Beyond Light's Reach (Fantasy, OOC, OPEN)

[Tomia]

Hello everyone, the discord is ready! If you have an accepted app you're welcome to join. I do want to day though that I have enjoyed the chatter on the OOC so I will do my best to keep OOC chatter alive as well as keep important information on the OOC so that no one is required to join the discord. Without further ado:
https://discord.gg/DcNMYbs

[Utceforp]

Happy 4th of July! Hope any of you that celebrate are doing it in spectacular fashion tonight.

I'm having a fun Three-days-after-Canada-day Day.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Name: Archeno (“ch” like in “chip”), son of Kakio of Rura
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance (pics if possible): look, a picture!
Mage?: Nope

Bio :
Archeno was born in Rura, a medium-sized walled town on the river Belichuna in Tashar. Like all boys, he was entranced by stories of heroes and monsters, wars and battles. But unlike most young men, he didn't grow out of it. He became more interested in stories and their telling, and when he was old enough, decided to try his hand at story-telling, rather than entering the family tailoring business.

The next few years weren't easy for him: storytelling had been a profession since time immemorial, and unlike the crafts, there were no apprenticeships, just learning by watching and doing. Frankly, Archeno got pretty close to starving a few times before he learned the art well enough to start scraping by.

Eventually, he realized no amount of showmanship could replace originality. Sure, good stories well told could always draw some sort of audience, but the real money is in new episodes, new details, new stories. And so he graduated to journeyman storyteller, mixing and matching bits of stories, learning what he could and always moving on to new towns, and when he was good enough, new cities.

Archeno decided the best way of coming up with new stories was to visit the places where legends were made. Often, the locals had different versions of the “classic” stories, and sometimes he learned that “legend” was just meant half-forgotten history... with the same sort of mixing and matching he'd been doing added to make it sound better.

But the places! Many of them were real, just difficult to visit. But the sights, the sounds! Those things made stories lively, larger than life. So he started to trek, and that's when his career really took off.

Even to this day, there are still weathered skeletons in Teved, the desert of blue flames, left from the Battle of Thared-Sev. The flames, he learned, are visible only at night, and give off hardly any heat, but nonetheless, few audiences knew that, and always listened more intently after Archeno said, “Yes, but it's true! It stuck my hand into them, and it came out without a mark!” And more importantly, they threw more coins for having been told that.

Seeing the griffons of Copper Grove in the southern slopes of the Anthas Range, and getting a good look a one of their weird brassy nests high in the treetops, made the ancient Tale of Remd even better, because he could make the audiences feel as though they'd been carried away to that nest... and no other storyteller had even the foggiest idea what the nests where made of. (The classic version said bones and branches)

Even city-folk appreciated Archeno's vivid depiction of the great city of Shelkinjé, with its four elegant arched bridges spanning the Black River, two above and two below where it joins the Stream of Peridot, even though couldn't talk his way into the glassblower's district to learn how golden glass is made. But he did talk to one of Harna's students at the Yupari Institute to learn about how she and her army of ants defeated the pack of nothics that preyed on travelers to the city not fifteen years earlier.

In time, Archeno found his way to Algan Forest, the mother of legends. It seemed half of the best stories he knew concerned it, mentioned it, or warned people to avoid it. The earliest versions of Krall's Song describe Krall's visit in great detail, and Days Two and Three of the Twelve Days' Battle were fought in the Forest 162 years ago, and descendants of the losing side are rumored to still live there.

Now, after spending several months in and around the Forest, Archeno knows why. The powerful magic in the forest changes things and people, for better or worse. Some people go in average and come out heroes. Others return twisted, or dead. While it's impossible to tell from the epics, Archeno believes more came out twisted or dead than heroic, but those sorts of tales are told only to scare children. Archeno felt he came out ahead, with two gifts, and only one curse, though it was a serious one.

Regardless, having seen much of the world and learned some of its secrets, Archeno thinks he has what it takes to become a master storyteller. And now, he's told, the next war will begin at a temple on a hill. Archeno intends to know what tales come out of it.


