave it with. Wullf also enjoys a good joke and tells a few bad ones himself.
History: Wullf started his life like many a men of age in Lhazaar, joining the Merchant Marine do to the “Edict of Service.” Up to that point his life had been boring for the most part; no adventure, no excitement, and no fun. However he knew he would be drafted into the Merchant Marine as soon as he turned of age, and on the day of that birthday he was. This gave Wullf his training as a swordsman and his knowledge of a boat. He learned how to wield a sword with confidence and to always carry a dagger in his boot. After Wullf’s first year of services he volunteered to continue and began his path down his dream career.
That all came crashing to an end when his ship was attacked by a pirating band. The pirates attacked without warning and without mercy. They fought with a ferocity that Wullf had never seen before, and neither had many of the still green recruits. There was no fight, it was a massacre. Wullf managed to defend himself for sometime and kill at least two of the attackers. The next thing he knew he had a blacked out after a painful blow to the back of his head. To his surprise Wullf awoke on the floor of the pirates galley. The captain of the ship gave him a choice to join them or see if he could swim with a cannon ball strapped to his legs.
The next day Wullf was given the chore of scrubbing the deck with a bucket of dirty water and a horrible old horse brush. Taking each day with a grain of salt Wullf continued to live aboard his new home, and witness first hand how easily the pirates were getting around and attacking merchant ships. After a time Wullf was “promoted” to normal deck hand until he got into a dispute with another pirate. The dispute ended with Wullf driving the other man’s sword into his gut. The captain then gave Wullf the job of training all his men in the swordsman’s art. After about a year of this Wullf had also picked up fighting tips from his fellow pirates and learned to adapted his swordsman style with the ferocity of a good left hook, and other attacks. Through this whole time Wullf had been lucky enough to never have to be apart of a boarding party. The captain thought his ability to teach his men was to important to risk in a boarding, almost to important.
It was an attack on a merchant ship loaded with food supplies. The ship, unknown to the pirates, was carrying many hardened Merchant Marine who had hoped for just such an act. The pirates found a similar massacre much like the one they gave to Wullf’s old crew. The Marines boarded the pirate ship and began going down the ship passing judgment upon all they found. The pirate captain was the first to fall and left his crew trying desperately to survive the onslaught. Wullf managed to rally enough of the crew to push the Marines back long enough to get away. With their ship badly damaged the wounded pirate ship drifted until it beached itself on a small island.
- + -
Rennais' Cutlass
Gaian Username: Zelyhon
Name: Ilon Nightson (alias: Shuyel Yijeni)
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Height: 6’
Weight: 215 lbs
Allegiance: Rennais’ Cutlass
Class: Black Mage
Weapons: Bone Rapier, Oldim. The sword is carved from a single bone and, through various runes, maintains its edge and durability even in the face of stronger materials. The grip is wound with leather and the hand guard is a durable web of steel. An amber orb is held in the base of the hilt. Along the sides of the sword are inscribed runes that seem to absorb the light around them slightly, appearing black as night.
Appearance: Ilon stands with good posture, which tends to give him an aristocratic bearing. The look in his turquoise blue eyes doesn’t help, as they seem to regard all around them with disdain. He has black hair, tied back in a single ponytail that reaches around mid-way down his back. His hair always appears well combed and cared for. As for clothing, Ilon prefers to wear a shirt of fine dark green silk. Underneath that, he wears simple light leather padding, as a form of light armor. This does not restrict his movements, but in return it is only moderate at guarding him. He wears his blood stained navy blue coat with pride and is almost always seen wearing it. The coat is warm and helps to protect from the weather at sea. On his hands, he wears thick leather gloves. He removes the gloves to use his more complex magics. At that time, a viewer could see that his hands have been permanently stained red through contact with blood. He wears simple loose silk pants, the same color as his shirt. Beneath these he wears leather padded armor as well. His heavy boots are well worn and have obviously seen many conflicts.
Personality:His personality is cold and aloof, even to his own crew. He never smiles, except occasionally when confronted with particularly lucrative prey or on the discovery of a powerful or valuable piece of loot. Even then, his smile is akin to that of a wolf; sharp, cold and deadly. He treats all around him as though they were his underlings. He is fortunate that this is true on his ship. He cares nothing for human life, as is evident in the common orders given to his crew. The galley of the ship is kept stocked with a good number of slaves, to either be sold or used as fodder for his magic. He is not a particularly charismatic leader, but his magic and the results the crew gets make up for this. Even after sailing for some years, he tends not to involve himself in the actual running of the ship, leaving that to more qualified hands. Instead, he chooses to remain apart from that, issuing orders and directions regarding destinations or targets.
History: Ilon was born to a more minor line of the Nightson family. As with all magical children, he was taken from his mother once it was determined that he could use magic. Despite how low in the pecking order he would be at court, the other children tended to defer to him in many regards. This lead, eventually, to his arrogance and study of domination magic. As he went through school, he focused heavily upon the magic of controlling others, forcing them to do various tasks for him. He also studied semi-vampiric leeching spells and those that could cause pain, blindness, or other such ailments at some range. Once he had completed his training, Ilon was inducted into the military, to become a soldier in the eventual war with the Holy Empire.
