Welcome to Gaia! ::

Character Name:Sairaith
Nation: The Holy Nation of Sol Solis, however she does hide this fact and often travels to Saieth
Land: Merseyr
Knowledge of the line: Gunslingers are former Shadowmasters who moved to Merseyr and realized that their shadow armor was too cumbersome for them to be able to wear. They instead crafted guns and gunbelts from the armor. The guns and gunbelts cannot be passed on after death, unless willingly handed over. Separation from these items will eventually mean death for both the guns and the host.

Gunslingers are fast and have the ability to focus on multiple targets at once. They also have a high endurance level from the elements and in physical endurance.Gunslingers cannot wear heavy armor or much of any armor at all and are limited to long and mid range combat.
RP Sample:

The Merseyr desert, a literal deathtrap for those unprepared for its unforgiving nature. The golden sands almost appeared to be on fire, a sharp contrast to the pale blue of the skyline. But the sky was not a forgiving goddess, her limited cloud cover offered no protection from the blazing midday sun, in fact it appeared to amplify the rays' heat. A watery haze began to form in between the sand dunes, crafting itself in the way a spider crafts its web, but unlike the ethereal beauty of a dew covered sticky silk web, this web only created a suffocating barrier that was impossible to see once trapped in it.

A length of black broke through the haze, steadily forcing its way into open air. Its color changed as it walked out onto level ground, revealing a figure shrouded in a tattered beige oilskin duster that settled on its shoulders and fastened across its chest. A gust of wind and sand blew at the figure, pulling back the duster and showing a long female body. Black fabric wrapped tightly around her body, the cloth artfully designed to reveal both everything and nothing, it hugged the generous curve of her chest and hips and left nothing to the imagination. The seam of the top dived scandalously deep between her breasts and the bottom piece just barely covered the tops of her thighs. A red gauzy fabric wrapped around the black, offering nothing to the outfit but sensual decoration. The clothing was not designed for practicality, but rather to stimulate the more forbidden senses. In fact the only practical thing the woman was wearing, besides the long duster, was a pair of knee length black boots.

The woman moved with an air of natural grace, her steps steady in the soft sands, but they were also awkward as if she was used to exaggerating the sway of her hips when she walked. A second gust of wind came up and blew the duster back again, showing off a gun belt of tanned leather that rode low on her hips, barely staying up, like the belt wasn't designed with the woman's narrow waist in mind. The gun belt had several squared pouches attached to it, wrapping from her left side all the way to the small of her back. At her hips were two black six shooter pistols with a gorgeous sandalwood butts. The woman's nimble fingers traced the butt of the pistol with a loving caress as she muttered to herself. “One foot, then the next...c'mon Sairaith, it can't be that much farther....no one has to know what you've done...no one can know...” With that last line she whipped the pistol from the right side of her black belt, then with a practiced speed released the cylinder then spun it with her left hand before turning her right wrist to lock the cylinder back into place. She cocked the gun and placed it to her right temple and without hesitation she pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. The pistol whimpered with a small click, but there was no flash from the muzzle, no bullet drove itself into her temple to spill blood and brains onto the sands below. Sairaith whined softly to herself, running a hand through her vibrant red hair. Tears threatened to well up in her bright blue eyes as she pulled the cylinder to the pistol out to see that the single bullet was two chambers away from where she wanted it to be. “You can't kill yourself like that,” A male drawl caressed over her, laughing cruelly as she flinched in response, “That would be boring. No, no, I think it be much more appropros for you to go on living covered in blood you can't wash off.”

In one smooth motion Sairaith holstered the pistol and snapped her hands up to cover her ears, “Go away, voice!” She screamed, “You are NOT real, I do NOT have to put up with you, go away...go away...” The voice chuckled coldly before petering out and then disappearing. That stupid voice had been following Sairaith since “The Incident”.