Fighting Style (Warrior, Mage, Archer, etc): Tries to avoid it. If need be, he can fight with a knife, or if things are really tough, as a shapeshifter.

Abilities:

• Shapeshifter: Archeno can become a large, supernatural bull. As a bull, he's big, he's strong, and he's nearly untiring, being able to run for an hour before needing to stop. In bull form, he can fight like a bull, goring, charging, and trampling. While he has a little experience at it, he doesn't fight much better than an animal, but instead relies on strength, weight, and speed to do the work for him.
  
• Alchemy: He has a moderate ability to make potions, oils, and dusts from natural sources. He can't make the best alchemical stuff, as his gift simply isn't that great. He's also nearly untrained, having been granted the gift, but no knowledge of how to use it. He's learned two recipes: one makes a minor healing potion, and the other makes an oil to coat bladed or pointed weapons, giving them supernatural sharpness. He wouldn't mind learning other recipes, and is willing to pay or trade for them.
  
• Storyteller: Archeno is a professional storyteller, specializing in telling heroic tales. He knows all the “classic” stories of past and present, histories, legends, and myths, and is pretty good at improvising, making up good stories on the spot. His search for more material is what brought him to Haden Hill: if what looks like the first battle for the future of the world doesn't yield stories of valor and derring-do, nothing will.
  
• Well-traveled: Given any spot on the map, the odds are that Archeno has been there, and done that. He knows a lot of lore about people, places, things, and events, and speaks several languages, though not all fluently.
  
• Knife fighting: He carries a big, curved knife, and knows a little about what to do with it. On a good day, he may be a match for an untrained punk, but that's about it.
  
• Reputation: In any crowd, there's always somebody how knows Archeno is a storyteller. They may not know anything else about him, or even think well of him, but they've heard his name.

Limitations (Reasons why your char can’t singlehandedly conquer a kingdom):

• Slow on the draw: Archeno has the world's slowest reaction time, a side effect of spending too much time in Algan Forest. In any group, he's always the last to speak or act. His reflexes and coordination are fine, so this doesn't prevent him from fighting, but he'll never beat anybody to the punch.

Equipment:

• Fancy clothing: see picture. Some people might say he's a dandy, but he believes in dressing well.
  
• A big curved knife: it has a thrusting point, but is mostly a slicing weapon.
  
• Brigandine armor: small metal disks sandwiched between two layers of leather. Relatively light, and the soft leather parts breathe, so it's cooler than metal armor. Also less threatening.
  
• A few of each potion he can make
  
• A portable alchemy lab: it fits in a briefcase-sized box. It's not the best lab, but for what Archeno can make, it'll do.
  
• The Tiny Cabin: this magical model cabin is one of Archeno's prize possessions. Normally just a few inches on a side, with a few magic words, it'll turn into a 12'x12' log cabin. The door has a small window, and and there's a small fireplace in the opposite wall. It's otherwise empty, and anything left inside when it's shrunk back down will end up on the ground near it.
  
• The Portable Feast: when a set of magical place settings was being auctioned off, the only four people who could afford to bid on it decided to buy the set jointly and then divide it up. Archeno
  drew the short straw, so he got the odds and ends. He has:
  
  • Most of a breakfast set: a plate that will produce eggs (chicken, duck, goose, or quail) to order, a small bowl that can fill itself with porridge (oatmeal, farina, grits, kasha, etc), and a mug that can summon water, milk, coffee, tea, or cocoa.
  • A small dessert dish: it can produce a slice of cake, a couple of pastries, or a bunch of cookies.
  • A spice rack containing an endless salt shaker and ever-full bottles of common herbs and spices

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: To be the world's greatest storyteller, a legend among legend-spinners. And, y'know, there are plenty of legends about longevity potions, and there's nothing wrong with achieving immortality not through his art, but through not dying.
Favorite Factions: Whoever is the current underdog.
Least Favorite Factions: Whoever seems to be on top.
Favorite Memory: The first time people threw coins when he told a story.
Goals: Collect good stories. Also, round up more alchemical ingredients, and maybe learn some more recipes if he has a chance.
Greatest Fear:
Religion: Archeno isn't the most devout worshipper. Sure, he'll start a night's storytelling with the traditional invocation of Oulscan, the god of minstrels, messengers, and travellers, and if he brings in a good haul, he'll toss his priests a few silver pennies. But by and large, he's been from one end of this continent to the other, and has seen a lot of strange stuff, but he's seen nothing to make him believe there's a bunch of all-powerful gods controlling everything.