He spent his time out of the army familiarizing himself with the dance of the court. He, a quick study at the behavior of others, made his way up the ranks of the lower tiers quickly. He had not managed to make his way into the upper levels of court, though a few in power were beginning to whisper his name. He aimed to take as much for himself as he could, to stand above all others. Before he could accomplish that, he would need to finish his time in the military, or get transferred to a comfortable command position. Before that could happen, though, he and his squad were dispatched on a routine scouting mission. On their return, they were ambushed by forces from The Holy Empire. Caught off guard, the soldiers fell quickly. They managed to defeat their
Gaia Username: Fenrir SongMoon
Name: Kravus Cannith, “Black Cannith”
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 287 lb.
Allegiance: Pirate, Rennais' Cutlass
Class: Pirate
Weapons: He carries a massive cutlass that looks like it could easily chop someone in half.
Appearance/Personality: The first thing one would notice about Kravus is the fact that he is a mountain of muscle. He looms over those around him, and he is quite aware that his massive frame is intimidating; especially with the way he swaggers. The second thing one would notice are the mass of ugly and rippled scars covering his body. Beyond those two things, the other features start coming out; his hair is short and black, usually a windblown mess. He keeps himself clean shaven. His eyes are a surprisingly light blue, but despite the soft color, there is no compassion left behind them. While hard to see, he is missing a few molars. His nose has been broken to many times to be considered straight. While he isn’t ugly, the damage done to his body has certainly made him not attractive. On his chest, a large silver serpent has been tattooed; however, a larger, jagged and red scar forms an ‘X’ right through it, destroying a good deal of the art, and showing that this destruction was deliberate.
His manner of dress is somewhat loose and flowing. He wears a long cotton vest with no shirt beneath it, and the vest has long since lost its buttons. The vest is stained a dark red color in most spots, with a dingy blue peeking out in a couple spots. Heavy leather bracers dyed a deep black color are worn at all times. He deigns to change his pants on a regular basis, since he doesn’t like to smell himself, but they are all of the same loose fitted style that sailors frequently wear. The color depends on which pair he is wearing, naturally. Finally, down to his feet, a thick set of boots that match the bracers adorn them.
Whatever Kravus once was, he shows no sign of it now. His temper is chaotic, shifting from being in a good mood to angry and back in a flash. He is violent to a tee. Outside of his total instability and complete lack of morals, he has a very dark humor and serious nature, enjoying vast amounts of alcohol, and keeping himself in an oblivious state until the next fight breaks out. Unlike most muscle, he isn’t stupid; he just doesn’t want to think, because thinking makes your heart start to hurt.
History: When Kravus was young, his presence in House Cannith was well known. He was popular, friendly, and well groomed. He was growing at an incredible rate into a young giant, and someone of his physical stature was noted. His mind was sharp, and his conscience was strong. He moved within the upper echelons of society, and was becoming a mover and a shaker.
His induction into the Merchant Marines was entirely expected, as the Cannith family had a strong tradition there. His rise to officer was a given, since he was a fine and outstanding member of a noble house. His career seemed to be an easy path to excellence. He remained towards the rear lines of any battle front, and had very little to do with actual command, despite his rank. He gained a trophy wife of exceeding beauty, and had a baby boy with her. His physical prowess made the soldiers respect him, despite how little battle he had actually seen; his sparring skills were top notch.
All of this began to rapidly change, however. Ilon Nightson had spotted him. Wanting him for his own crew, he began to engineer ways for the man to fall from grace, and fall hard. Through use of his domination magic, he began to create rebel uprisings near where Kravus had been stationed. Thinking it to be no large matter, his unit moved to take care of them, but so began the first of the problems he would have. While engaging the enemy, Ilon made his appearance, and commanded one of the troops secretly to assassinate Kravus’ second-in-command in front of him. The attack had come unexpected and was immediately successful. Kravus was horrified, and in a panic, drew his own sword and slew the man who had no idea why he had just done what he had done. Due to the chaos, more than half of his unit was lost before the small insurgency was put down.
When his superiors heard of the horribly botched mission, he was brought to defend himself. While he was not discharged, he was sternly punished for having failed as a commander, and for having killed his fellow soldier instead of capturing him for questioning. His rank was reduced, and he was now stuck playing patsy to another naval officer.
Beginning to crumble under the shame of his failure, and more importantly, the first real punishment he had ever received in his life, he quickly started to become a mess. He turned to alcohol as a way to escape reality, and whenever he was off duty, was typically drunk and alone. He had never developed a way to cope with any pain of the sort in his entire life, as it had practically been handed to him on a silver platter. To make matters that much worse, Ilon struck again. After a night of heavy drinking while away from home, he awoke to a dead prostitute in his bed. He didn’t remember having done it, but the damage done to her body could only been from someone who had fists the size of melons; someone such as him. Of course, having been a very faithful husband, this came as multiple blows. He snuck out, under cover of night to bury the body in the woods. While digging the grave, tragedy struck again. A young couple had snuck off into the woods, and had managed to have just enough to drink to have not heard him on their way home, but to be aware enough of what they saw. When they came stumbling into his lamplight, having thought they made it back to town, but quickly realizing their mistake, it was too late. They had seen, and the girl began to scream. Panicking, Kravus tried to make her stop in the only way that would present itself to his fracturing mind; hit her with the shovel. Aghast at the man who had just crushed his girlfriend’s skull, the boy threw himself at Kravus in a blind rage, and the fight ended poorly for the teenager who was half of the Marine’s size. Now with three bodies to bury, he began to go into a sensory overload, and he could barely remember the rest of that night, or even the next few days as he moved as if in a dream.
