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"Alright, I'm going to post the character descriptions for the people in my story. Here goes nothing. In chronological order."

Qurez

Qurez is Dusk's younger brother by strange circumstance, and is what could be called the protagonist. Though he's not quite sure where he's going or what he's doing, he does have a definite sense of what needs to be done. Sometimes, he is caught with his head in the clouds, and one of his only flaws is that he never gives up on people. Here is a physical description of him straight out of the story.

He didn't appear to be a day over 16, and looked to have the confidence to match. The clumps of hair on his head bounced softly as he rode his horse, the locks of blue swaying with the motion. He wore a black traveler's shirt, covered with pockets. Many of them were full of miscellaneous items. His baggy, black pants ruffled in the wind as he rode at a leisurely jaunt, leaning back in the saddle slightly. The boy held the reins loosely in his hands. He wore a lazy smile on his face, soaking in the last of the quickly fading sunlight.

Here is another description, taken later in the book. This was meant more to capture his inner essence, but I went far too detailed into it and omitted many parts. Here it is...

Crim studied Qurez's face, assimilating every detail into his memory. The short dark-blue hair was candidly clumped together, hanging over his forehead in a curved notion. His thin eyebrows arched upwards sharply, then slowly descending into his temples. His pudgy cheeks hinted at the lingering boyhood that remained in his wiring, the adolescence that would fester in his veins upon becoming a man, and not come out again until old age set in. A petite nosed jutted from the center, smoothly cascading into his lips. The thin pink halves were pressed together above his sharp chin, which rested in the palm of his right hand. But perhaps the most fascinating features of all were his eyes. Filled with mystery and determination, not a trace of doubt.

But most of all, Crimson saw hope in the Qurez's eyes, and was frozen by admiration.

Yep, that's about it. If you want to know more, feel free to read the story.

Belgar

Every story has to have one of these. The giant who seems to have his brains under his biceps. Despite his short temper and small intelligence, he is extremely loyal and is always looking to exercise his strength in a way that will benefit his master. To give you a better idea of his looks, I thought I'd throw this out there...

The length of the doubled-edged weapon and Belgars height seemed to be the same, approximately seven feet. His enormous muscles could be seen all over his body; Belgar's only clothing being the loincloth around his waist. The sweat on his bare head glistened in the sunlight, with blood from Dusk's troops splattered wantonly on his body.

I didn't go into much description on that and I don't know why. I'm working on a chapter right now that exclusively features Belgar, but I don't want to pull anything from it until I'm done revising and such. In the meantime, I will post these, two examples of Belgar fighting...and losing.

Belgar swung his axe at Dusk horizontally, who deftly rolled under it, trying to close the distance between the two of them by sneaking closer. Belgar pulled the axe towards his body, and knocked Dusk in the chin with its base, sending him flying backwards. Dusk rose, rubbing his face, which felt like it had been shattered to a thousand pieces. Belgar then brought his axe down at Dusk, who did a nimble back flip, dodging the blade. The axe stuck into the ground as Dusk landed, and he seized this chance. He jumped forward, bringing with him the momentum of his back flip. He landed on the pole of Belgar's mighty axe, running up the shaft of the weapon. Belgar looked at him unmoving, slightly stupefied. Dusk reached Belgar's body and delivered unto him a series of punches to his chest. Dusk then performed another aerial flip, this time connecting his foot with Belgar's jaw as he did so. Dusk spun like a corkscrew in the air and thrust his other heel forward, smashing it into Belgar's chest as the giant flew backwards onto the ground, the force of the blow pulling his axe from the earth as well.

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The force of the combined impact knocked both fighters from their mount, causing them to fly off backwards. Their troops met each other and entered the fray, stabbing, slashing, and killing their respective enemy. Belgar stood, bringing his axe to bear in front of him. James struggled up under the weight of his armor, pulling his sword as high as he could manage. Belgar shot him a sneer.

"What's wrong warrior? Is that sword a little too big for you? Here, let me cut it down to size," Belgar sneered sadistically, bringing his axe around as he charged James.

Just then, the castle's high gates opened and Orion's famed Wyvern Knights streamed out, ready to annihilate the enemy army. Dusk's archers laid in ambush, waiting for Crimson's signal to strike. The red haired sniper watched the battle, intently focusing on his cousin.

Kicked in the stomach by Belgar, James rolled back, his armor clanging loudly. Belgar brought down his axe to slice through James, but the blow ricocheted away as the latter threw his sword into the air, knocking the axe back. Belgar regained his grip and took advantage, swinging at James horizontally, but James leapt into the air, dodging the axe. He grabbed his b*****d sword out of the sky and brought it down onto the pole of the axe, breaking it in half. Giant splinters flew everywhere, sticking into Belgar's body while they harmlessly bounced off of James' armor.

A wyvern suddenly appeared above James, ready to bite into him with its razor sharp teeth. Three arrows flew from the right and pierced through the fiend's long neck, killing it. Crim reached for a fourth arrow from his quiver and fired, striking the wyvern's rider in the chest, killing him. The huge flying behemoth fell from the sky and landed on top of Belgar, crushing him.