“The Incident” was what Sairaith called her capture by a band of wandering thieves and pillagers. They had caught her off guard one day when she was practicing with her two newly made six shooters. A man had grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth with a cloth that had some sort of foul smelling chemical on it. The attackers had easily overpowered Sairaith, and she passed out before she could scream for help. When she woke she was naked, except for a thin piece of white fabric that billowed around her body, clinging to her in all the right places to tease male interests. Disgusting, dirty men hovered over her, leering at her, telling her all kinds of horrible things they wanted to do to her, but not a single one touched her. Their apparent leader ordered them to keep their mitts off of her lest they be cut off. She was a gift for their master and was to be kept virginal and pure. The very thought of being given over to some fat, lazy Sheik made Sairaith want to vomit, but she steeled her resolve.

Sairaith had been born to a lap of comfortable luxury, but her father made sure that she was kept busy, not with menial labor intended for servants, but with learning the art of Gunslinging. Every day Sairaith's father woke her up early to send her out for a run while the sun was still down. By the time she got back the sun was up and she was sent through a rigorous training schedule involving strength training, calisthenics, and most importantly how to clean, fire and care for a gun like it was your lover and life line. Then in the late afternoons and evenings, Sairaith's mother and tutor were allowed to have her and she went through etiquette training, dance lessons, learned how to be a lady and whatever boring schoolwork her tutor thought was appropriate to learn that day. While Sairaith preferred to be wrapped in the latest fashions at a formal dinner party, and while she enjoyed the everyday social life of being a lady kept soft with luxury, Sairaith was also trained to survive and fight.

And survive she did, Sairaith bided her time as the band moved through the desert, watching and waiting, absorbing all the information she could. Two weeks after her capture Sairaith caught sight of a little piece of heaven, her own six shooters resting on the hip of the band's master. She knew that the gun was around and nearby, or else she would no longer be alive and be in much more pain and agony than she all ready was. It took all of her energy and concentration to not jump the man and steal the gun right that moment, but Sairaith succeeded in maintaining the lazy air and grace that the other girls had developed since their capture. A sardonic look crossed her face for a few quick seconds as she surveyed the other harem girls. They disgusted Sairaith, all of them knew what their fate was going to be, but not a single one was interested in fighting back. They were willing to be at the constant beck and call of men who would do terrible things to them, but Sairaith had a plan for them so they wouldn't have to suffer.

She waited two more days before she caught wind of a wonderful piece of information, the band was not more than three days ride from the nearest village. Sairaith could easily make that ride, or even walk it if it came down to that. As night fell and the men fell into their drunken stupor, Sairaith made her move. She crept silently into the leader's tent and located the six shooter. It and its gun belt were haphazardly thrown across a folding table. Sairaith bared her teeth in a silent growl at the sight, the pure disrespect for something that was literally a part of her own body, but she calmed herself, her vengeance would be taken in time. She surveyed the tent and saw the leader's beige oilskin duster, she grabbed that first and then a carrying pouch which she filled with as much ammunition as she could, then a large flask filled with water and then finally she wrapped the gun belt around her waist. It seemed to purr when it touched her hips, the living threads moved and caressed the skin left bare at her hip bones. Sairaith sucked in a deep breath and it felt like air hit her lungs for the first time since her gun was taken from her. She felt alive again, energy coursed through her, and that energy screamed for vengeance.

She turned to look at the band's leader, he was naked in bed, lying on his stomach with one of the prettier harem girls. The sight made bile rise up in Sairaith's throat, but she pushed it back down and slowly sauntered over to the bed. She pulled her six shooter out and caressed it lovingly, willing it with a kiss to be silent when she fired it. The gun glowed for a moment and one would almost think that it was murmuring comfortingly to her. Sairaith placed the gun at the band leaders head and pulled the trigger. No sound erupted from the gun as the bullet streaked through the leaders head, shattering his skull and blowing his brains all over the tent wall next to him. The harem girl awoke as well and had just enough time to scream loud enough to wake the dead before Sairaith grabbed her head and snapped the girl's neck. Sairaith growled curses at the dead girl and reholstered her six shooter before running out of the tent.