Hallucinations and nightmares were beginning to haunt him. He wasn’t sure what was real any more. Everything had started to fall apart so quickly, and the alcohol didn’t help. He seemed to vaguely recall conversations that hadn’t happened, such as the one where he had been told to kill his commanding officer. Unfortunately, that had been another one of Ilon’s schemes. When summoned to meet with this officer concerning how his personal life was beginning to affect his work, he simply slew the man behind closed doors before he could react. Stunned at his own actions, he couldn’t understand what was happening. He couldn’t understand why he did what he did. He left the office, blood still on his clothes, and proceeded to make things even worse. Some of his fellow Marines attempted to stop him from leaving, not knowing what had happened, but seeing the blood on his clothes. He immediately drew his weapon and began to hack his way out. Unprepared for such an internal assault, he managed to kill four Marines before escaping the base.
He fled through the countryside, stealing what he needed to survive; killing people who refused to give him what he wanted. Every time his sword fell, it became a little bit easier to swing it again. He slowly stopped trying to understand his actions and began to rationalize them, and when he kept punching holes through his own logic, even as he killed more people, he began to stop trying to rationalize them. Before long, all that remained was a shell of the man who had been. All that was left was instinct and violence, taking what he wanted for no reason other than wanting it; hurting for no reason other than he decided not to hold back a swing. His moral base had completely evaporated, and he had turned into a savage monster, killing families to sleep in their house for the night, not sparing women or children.
He made his way back to the coast, not able to stay away from the sea that had been his home for so long. His new self began to plan, and that plan involved stealing a boat and heading to see. He reached civilization once more, and he found something stunning. The Marines had been hunting him, and he hadn’t known it. Wanted posters were all about the town, a large bounty on the head of “Black Cannith”, his picture on the papers. He couldn’t help but feel pride; knowing he had caused such damage, and hurt so many like he had hurt. He decided to keep the name. While pondering how to make the bounty even larger, and how to escape with a boat, the Marines caught up with him, having been tipped off by a citizen of the city that he was in the area.
The situation probably would have ended for him right then and there if it hadn’t been for the fact that Ilon was still watching over him. The Black Mage stepped in and helped Black Cannith defeat the Marines and ushered him onto his ship. He knew not what he wanted, but saw how brutal the Mage’s magic was in dealing with the Marines, and knew that he had found someone who wasn’t so dissimilar from himself. He decided that he would stick with the man for the time being, and quickly found that his growing penchant for violence was easily satiated while around this man. Slaves to abuse, enemies to slaughter, he had all the pain and suffering he could dream of causing. He quickly feel into a state where he can’t even remember what came before Rennais' Cutlass and doesn’t even care about what that past might hold. His mind rarely wanders to anything but the next source of violence. His dedication to the ship and Ilon garnered him the right to be called First Mate.
Of course, the story doesn’t end quite there. Not long after he had joined the ship, another member of the Cannith family, leading a naval vessel, caught up to them. He denounced Black Cannith, telling him he was no longer a member of the family. In return, Black Cannith stabbed himself in the chest and cut out an ‘X’ through the tattoo that had marked himself as such, and with a bloodthirsty roar, lead the attack that would kill all of the Marines present, and his relative.
Gaian Username: Lady Zoiyendra
Name: Anabella Rainecourt, "Belladonna"
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Height: 5'9 (5'11 with boots on)
Weight: 134
Allegiance: Rennais’ Cutlass
Class: Rogue
Weapons: A colorful variety of knives and poisons are at her disposal.
Appearance: At a first glance, you'd say "Oh, she's pretty." At a second glance, you'd realize that while, yes, she's pretty, there's something a little off. By the third glance, you'd realize she looks like she's going to slit your throat. Bella is a woman who carries herself in a dignified manner--a stark contrast to her profession. She is slender, although slightly hourglass-shaped, and somewhat tall for a woman. Long, black hair that looks well-kempt frames her face and falls just below her shoulderblades in the back. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, with thick lashes that cover hazel irises that are either calculating and cold, or amused at someone else's expense. Full, painted lips often give her a more feminine look, though they're downright wicked when they pull back into a smirk. Her facial features lean slightly toward the soft side, but at the right angle, her profile appears very sharp. A lot of her expression comes from her eyebrows, which shift accordingly to her thoughts or mood.
For clothes, Bella typically wears warm colors, often deep reds, browns, and blacks. Her boots are heeled, and give her an extra two inches to her height. They are black with a gold buckle strap, and stop mid-calf where black stockings pick up to cover her legs. They disappear under a skirt that is made of tanned leather and stitched up the side, although it is designed to allow her a lot of leg-movement, for running, kicking, or what-have-you. Set over her hips is a large belt with a golden buckle, that give her a more shapely appearance. She typically wears a brown jacket, with sleeves that stop at about mid-elbow, slightly rolled up. It usually stays unbuttoned to reveal a maroon top underneath that stitches together at the front. It stops at the torso, allowing a little skin to be shown. Bella also wears gloves, a thin inner layer that stops just before her elbows, and a thicker outer layer that goes just beyond the wrist. This is because she deals with poisons, and it be best that she not spill any on herself. A few minimal stains on her attire suggest her work is not always clean.