Sorry that last one was so long. I had to include the entirety of Belgar's battle against James. Speaking of whom...

Crimson

By far one of the most dynamic characters in the story, Crimson suffers with emotional conflict, in stark contrast to his cousin James. He lets his instinct and intuition guide him, hoping that he is acting in the name of justice. While he can be considered one of the most treacherous characters, he always stays true to his heart. Here is Crim's description and entrance to the story.

The other man stood about as high as the taller one's shoulder, but just as battle worn. On his left hip hung a horizontal quiver, nearly depleted of arrows. Over his shoulder he had a steel bow, arcing along his spine. Most of the bow lay concealed from view by his long silky hair, identical to the red of blood. He had a crooked nose that looked as though it had been broken various times. Light leather armor protected his body, with a metal bracer on his wrist.

Also, it is well said to point out that he has a long horizontal scar that streches around his neck. It was because of this injury that he lost his voice. But since Crim really is an emotional character as well as an adept fighter, here is a snippet of both.

But most of all, Crimson saw hope in the Qurez's eyes, and was frozen by admiration. He had been ordered to kill this boy, but he could not bring himself to do it. Why would Dusk want his brother, let alone someone of such great stature, be killed? Crim shook his head, trying to rid it of such thoughts. One of the four elite guards who had journeyed with him had escorted him to the top, and now looked at him suspiciously, moving a hand to the hilt of his sword. He relaxed however, when Crimson reached for an arrow from the quiver he kept at his side. He raised his bow with his left hand, bringing the arrow over and setting it on the bowstring. Three shaky fingers brought the arrow back, stretching the string until it could not be pulled back any more. The guard looked firmly at Crimson with a smile; the faster he finished, the sooner they could go home. The arbalester stole another look at Qurez's determination, and yielded for a moment, the bowstring receding slightly. The escort looked at Crim for a moment, slightly puzzled.

Crim took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, regaining his focus. The escort relaxed, looking at the bright noonday sky, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. Crim took this opportunity and spun around, his hair trailing behind him in a red wave. He held the bow horizontally and fired at the guard, striking him in the neck with an arrow. He fell to the ground as blood spewed from the wound, writhing his limbs in agony. With one last look at Qurez, who appeared to not notice anything, Crimson glided down the stairs from the rooftop, pulling another arrow from his quiver and setting it on the bow. The other three guards were completely unaware that anything could be wrong, until their superior burst into the room.

With a twang of the bowstring, one of the guards fell to the floor like a bag of cement. Crim had readied another arrow before he had hit the ground and fired again, this time at the guard farthest from himself. This arrow cut into his adversary's stomach, forcing him to keel over in pain and surprise. The third guard had gained his bearings by now, and charged Crim with his sword drawn. Knowing he had no time to fit his bow again, Crim drew a dagger from his belt and hurled it at the enraged guard. The blade sunk into the hand he was holding the sword with, embedding itself into the hilt of the weapon. He staggered only for a moment and continued his mad dash. Crim drew and arrow from it's quiver, and as soon as the man was close enough, leapt forward, narrowly missing the blade of the sword, and drove the bolt into his eye socket. He could feel the arrow sink into the brain and released it. He was now caught up in a blood rage and drew one more arrow, turning his bow to the man he had previously shot in the stomach. He released this arrow and drew two more in rapid succession, firing all three into the torso of the man, until his demise was assured.

Crim adjusted his quiver and started towards the door. The faster he got out of town the better. He was a traitor now, and he knew that Dusk would give him no quarter were he to be captured. He began to think of James but quickly dispelled this from his mind. Now was not the time to deal with fickle emotions.

Sorry for the length of that last excerpt, but I feel it is important to really grasp Crimson for everything he is. He will play a critical role later in the story, pivoting the entire flow again.

Andrew

Andrew, how to explain Andrew in a nutshell...Basically, he's a philosopher and a scholar all rolled into one. And to top it off, he's even a master of the dark arts of sorcery. When he meets up with Maximilian, he acts almost as an adviser to him, telling him what to and what not to do, keeping his rash behavior under control. But first, Andrew's introduction inside of, as Kay calls it, an old smelly bookstore otherwise known as the Hall of Knowledge.

Just then, a glyph in the center of the marble began to glow, giving off black aura. Small colorless particles began to fly upwards, followed by purple lightning that spread from spec to spec. Qurez and Kay turned around after hearing the cracking of electricity and saw the threatening spectacle. Qurez drew his sword and Kay picked up a large book from a nearby shelf, ready to defend themselves from whatever might happen.

A hole appeared in the floor, slowly expanding to a three-foot diameter. A figure in a black robe floated upwards, soft winds spiraling around his body. He hovered level with the ground as it closed up under his feet. The hems of his robe were slashed in a manner that made the cuts look almost deliberate. The arms rose to lift the hood that covered the visage of the figure; Qurez gripped his sword tightly in suspense.