[Tomia]

Archeno

Only issue I see with this app is, I think I'd prefer if you got rid of his knife fighting ability, him not being too good at fighting out of bull form would be a solid weakness to add too. Only question I have is what country is he from. Couldnt really get a grasp on what country a lot of places mentioned were.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Ah yes, FIXME Forest. Brocéliande's less interesting little brother

[Tomia]

Ah yes, FIXME Forest. Brocéliande's less interesting little brother

LOL

[Northwest Slobovia]

Archeno

Only issue I see with this app is, I think I'd prefer if you got rid of his knife fighting ability, him not being too good at fighting out of bull form would be a solid weakness to add too. Only question I have is what country is he from. Couldnt really get a grasp on what country a lot of places mentioned were.

Double whoops!

i've toned the knife fighting down to what I intended, though not the way it came out: he's an amateur at it.

And now he's from Tashar. I knew I saw a reference to nationality, but lost it.

Ah yes, FIXME Forest. Brocéliande's less interesting little brother

Only the worthy may know it's True Name. *nods*

[Tomia]

App is accepted Slo, nice work, feel free to join the discord

[Aidannadia]

-WIP-

Name: Vega Thal'Gur
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Beastfolk (Lion)
Appearance: https://imgur.com/a/ij8Lm1y
Mage?: No
Bio: Vega is the chosen son of the former Chieftain of his tribe, struck down by the then young upstart and current Chieftain. Vega grew up close friends with his companion Badar, largely the only person who would stand him. He has become a renowned hunter and duelist, with his eye on challenging the man who killed his father for the title of chieftain since he was a child. Vega is a brash, abrasive personality. He is known to go into a feral rage during exciting battles, overcoming any and all obstacles. He is confident and full of himself.

Vega gained regional fame for wrestling a bear to the ground with his bare hands, and has become a renowned soldier. He has been hailed as a ferocious and merciless warrior, leading many expeditions into the wilds to raid nearby settlements. He is considered a hero to his tribe.

After first Arc bio:
Vega, during his challenge to the chieftain, was poisoned by the chieftain's first wife. Because of this action, he seemingly dies during the battle, only to be saved by Badar's intervention. Vega is nursed back to strength by his friend, and rechallenges for the title of chieftain at full strength. After doing so, he makes sweeping changes to the way the village is run and seeks to expand his reach across the beastfolk territory.
Fighting Style: Warror
Abilities:

• [Enhanced Senses]: (Enhanced hearing. Lowlight vision. Limited scent based tracking.)
• [Strength]: (Vega is incredibly strong, even for among the lionfolk. He has incredibly reserves of energy and stamina.)
• [Duelist]: (Vega is an expert in melee combat, proficient in a variety of weaponry. His specialty is his blade gauntlets that allow him to get up close and personal)

Limitations :

• (Limited ranged capability. Vega's aim is just off. At most he can throw javelins and spears, but even that is risky.)
• (No magic affinity. Vega is complete mundane)

Equipment:

• ["Claws"- Armored Fist with bladed pieces]

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest:To become leader of his clan and to unite the beastfolk into a kingdom.
Goals: Become king of the Beastfolk
Greatest Fear:
Religion:Thalai

Name: Badar Thal'Wilde
Age: 22
Gender:
Race: Beastfolk (lion)
Appearance (pics if possible): https://imgur.com/a/ij8Lm1y
Mage?: Yes
Bio : Badar grew up a clanless lion cub, taken in by his village at a young age after a tragedy befell his own. Ever since then, he has grown together and apart from the rest of his village, just on the fringes of acceptable society with only a moderate level of acceptance by the rest. Badar has become the best marksman in his village, relying on his stealth and sharpshooting to hunt for his people, along with his good friend whom he shares a rivalry with, Vega. Badar is supportive of Vega's challenge for chieftain. Badar is the more reserved friend, often keeping to himself and acting as a one man cheering squad for Vega. He is known for being able to calm Vega from his rages in the heat of a battle.