It should be noted that she keeps her arsenal and inventory spread out on her person, though she's been known to carry a leather bag of supplies at times. And if needed, she'll pull her hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of her way or pull on a heavy overcoat for rough weather.
Personality: Bella is, in essence, what many would describe as a cruel woman. She takes pleasure in others' misery, and cares very little for human life. She is clever and cunning, and uses that to her advantage, in both getting slaves for the slave trade and in the acquisition of information. She drives hard bargains--her information is valuable, and you must be wealthy to afford it. She knows her way around most cities, and is thoroughly enmeshed in two networks of trade, one of information and the other of slaves. Killing and torture are pasttimes, and her idea of a good evening is drinking something that burns going down and keeping an open ear for juicy news. She is a woman who loathes the idea of using her sexuality to get what she wants, and turns instead to the merciless application of physical harm with interest of death if you do not readily pay up. She has pride in that she does not result to using feminine wiles, and if you insinuate she does, you will find a knife to your throat--if it's not already through. Outside of that, she is not so easily angered, and relatively cool and collected. She doesn't panic in bad situations and this level-headedness of hers has gotten her out of many a situation. Outside of trading and pirating, Bella's hobbies include reading mystery novels, knife-throwing, and anything dealing with poisons.
History: Bella is not an important person. She never was. She was born to a family of six in Lhazaar, and when hard times hit, her family sold her and her youngest sister to the slave trade so that they would have enough money to survive. She was eight at the time, and never saw it coming.
She was eventually separated from her sister, and found herself alone and in a cruel, unforgiving world of slavery and inequality. Everything she knew had been turned upside down. And it changed her. She became just as devious and heartless as those around her. She'd play by their rules to survive. She became a liar and a thief, and the more she did it, the less ashamed she felt, until she could do it without remorse, and without a second thought. But it was with one master in particular did she get introduced into the worlds of poisons and antidotes. He was one of the better owners she'd had, and needed an assistant in his laboratory. She was quick to be educated, a hunger in her eyes for such knowledge that she knew could lead to power. Eventually, she was sold again (due to repeated complaints brought on by his daughter) and she resented the fact that she hadn't learned everything she could from him.
However still, she found her means of escape through his teachings. It was a combination of perfect timing and an accident that had her last master dead and the keys to her shackles in her hands. Free at last, she took what she could that would be of use to her and fled. Four years after initially being sold, seven owners later, she was free. And she was certainly not the same girl she used to be.
From then on it was a race to get better, to get on top to insure she'd never be in that situation again. She'd learned a lot of information from being a slave and having different owners, overhearing bits and pieces of conversation. With that she was able to get her foot in the door in the world of information bartering, and eventually into the world of slave-trading once more, but this time as a trader herself. In addition to this, she picked up no meager skill in knife-wielding as a means of defending herself, and she is certainly dangerous with such a weapon in her hand.
But perhaps what is even scarier is her vast knowledge and application of poisons and their antidotes. As soon as she was able to, she picked up from where she left off, doing her own research and experiments, traveling to find more than what she knew. But it is not necessarily the knowledge that is scary, but the fact that she readily uses that knowledge. She finds poisons a more reliable method of information gathering than gold, because bartering with your life tends to be more serious than bartering with currency. It is also not certain when she began to use the nickname Belladonna, other than it was before she became a popular informant.
Finally, about six months ago, she happened across the pirate Shuyel Yijeni. She was valuable to him, and in turn for refuge, he offered her a place on his ship. She became fiercely loyal to him. What she does not know is that it's his doing and not her own decision.
Regardless, she finds life as a pirate enjoyable, for she still can do all the things she does otherwise. Shuyel gives her the freedom she needs to collect her information, or sell it, as long as he gets a cut of the profit and she's back on the ship by the time he's ready to depart. Having said that, there has been once or twice she has not made it back in time due to some trading difficulties, and has had to catch up. That's OK though. She's got "friends" in high places, and finding out where he's heading is certainly not a challenge for her. She always finds her way back under his wing.
It should be noted that Bella does not know, nor does she care how her family is doing. She doesn't even know if her youngest sister is alive. Needless to say, it's probably better this way.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2008 4:23 pm
MERCENARIES
- + - Name: Caelan Moloch
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 215 lbs.
Allegiance: Mercenary
Class: Knight
Weapons: Obsidian sword and axe, named Atsureki and Zansatsu respectively.
Appearance: Tall and well-built but not quite muscular, Caelan wears leather armor when he's not planning on going into battle. His skin is pale and covered with scars due to his many battles. Caelan's hair is long and goes to the middle of his back while his eyes are unlike any from Vidal: hazel. In fact, they change according to Caelan's mood: green when angry and blue when happy. When in a prepared battle, Caelan wears a full set of pure black armor, with a facemask on the helm depicting Valen. He also regularly carries an enormous pack with him, containing everything he owns and needs.
Personality: A quiet man, he usually refrains from talking. Usually a bit of a pessimist, he rarely trusts people. The only being he really trusts enough with his own life is his companion/pet, a large wolf named Conall. When he's in trustful company, he's much more relaxed and he tends to make a scarce joke.