Every where around her men struggled to their feet, but their movements were slow and sluggish. Sairaith smirked, in addition to having a lethal weapon on her body at all times, Sairaith was also proficient in crafting poisons. Tonight she had slipped one into the mens' wine, this particular poison made the victim's body feel heavy, in large enough doses it was capable of forcing a man's heart into overdrive, causing him to drop dead of a heart attack. It wasn't her poison of choice, but it's what she could make from the limited medical stores the men carried. She watched with a sadistic satisfaction as some of the larger men fell to the ground, clutching their chests. They writhed for a few long and painful seconds before they stilled in death. She used the confusion their unexpected deaths caused to rush to the harem girls' tent.

Sairaith was determined to free these girls from their slave life. She had planned for a rather unorthodox way of doing it as well that would both free them and save them for a painful death of dehydration and starvation in the desert. She grabbed two sealed urns that she had left outside the tent not twenty minutes before, and threw them into the tent. They shattered as they hit hard surfaces and a blue green gas started to fill the tent. Sairaith quickly sealed the tent shut before she breathed any of the fumes in. The girls jolted awake and started choking on screams as the gas worked on them, paralyzing their lungs and causing them to suffocate. It wasn't pretty and most would not consider it nice, but Sairaith considered it a gift. The girls were free now. Her only regret was that she didn't have supplies to craft a poison that would kill them all instantaneously.

She turned to look back at the surviving men, they were slowly starting to regain control of themselves. There were too many of them for her to take all of them out. She was strong, but it was the type of strength that a runner had, stamina, but not much physical power. She chuckled in satisfaction as several walked into the vicious webs of razor wire that she had crafted in between the tents from the wire that the men placed nightly around the camp to prevent wild animals from attacking.. The men tangled themselves up in the webs, inflicting vicious cuts on themselves. Without immediate medical attention the men would bleed out. One or two had all ready passed out from the shock of the wounds. Sairaith aimed her six shooter at two men who were starting to stumble her way. She fired twice and the two bullets pierced the mens' skulls directly between their eyes, killing them before they hit the ground. Then Sairaith ran to a saddled Arabian stallion. The horse tried to throw her, but Sairaith hung on. The dainty pleasure riding that Sairaith had learned wasn't really enough to prepare her to ride this horse, but Sairaith was a survivor and was determined to make the horse work for her.

When the horse was mostly under her control Sairaith turned to shoot two urns that she had place at the edge of the camp, right next to two tents. The urns were filled with gunpowder and they exploded as the bullets pieced them. She didn't wait to watch the camp go up in flames, instead she kicked the sides of the horse and sped off into the night.

That had been four days ago. The horse had dropped dead from dehydration and exhaustion in the middle of the third day. Sairaith had cut some of the horses meat off its body and cooked it that night. It wasn't a pleasant thing, eating the jerkied flesh of a horse, but Sairaith had no idea how much longer she was going to be stumbling through the desert. What little water she had was beginning to run low, if she didn't find a town by the middle of the day tomorrow she would run out, and a few days after that she would die.

Sairaith pulled the gun out of its holster again. “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” the disembodied male voice said, “You know its not going to work, stop giving yourself a false hope.”

“I could load the entire cylinder. That way I would definitely blow my own brains out,” Sairaith growled, silently cursing the desert heat for causing her to hallucinate.

The male voice laughed coldly, “Try it, the gun will jam. I can guarantee that.” Sairaith snapped her blue eyes up to glare at the empty air, for some reason she was half expecting some sort of Cheshire grin to be floating there.

Sairaith shook her head and pulled the cylinder out to spin it again. Then she placed the gun to her head and sighed when all she heard was the hollow click of an empty chamber. A large scorpion the size of a small dog scurried across her path, she pointed the six shooter at it and pulled the trigger. A loud bang resounded around her as the muzzle flashed and the bullet severed the scorpion’s head from its body. “Figures,” Sairaith muttered as she pulled a new bullet from one of the pouches on her belt and reloaded the gun before holstering it. She pulled the oil skin duster closer around her body to protect herself from the sun and pulled her rodeo hat further down on her head, then resumed her steady pace heading over another sand dune, praying a village was just beyond the next one.  