Badar has accompanied Vega on many of his raids to nearby settlements, though he has recently been experiencing some changes. The Wilds speak to him in a way that he can understand, and he has always had somewhat of a green thumb. He can instantly tell if a plant is poisonous or not, and has begun cataloging them in a notebook for progeny. While his tribe is thankful for his skills, they are weary of his abilities, which only further isolates him from the rest of the tribe.

After first arc bio
Badar sees his friend Vega is poisoned during his challenge to the chieftain, and carries him to safety. After weeks in the wilderness, he helps his friend to rechallenge the chieftain for the title, but is still cast out for defying the rules of engagement of the beastfolk clan. During the course of his healing and helping his friend, he discovers his magical abilities and sets out to find more information about how to harness this new power and truly discover who he is in a life after his clan forsakes him.
Fighting Style: Archer >>> Mage late game
Abilities:

• [Enhanced Senses]: (Expert hearing and lowlight vision. Limited tracking by scent.)
• [Expert Marksman]: (Badar is especially proficient with a bow, drawing much confusion from his more melee centered tribe.)
• [Herbology]: (Badar knows just about every plant and its properties. Some are used for healing or harm. He is known to sometimes eat berries.)

Limitations :

• (Badar is lacking in physical strength, especially for a Thalari)
• (Badar has no formal magicka training given his upbringing and therefore must find his own path)

Equipment:

• [Bow and Arrows]
• [Rope]
• [Skinning knife]
• [Herbalist Pouch]

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: To find himself
Goals: To understand the mystical side of the world
To protect the Wilds
Religion:Thalai

[Galnius]

Only issue I see with this app is, I think I'd prefer if you got rid of his knife fighting ability, him not being too good at fighting out of bull form would be a solid weakness to add too. Only question I have is what country is he from. Couldnt really get a grasp on what country a lot of places mentioned were.

Double whoops!

i've toned the knife fighting down to what I intended, though not the way it came out: he's an amateur at it.

And now he's from Tashar. I knew I saw a reference to nationality, but lost it.

Ah yes, FIXME Forest. Brocéliande's less interesting little brother

Only the worthy may know it's True Name. *nods*

I know someone who can teach him. Maybe earn a story or too about her.

[Northwest Slobovia]

At Tomia's suggestion, I've collected the bits of lore I mentioned in Archerno's bio. Feel free to use them or expand on them. The world seems a bit empty right now. The areas and things associated with them are now sorted by which nation I think they should be in.

In Antora
Copper Grove
Anthas Range
Tale of Remd

In Dascus
Black River
Stream of Peridot
Shelkinjé – a very large city at the junction of the Black River and the Stream of Peridot

In Shelkinjé

• Yupari Institute – a major school for learning magic, like a large state university. While it teaches a broad range of magical arts, its best departments are air magic, conjuration, enchantment, fire magic, illusion, and plant magic.
  
• Glen Arras Academy of Earth and Fire – a smaller magic school, more like a research institute. It provides only intermediate and advanced training, being mostly focused on advancing magical knowledge and practice. As its name indicates, it focuses on just two areas, fire magic and earth magic, and their intersection, runesmithing. The fire school is known for teaching fire reading, a specialized form of pyromancy.
  
  For practical runesmithing reasons, the Academy also provides training in the mundane arts of mining, smelting, and metal smithing, as well as how earth and fire magic can be applied to them.