History: Before Caelan was born, his life was already filled with violence and blood. His mother was raped in Vidal, and ran before the government found out she was pregnant with him. She did whatever was necessary to run away, including murdering a guard or two. Along the way, she found a young wolf whom she named Accalia. She had almost successfully escaped when she finally gave birth to Caelan. She found herself too weak to continue, so she strapped Caelan to Accalia's stomach and set him across the Vidal/Galifar border. An hour later, she was found and killed.
Caelan was then picked up by a poor farmer's wife, who raised Caelan and protected him. Caelan was protected as an infant from the farmer so he wouldn't attack and unintentionally kill him. As he got older, the wife couldn't protect him anymore, and he began getting actual beatings. When Caelan was finally five years old, the poor farmer kicked him out of the house and sent him to the Barracks. Without being told to, Accalia followed. A day after he left, the farmer's home burned down, killing both the farmer and the wife.
Caelan spent the next ten years training in the Barracks, never speaking. While training, Caelan was repeatedly beaten and picked on for not only supposedly being a mute, but also for being an orphan. During this time, however, some people were suspiciously falling ill to an unidentifiable disease and dying. In fact, at one point, one of the members of the house of House Cannith, Caelan's greatest bully, fell ill to the same disease and died. After this, everyone more or less left him alone.
After training in the Barracks, Caelan was accepted in the Order of the Shield, where he studied hard. During this time, whenever he wasn't training, he was working on a puzzle box his mother had left him. Halfway through the Order of the Shield, Caelan had solved the puzzle box and found the story of his life. Caelan was a member of the now almost-extinct House of Moloch. They were enemies of the House of Nightson and were cursed by them, leaving death wherever they went. Not only that, but he also had heirlooms to reclaim. Soon afterwards, Accalia died, leaving behind a pup whom Caelan named Conall.
Caelan sped through his training, and went through his five years mandatory service. Caelan then went to Vidal to reclaim his heirlooms, a suit of armor, Atsureki, and Zansatsu. Caelan then traveled throughout Alvirad, and for now has taken up position at Regalport.
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Gaian Username: Alaundria
Name: Mina Starchylde
Gender: Female
Age: 15
Height: 5' 2"
Weight: 101
Allegiance: Vidal/Rebel Faction
Class: Black Mage
Weapons: Dark crystal rod (for casting and channeling) issued to her by the Academy of Sorcere for outstanding work in her studies, and a small, well crafted antique bronze and silver dagger decorated with house Kell emblems, an heirloom that has been passed down in her family for generations.
Appearance: Mina stands about five feet, two inches high. She has a sender, sculptured build, though a small amount of baby fat still hints at her youth. She has eyes of a blazing emerald hue and flowing waist-length silver hair that she usually keeps in an aristocratic upsweep. A small, black wyvern is emblazoned on the inside of her right wrist, marking her as a low ranking relative to the house of Nightson.
Personality: Mina, despite her schooling in the Black arts, is usually a quiet, shy and timid girl, preferring the the quiet company of a book to conflict and violence. She is often troubled with feelings of guilt and contrition over the deeds sometimes required of her by the academy, and by her own rapidly growing power in the dark craft. However, she is not opposed to using black magic for purposes that she feels are right and just, and has a tendency to plough over anyone who gets in her way over matters she feels strongly about. She has a fierce temper, and when it accompanies her use of dark magic the results can be disastrous. She is intelligent, both through her schooling at the academy and through her own scholarly nature, and generally levelheaded, though she is still prone to the occasional childish outburst. Balancing this is a wisdom and maturity instilled by her training at the Academy, and an understanding that to survive in unpleasant times, one must sometimes employ unpleasant means. Mina is often troubled by the plight if her fellow Vidalians and the preferential treatment of magic users, a holdover from her brief interviews with her parents at the academy and her fathers political viewpoints. She generally views her work as a necessary evil.
History: Mina Starchylde is the first and only child of Ansen Starchylde, second cousin of Alexandra Nightson, and his wife Darelia Starchylde. It is well known among the nobility of Vidal that Alexandra and Ansen have very different views, and often there is conflict between the families. At birth Mina was identified as an infant with great magic potential, and she was spirited away to the Academy of Sorcere. Ansen Starchylde, an accomplished Mage himself, was never happy with his daughter being conscripted to become a Black Mage, but being unable to do anything about it, He tried to instill in his young daughter a sense of purpose and ethics in the brief meetings they had together. As she grew in age and in skill it was obvious that she was well on her way to becoming a powerful mage. She far surpassed her fellow classmen in her studies, becoming the youngest student, and the only female in her class, to be recommended for Archon training.
There is speculation among many of her jealous classmates that her nobility and relation the the Nightsons may be the reason for her soaring through the ranks. It most certainly is the reason she was allowed weekly visits with her family, when the other students were lucky if they even saw theirs once a year. Still Mina smiles with confidence, knowing that although she has been handed some things, she has worked very hard for others. Mina's studies have left her little time for friends or personal life. She has but one real companion, a small falcon named Narix who she has reared from a hatchling.
Since she was seven years old, Mina has been betrothed by the state to a man named Garrishon Alderwick, a wealthy silver merchant of noble background, With holdings in both Vidal and Galifar. He is a man twice her age, with a lecherous reputation and an odious countenance. Her father has succeeded in delaying the union for several years, but recently Mina turned fifteen, the legal age for marriage in Vidal, and the family has run out of excuses.