Character Name: Vesinn
Nation: The Unholy Nation of Saieth but his intelligence stems from who he's serving at the time.
Land: Mereseyr
Knowledge of the line: Aethrals are basically Incubi and Succubi. They not overly intelligent but can seduce damn near anyone. They can take masters and give that person energy. They are also rather slow due to the fact that they move at a lazy pace.

RP Sample:

The room was dark and pleasantly cool. One wall was almost competently open due to a large open window and balcony. A soft breeze rolled through the area making the smoke from a burning incense dance in an almost hypnotic way. Soft rustling could be heard on the large bed as the figure inside it slid against the silken sheets. A long slightly muscular body lay entwined in the amethyst colored fabric. What moonlight broke into the room caressed the pale skin almost lovingly. Hair as dark as a moonless sky splashed across the multitudes of pillows. For most it was an intoxicating sight, for Vesinn it was normal.

A soft sigh escaped slightly pouty lips as ruby colored eyes fluttered open. There would be no sleep tonight. He should have known better then to bother and try. It had been two years since he had come back to the desert. Vesinn wasn't certain if he ever would have returned if his last master hadn't died. It wasn't his fault but everyone blamed him. The Aethral ran for his life that night. He shifted placing his feet on the plush rug that lay next to his bed. Standing, Vesinn let the sheet fall away and stretched lightly. Moving to a lounge he picked up a silk robe and slid it on over his naked form. He smiled lightly at the thought of the guard who had scolded him for standing outside at night in absolutely nothing.

Moving out towards the balcony, Vesinn stopped just in the doorway. Leaning his head on the cool stone he looked up at the sky. His last master had loved to sit outside and watch the stars. He was teaching the dark haired boy about the different constellations and the stories behind them. A soft sad smile crossed his face at the memory. It was the first time that Vesinn had actually been in love. Tornac, his master, had a gentleness about him that made Vesinn feel safe. He was willing to teach the Aethral about everything and often leapt at the chance to do so. "I hope you rest well, beloved. I look forward to the day when I see you again." Vesinn whispered softly to himself. Closing his eyes he remained there, silent and still, till the dawn's rays adored his face.

((I hope this is was right.))

Character Name: Nazneen Kyndari
Nation: Sol Solis, since they seem fairly rich despite the ordeals of the time.
Land: None or rather she can't remember.
Knowledge of the line: Part of a nomadic people, Rune Writers use their magic through runes and clever tricks.

RP Sample:

The first lesson of stealing was that feeling, not time was a good indicator for events. Really, it was feeling, not seconds or minutes, that let a person know when it was time. She had known in the patched up quilt bed that barely blocked the splinters, let only the chilly night air that it had been time. She had known over the chaotic sounds of the night beasty game of survival that it was time. So it was no surprise to her that as she stepped out the bed chamber that feeling would alert her, rather the slowing down of time itself. She knew it was time to go.

As quick as the dogs started to bark, she was off. Runes on the sole of her boots a glow as she sprinted down the corridor. Pressing a hand hip, she jumped as the blade of a night guard sliced the air where her hips had once been. Landing, she spun and drove the dagger in to the gape all these silly armor wear fools had them. Then she was off again. Leaving the wounded the man for the dogs to bark over. For her exit was in sight...in till it wasn't.

She had only seconds think and thankful it seem to draw out. The blade left the hip sheath, just as runes on the sole of feet went a blaze again. She cleared the guard's head and as she placed both her rune cover gloves on his shoulders and felt the energy course down her arm through the runes and charge the metal suit till the man inside was bake like potato.

She learned that slowed seconds were just as nice as feeling alerts. Without breaking movement, she ran for the open window, climbed on to the ledge and felt the same energy flowing down into her legs, through the runes of her soles and then she was soaring. The lift taking her over the beaten ground and into the woods.

Where Nazneen learned her second lesson of theft. Trees do not make for soft land.