Long purple bangs were first uncovered, a pair of them slanting down each end of the face. Next exposed the neck and chin. A small purple patch of hair below his lip gave his face color, along with sideburns that stretched all the way down his face, to the base of his cheeks. He threw his neck back, his bangs flying backwards over his head, followed by the hood. His eyes were closed, and on his right eye rested a single eyeglass, a string flowing from it to his collar. The rest of his long purple hair fell down, stopping just short of his thighs. A gold chain hung down from his robe, one end of the chain attached to the fabric, the other end sinking into a pocket. He opened his eyes, revealing his glossy yellow pupils.

"Welcome," he mused in a chillingly surreal voice. "Welcome to the Hall of Knowledge. Can I help you?" he asked the pair, looking at them curiously.

There is, of course, always an adverse effect to every power, and while Andrew's 'black' magic is powerful, it has a downside. It sucks the life out of him every time he uses it, which affects his physical appearance and his magical stamina. Here, I will have Max explain it as he said it to Qurez.

"Well, long story short, he was one of my supporters when I was ousted from Attica. Most of them were caught and also exiled, but he hid in the Hall of Knowledge. He had always been a scholar, and we have communicated through secret letters over the past few years. While living in the Hall, he learned the arts of meditation, going without food for weeks at a time. Eventually, he discovered a plane of darkness within himself, that's where he took you," Max added, shivering a little. "It's kinda creepy, I know. But, to each his own. He found that using the knowledge he had obtained, and the mental training he had endured, he could easily harvest the darkness that dwelled within his heart, and that of others. He had a very tragic childhood; he refuses even to tell me the details. But by recalling visions from the past, he is able to strengthen the bond it has within him. He is able to restrain the darkness extremely well but..." He stopped for a moment.

"Hmm? What is it? Tell me," Qurez pressured him, wanting to know.

Maximilian sighed. "I did some research on the power of darkness myself, intrigued on what I may find, but I made a chilling discovery. Eventually, the amount of energy it produces will consume him, even against his will. He will collapse from the inside, becoming a heartless zombie. I do not tell him this though, because I know if he found out, the knowledge of his own eventual demise would bring it about. Ironic, and sad."

Andrew will later have a dominant role in the story, influencing Max's decisions. His true motives are unknown, and he will take them to the grave with him.

Jack

Jack. I love him, and you'd be crazy not to. He's got a cool as ice demeanor, with an attitude than would shun the devil. Nothing seems to phase him, not even if he's getting attacked. He remains loyal only to himself and Shrita, his master and lover. Here is Jack's entrance.

He trotted his horse between the two, it's hooves splashing in the blood and trailing it into the stone gate where the portcullis was up, left open by the former guards. His steed was of the purest black, not a hair of another hue to be found on its body, with the exception of the red stains now painted on its feet. The man's clothing differed not from his horse in the eloquence of black.

He wore no armor, not even a weapon, but rather, quite tasteful attire. Close-toed obsidian leather boots adorned his feet, strapped around his upper ankles with silver buckles. He held the reins of the horse loosely in his gloved hands. A white shirt, whose turquoise buttons ran up the middle of the chest, was concealed by a shimmering midnight tuxedo, dusty and wrinkled from the ride. Hair the same tint of his garments garlanded his head, draping around his ears and growing longer in the back, tied into a ponytail. His sable eyebrows were thin but sharply slanted inwards, colliding with the dark crescents that had formed under his eyes, like a four-legged black starfish imbued onto his face.

I really want to insert the scene with Jack and Shrita here, but that is more suited for Shrita's section, so I will wait until then. I will, however, add a small piece here of a conversation between Jack and Belgar, who aren't exactly the best of friends.

He felt his shirt tighten suddenly, and could smell Belgar before he opened his eyes to look at him. He blinked them open innocently, staring up at the bald giant who currently had a meaty hand clenched on the front of his elegant tuxedo. Belgar lifted him into the air, and the man made to resistance, simply looking at Belgar and laughing a little.

"What are you laughing at Jack?" Belgar roared loudly, spittle flying from his mouth and spattering on Jacks clothing. "How dare you defile Dusks throne with your dirty a**. You sicken me you pretty boy, you're nothing but Shrita's little lap dog!"

"Heh...Those are some big words coming from you Belgar," Jack mused pleasantly. "Looks like Orion wasn't strong enough, so you decided to be Dusks b***h instead. Not that I can blame you, Orion did have a bit of a thick head. Like master, like disciple."

Belgar reared his arm back and threw Jack to his left towards the stone wall, which Jack collided with accompanied by a few quiet cracks. Jack fell into a heap on the ground but was up in a flash. He did not look at Belgar angrily; in fact, he just continued to wear his comical grin. He twisted his neck left and right, relieving the bones of stress as they popped.

"And by the way," he added, straightening his clothing. "I prefer to be called the Sorceress' Knight, not her lap dog." He smoothed out the lower portion of his tuxedo and looked back at Belgar, whose attempts to look infuriated only made him laugh more. "Let's face it, Lady Shrita had the brains of the empire, not to mention me. Lord Lyncyn had the most land and troops, along with Dusks power. But Orion...Well, he had nothing. But even worse, he had you."

Yep, so that's it for Jack. He'll come back, don't worry. Oh, and as to whether or not he lives or dies in the end...I'm not even sure myself. But I can guarentee you, whatever happens, he'll go out with a bang!