Recently relations between the Nightson and Starchylde Households fell apart, and Ansen and Darelia went missing. A street cleaner found their grisly remains hanging from a streetlamp along one of Baldur's Keep's main streets. Apparently the couple had been tortured before they died. News of the assassination (obviously the work Alexandra's Black Guard) has spread through Balder's Keep like a a wildfire. Rumors have begun to swirl that house Starchylde had been working with rebel groups in an attempt the overthrow Regent Alexandra. The news of her parents deaths and Aunt Alexandra's paranoia have reached Mina, leaving her with the realization that she is now alone in the world, and running out of time.
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Name: Dren
Gender: Male
Age: 40
Height: 6’
Weight: 200
Allegiance: Mercenary
Class: Martial Artist
Weapons: He uses, along with his fists, a heavy quarterstaff, and throwing daggers (Carries 3 at all times) (If this is too many, let me know, I’ll take some off).
Appearance: Dren is six feet tall, with a lean muscular build. He walks with a certain sureness with each step, never seeming lost, or nervous. He is usually wearing some loose baggy brown pants held up by a drawstring, topped by a white tunic. He has long, black hair always tied back into a braid. His eyes are of a light blue color, that always seem to be scanning his surroundings. He wears light leather shoes that fit his feet snugly, that also give him a firm grip on the ground. His face is very angular, and somewhat bony, with multiple scars from accidents, or battle.
Personality: Dren is a very… calm individual. He doesn’t always speak a whole lot, but when he does, he wants to be heard, and it’s usually worth it to listen. He prefers to keep in the back of discussions, waiting until the right moment to speak. When with friends, he’s a bit more talkative, though he usually is teased about always being ‘too serious’. One of his personal beliefs is that everybody deserves a chance to be forgiven.
History: Dren has been trained in the martial arts in a monastery dedicated to Aquain for twenty years, since he was 8 years old. He was an orphan, taken in by the monastery at a very young age, brought to it by a fellow Monk on his pilgrimage, who found him and noted his early abilities and decided to bring him back to the Monastery for training. From then on his life was difficult to say the least. His days were filled with lessons, in fighting, religion, and history. Once he was deemed ready to leave the Monastery, he was sent on a pilgrimage of his own, to travel the world for two years. During those two years he witnessed skirmishes caused by the war, but never participated in them. He met many people, made friends and connections in many places. After his two years, he returned to the Monastery, where he taught some of the newer students for a few years, until current times, when things are changing; he has been getting an odd feeling that something significant is going to happen. Since he began getting that feeling, he returned to training, honing his skills, preparing.
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Gaian Username: Ronyo Storm
Name: Ronyo Storm
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Height: 5’ 8”
Weight: 138 lbs
Allegiance: Druid Council/ Nature
Class: Druid, follower of Kyi
Weapons: Twin scimitars strapped to his back right shoulder. The blades are imbued with magick to retain their edge and to give off slight elemental effects. Both blades have bone handles in the shape of fangs wrapped with leather. Ronyo’s right blade is Wolf Fang, and causes any wound it creates to feel a stinging cold. His left blade is Dragon Fang, which causes all wounds to burn and sting.
Appearance: Ronyo always wears his forest green long sleeved tunic and pants. His white hair is from his mother’s large connection with nature, and is always tied back in a pony tail held by leather straps. No one is sure what caused the color but no one seems to mind. Ronyo’s eyes are hazel with more green than gold. Over his normal clothes he dawns his leather cuirass with bone scale mail covering the front in a triangular fashion pointing at his belt. The thigh guards fall to about Ronyo’s knees and also bares the bone mail. Ronyo’s gauntlets are also leather with the bone mail protection as are his boots. A crimson sash holds the cuirass tight against the druid and his father’s belt secures the sash, but is also for adornment. Ronyo’s most unique feature is his flowing crimson scarf the wraps around his neck.
Personality: Ronyo has always enjoyed nature and loves conversing about it. His favorite subjects are always the animals throughout the world. Ronyo always keeps a positive outlook on life around him even when others find it annoying. Around friends Ronyo is even more light hearted, but never allows himself to become unaware of his surroundings. However in recent years Ronyo has become more and more aware of the goings on in the rest of Alvirad. The Holy Empire’s inquisition is widely disputed amongst the druidic council and often frowned upon. Through this Ronyo has taken a disliking to the Empire and made many attempts to convince the council to send someone to talk with the Empire.
History: Ronyo’s mother was a druid as well, and a follower of Kyi. However like many druids Ronyo’s mother, Lily, took to the martial arts and the styles imitating animal behavior. Her strongest technique is her Tiger Eagle, which is quite effective. Ronyo’s father was an accomplished warrior from Galifar who fought in the war. After which Ronyo‘s father, Raven, retired and came to settle near Forest’s Edge. From there the warrior met the druid and things fell into place. Soon Ronyo was born and began learning from both his parents. The strong warrior instincts from both parents beget for a child with much energy.
Eventually Ronyo was taught the finer ways of both druid and warrior and his twin blade style reflects that. The animal styles influence his movement and patients in combat, while the techniques of a fighter helped drive his blades to defend and strike. It was only natural that Ronyo learn to embrace nature and all things around him with his mother being so devout in her druidic ways.