Character Name: Kaleh Zyara
Nation: Sol Solis
Land: Aqualiis
Knowledge of the line: Alchemists are the crafters, the inventors, the mad scientists of Saegareth. Extremely intelligent these scatter-brained scholars are always busy in their labs, working and creating things such as weapons, potions, poisons. Their favorite things to make are explosives, the more unique, the better. They make all types of explosives and tend to resort to them when threatened. They are not combat experts but are capable of it.

RP Sample:

The assassin moved silently through the house of his target, quickly making his way to the inner sanctum. His target, Kaleh Zyara, was a scholar of Aqualiis and a servant of the Sol Solis Nation. He had been charged by his master in Caehoul of the Unholy Nation of Saieth to kill this man. Why, he did not know, nor did he care; he only had to kill him. He entered the inner sanctum and quickly hide in the shadows to observe his target.

Kaleh sat at a desk muttering as he read from a tome and as he tinkered with a set of vials. From his hiding spot the assassin could hear the man's mutterings: "No no no! Clearly Eloshi of Sulyll is a talentless moron, how could he claim that the yield would be a radius of 40ft?! Ridiculous! My calculations and tests have clearly demonstrated a much smaller yield. Clearly he isn't using the right ingredients. *sigh* The Art suffers when it is pushed forward by stingy men like Eloshi." The assassin grinned, having realized why he was to kill this man: Kaleh must be an Alchemist, one of the bloodlines of creation and full of bookworms with a penchant for explosives. His master must have sent him to kill this alchemist to hinder the Holy Nation's attempts of arming themselves to fight his nation. The assassin moved forward, confident that this man would not hear him approach. As he stealthily moved forward Kaleh stopped, the assassin froze as he warily hoped that he hadn't somehow betrayed his presence.

Kaleh murmured, "I do believe I ran out of that..." as he turned around to see the assassin. Upon seeing the assassin, Kaleh's reaction was most curious, to the assassin at least. He was used to fear, or perhaps indignation, not... "Excellent, now I don't need to go to the market. How kind of you to drop by." With a snarl the assassin leapt forward, his dagger glinting an odd green in the light. Kaleh merely jumped to the side before grabbing a blue vial and tossing it at the assassin.

The assassin tumbled past the thrown vial to see it shatter harmlessly against the wall behind him. He grinned, it seemed the alchemist would not use explosives in his own home, he could still kill this man and fulfill his contract. He moved forward confident of being able to resist any poison this Kaleh threw at him. He like many assassins trained himself to resist just about any poison, this Kaleh would meet his end tonight.

Kaleh meanwhile had merely grabbed another vial, this time green, and thrown it at the assassin. The assassin just rushed forward as the vial slammed into him. This time however, the vial exploded sending the assassin flying back into the wall and onto the blue liquid of the first vial. The assassin tried to move forward but found himself stuck. The first vial had been an adhesive substance, the second some form of small localized force explosive, as strange as that sounded.

Kaleh grinned at the assassin, "Perfect!" he exclaimed gleefully. "You're unharmed and you seem to be in excellent physical state." Kaleh quietly drew a dagger from within his robes as he walked towards his helpless captive. Wielding his dagger precisely Kaleh cut one of the neck veins as he grabbed another vial to catch the blood that began to fall. As the assassin squirmed Kaleh chided him gently, "Now now, stop struggling. The more you struggle the quicker you will bleed out and I need blood drawn from someone still alive. So please for the sake of Alchemy, hold still."

As soon as the vial was filled, Kaleh quickly stuck a top, set it aside and grabbed another. The assassin stared in horror as he saw his own blood fill the vials that Kaleh produced. He weakly managed to croak out, "Please, spare me. I'll trade for my life with information." Kaleh just tutted and turned around placing the vials on one of the shelves. With a backward glance as he grabbed a box from another shell, Kaleh added "I do believe that you know nothing I'm interested in. Besides, such a healthy specimen would provide an invaluable set of organs with which to conduct my next experiments."

The last thing the assassin saw before he blacked out was Kaleh calmly approaching him with the box firmly grasped in his hands.

Approved and Approved. heart heart

Approved heart heart I think I'm in love with your queen, Meta. >:3