When Ronyo came of age he too joined the druidic order as a follower of Kyi. Since then he has befriended many animals and set himself to patrol the forest as often as he can. With his weather magick he uses the winds to help push him along so he can cover as much of the forest as one man can, and it is a big forest.
On occasions Ronyo comes across a woman from the Empire. This woman, Rayne, is a hunter who has come to live within the forest. At first Ronyo was apprehensive about a hunter living in the woods, but soon realized that she only hunted for food. The rest of the animals she sold to those who could do something with the parts, but never wasted anything. The times when Ronyo sees the hunter they always share a meal and talk about the forest and other happenings in the world. Ronyo has come to trust the hunter in keeping her part of the forest protected and has even convinced the council to call the area Rayne dwells as the Passage of Rayne.
As of late Ronyo has found many Imperial inquisitors around the forest imposing there rights on people, and that has only increased Ronyo’s want to let the druidic council confront the Empire.
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Gaian Username: Mr. Blackbird Lore
Name: Ilias Murdock
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 190 lbs.
Allegiance: Mercenary
Class: Ranger
Weapons: Spatha, an oak shortbow, and a longbow.
Appearance: Ilias is a lithe man with a streamlined body and well defined muscles. His hair is dark brown, and his eyes are a deep crystal green. His typical demeanor is calculating and stern. His expression is enough to ward off children and keep the most uninteresting people away. He also possesses a number of scars: the most visible begins at the left corner of his mouth and continues straight down to his jaw. Beneath his shirt, the scar is resumed upon his pectoral, and stops even with the bottom of his sternum. Another appears upon his back and extends from the middle of one shoulder blade to the other.
He dresses to account for mobility, durability, and camouflage. The cuff of his leather boots is just a couple inches beneath his knee, but his straight-legged trousers cover most of them anyways. The trousers are cotton and woven from threads of multiple shades of green and brown. His belt is brown, and the clasp is made of a dull iron. At his right hip are his quiver of arrows and his spatha. At the back are three pouches for carrying various materials, and at his left is a larger pouch for carrying his cloak when he's not wearing it. His tunic is sleeveless and a mottled brown-green in color. Over this he wears a leather jacket. A leather sling hangs over his right shoulder and hangs down to his left hip. On the back, held in deer tubeskins, are his unstrung bows. Leather gauntlets reach up to his forearms; they do not cover his thumb and index finger nor any of his fingertips. At times, he covers himself completely with his dark brown, almost black, cloak that is made of a weave that is water-resistant. The operative word there is "resistant."
Personality: Ilias can be a very difficult person. At best, he's uncooperative; at worst, he's downright spiteful and standoffish. Extremely sarcastic, Ilias's humor can often come off as somewhat offensive or just downright depressing. He has a love for irony and sarcasm that no one else has ever matched. He has no soft spot for women or children; he treats them exactly as he would another male his age. Only rarely does a person capture his interest, and the last time that happened was two years ago. The aftermath hardened him even more; at least back then he was somewhat cooperative and rarely rude. Mostly, his personality serves as a defense mechanism to ward off others as most other people he classifies as too stupid or too egocentric. However, he can be drawn in by an intelligent conversation pertaining to politics, war, or the general follies of man. He has become an avid observer all three in the most recent years of his life.
History:Ilias was raised the son of a farmer and a stay-at-home mother in the Galifaran region. He was second eldest of five, but promoted to eldest when his older brother died. Ilias was ten at the time, his older brother eleven. It put a lot of strain on Ilias and his family, but mostly Ilias. His brother's chores were divided between himself and is only other sibling at the time, but quite unevenly. Regardless, Ilias worked himself to the bone trying to meet his father's demands. Rarely was a word of thanks spoken, and Ilias learned to work for nothing but a day's job well done. If it was not done well, Ilias would not accept it for there was no other form of thanks but that which he gave himself.
This quickly spread to all aspects of his life; he was competitive when playing with the other boys in the slums. He was competitive when he applied himself to become an archer's apprentice. He was competitive when he trained to become a fully marked archer. His competitive, ambitious spirit was greatly rewarded. Soon after becoming an archer he was invited to the Order of the Eagle. There he learned to use every form of bow as well as learn tracking, trapping, orienteering, and swordsmanship. There was nothing he didn't excel at because if he didn't excel, he was not good enough. During his years in the Order of the Eagle his skills were put to use multiple times to subdue mercenaries, bandit troupes, and vigilantes in the woods and on the plains of Galifar. As soon as he was offered a position to teach at the Order of the Eagle, he left.
And he didn't just leave the Order of the Eagle. He left the Galifaran military. He left Galifar altogether, and moved to the Golden Court of Sacea. There he built his own home, entered into a romantic relationship which went sour after only three months, and since then has lived alone. He feeds himself and makes a living off of hunting and trapping out in the Galifaran woodlands north of Sacea, and every so often ventures out there just to be alone. It's a solitary life, but he prefers it that way.
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Gaian Username: Alaundria
Name: Ona (originally Libby Pollion, but this name is unknown to her)
Gender: Female
Age: Approximately 26
Height: 5'4”
Weight: 130
Allegiance: Druid Council
Class: Druid (Kyi)
Weapons: Carved oak staff and hunting knife
Appearance: Ona, as she calls herself, is not what many would consider an “attractive” woman. She is sinewy and stocky, with a thick waist, wide hips and shoulders. She has a plain but honest face, set with burning amber eyes topped with wild eyebrows that are thick and expressive. Her skin is a deep mocha, partly from time spent in the sun, and party from her parents heritage in the deserts of the Empire, which is also the reason for her full, pronounced lips. Her feet are cracked, dusty and calloused from running the forest floor barefoot. She dresses in a wild mix of found clothing and animal hides which are draped and tied about her, baring her midriff. She insists this is not to be promiscuous, but to keep her clothes from restricting her movement when she is fighting. Her once straight coffee colored hair has matted into wild dreadlocks, which she decorates with various objects she finds. Ona collects feathers as a hobby, and she usually displays her collection on her person. Due to her wild lifestyle, she seldom bathes.
Personality: Ona has grown reserved and slightly antisocial from her time spent in the forest among the animals. As a child she was recklessly adventurous, seldom telling anyone were she was going before wandering off on her own. Her wild and unruly behavior has been a headache for many a caretaker, causing her to be shuttled from one home to another. Ona has grow into a quiet and sensible woman, though her adventurous streak still runs as deep as ever. She is typically silent, and may appear dense or stupid to people who do not know her. Those who take the time to listen to her words will find that she is very wise. Ona is practical and methodical to a fault, and grows irritable when she is made to change her plans or her routine. She can sometimes be stubborn and hard to get along with, but she is for the most part brave, loyal and resourceful.
History: Ona can barely remember the farmhouse on the Imperial border that she grew up in. She cannot remember the doll she played with or her mothers voice, or even her face father's face. Ona has even forgotten her own name. The one thing she can remember, though she would give to world to forget, is the night the bandits came to the house. Though her father pleaded with the assailants and offered them all that they had, in the end, the thieves chose not to leave witnesses, and the family was massacred. The youngest child, Libby, survived by hiding in a pantry. She was only three years old at the time. Still in shock from watching her family's slaughter, the frightened girl fled into the nearby forest, where she spent the night hiding under the roots of a tree. The next day she awoke to find that a storm had blown through, felling trees all around her and blocking her way out. She was hopelessly lost.
After wandering for two days hungry and disoriented, Libby met a bear. The terrified girl tried to run, but the huge creature caught her in its paws and held her pinned to the ground. Libby curled up into a ball and began to cry. She was surprised when the bear did not eat her, but instead offer her a reassuring nuzzle. Unbeknownst to her, the female bear had lost her cubs in the storm the night before, and saw Libby as a fitting replacement. The bear raised the little girl the best way a mother bear knows how, an Libby grew up strong and wild. Libby called her adopted mother Bahia, and as memory of her own name begin to fade, she called herself Ona.
Ona would be seven years old before she made contact with humans again. A hunter discovered her sleeping in a log and tried to catch her, but the girl put up such a fight that he was forced to let her escape. He began leaving food in the areas he knew she frequented, and eventually earned her trust. After finally coxing her into his house, the hunter and his wife set about trying to “tame” the wild girl. For the next few years, Ona struggled with learning to speak, eat cooked food, and wear clothes. Though the hunter and his wife cared deeply for the little girl, the were elderly, and raising the feral child proved to too difficult a task for the aging couple. At the age of nine they sent Ona to live with their oldest daughter Tella in Merponth, which proved to be a huge mistake.
Ona had extreme difficulty getting along with other children, often instigating fights, where she would bite and claw like a wild animal. Teachers complained about her unruly behavior, and sent her home fearing that she was too dangerous to be kept with the other students. Tella, who was a proper lady married to a nobleman, could hardly contain her frustration, and would often beat Ona when she would not behave. This only made the girl close herself off even more. Neighbors complained fiercely about the bear living on the grounds of the manor (for Ona had refused to leave unless Bahia came with her) and even with a full house of servants, it was impossible to keep and eye on the girl.
Lady Tella was ecstatic when a traveling druid named Oken arrived at her door one day and asked if he could water his horse at their well. Tella introduced him to Ona, and insisted that it was for the good of everyone that he take the girl off her hands. Oken's heart went out to the child, and he agreed to bring her back with him. Bright and early the next day, he set out with Ona at his side, mounted on Bahia's back.
Oken had a deep understanding of animals and the wild, and was able to succeed where others had failed in breaking through to the feral girl. He taught her self control, and how to reign in her wild emotions. He also taught her to fight with a stave, and she quickly became proficient in the art. Ona came to view Oken as her father, and eagerly absorbed all he had to teach her. She grew up at the druid council hall, where she was instructed by the wisest and most learned of the councilmen. At the age of ten, Ona entered into the service of Kyi, and became a Druid. The girl flourished in her new environment, surrounded by people who both cared for and understood her. Her closeness to the natural world sped her learning, and she quickly excelled at earth magicks and herbalism. She grew to be an excellent woodswoman and tracker, and her skills often found her work with the Imperials. Today Ona is a well adjusted, if not slightly odd, member of the Druid Council. Though she can speak both Imperial and Galifarn well, she has never learned to read or write. She is still extremely close to Bahia, her foster mother, and rides on her back as one would a horse. Bahia has since had other cubs, and Ona is often seen carrying them in a pack on her back when riding.
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