In Hurelan
Algan Forest
Twelve Days' Battle
Krall's Song

In Sarthares
Teved, the desert of blue flames
Battle of Thared-Sev

In Tashar
River Belichuna
Rura - a medium-sized walled town on the river Belichuna

[Zarkenis Ultima]

In Sarthares
Teved, the desert of blue flames
Battle of Thared-Sev

Since Sarthares borders Antora, which houses the Gules Desert, perhaps Teved could simply be a subsection of the desert that crosses into Sartharian borders, where the eponymous blue flames appear?

[Northwest Slobovia]

In Sarthares
Teved, the desert of blue flames
Battle of Thared-Sev

Since Sarthares borders Antora, which houses the Gules Desert, perhaps Teved could simply be a subsection of the desert that crosses into Sartharian borders, where the eponymous blue flames appear?

Sure. I was thinking something similar.

[Tomia]

Going to be advancing the plot sometime tonight EST, so if people need to wrap up interactions they should do so and let me know if I need to wait

[Tomia]

-WIP-

Name: Vega Thal'Gur
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Beastfolk (Lion)
Appearance: https://imgur.com/a/ij8Lm1y
Mage?: No
Bio: Vega is the chosen son of the former Chieftain of his tribe, struck down by the then young upstart and current Chieftain. Vega grew up close friends with his companion Badar, largely the only person who would stand him. He has become a renowned hunter and duelist, with his eye on challenging the man who killed his father for the title of chieftain since he was a child. Vega is a brash, abrasive personality. He is known to go into a feral rage during exciting battles, overcoming any and all obstacles. He is confident and full of himself.

Vega gained regional fame for wrestling a bear to the ground with his bare hands, and has become a renowned soldier. He has been hailed as a ferocious and merciless warrior, leading many expeditions into the wilds to raid nearby settlements. He is considered a hero to his tribe.

After first Arc bio:
Vega, during his challenge to the chieftain, was poisoned by the chieftain's first wife. Because of this action, he seemingly dies during the battle, only to be saved by Badar's intervention. Vega is nursed back to strength by his friend, and rechallenges for the title of chieftain at full strength. After doing so, he makes sweeping changes to the way the village is run and seeks to expand his reach across the beastfolk territory.
Fighting Style: Warror
Abilities:

• [Enhanced Senses]: (Enhanced hearing. Lowlight vision. Limited scent based tracking.)
• [Strength]: (Vega is incredibly strong, even for among the lionfolk. He has incredibly reserves of energy and stamina.)
• [Duelist]: (Vega is an expert in melee combat, proficient in a variety of weaponry. His specialty is his blade gauntlets that allow him to get up close and personal)

Limitations :

• (Limited ranged capability. Vega's aim is just off. At most he can throw javelins and spears, but even that is risky.)
• (No magic affinity. Vega is complete mundane)

Equipment:

• ["Claws"- Armored Fist with bladed pieces]

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest:To become leader of his clan and to unite the beastfolk into a kingdom.
Goals: Become king of the Beastfolk
Greatest Fear:
Religion:Thalai

Name: Badar Thal'Wilde
Age: 22
Gender:
Race: Beastfolk (lion)
Appearance (pics if possible): https://imgur.com/a/ij8Lm1y
Mage?: Yes
Bio : Badar grew up a clanless lion cub, taken in by his village at a young age after a tragedy befell his own. Ever since then, he has grown together and apart from the rest of his village, just on the fringes of acceptable society with only a moderate level of acceptance by the rest. Badar has become the best marksman in his village, relying on his stealth and sharpshooting to hunt for his people, along with his good friend whom he shares a rivalry with, Vega. Badar is supportive of Vega's challenge for chieftain. Badar is the more reserved friend, often keeping to himself and acting as a one man cheering squad for Vega. He is known for being able to calm Vega from his rages in the heat of a battle.

Badar has accompanied Vega on many of his raids to nearby settlements, though he has recently been experiencing some changes. The Wilds speak to him in a way that he can understand, and he has always had somewhat of a green thumb. He can instantly tell if a plant is poisonous or not, and has begun cataloging them in a notebook for progeny. While his tribe is thankful for his skills, they are weary of his abilities, which only further isolates him from the rest of the tribe.

After first arc bio
Badar sees his friend Vega is poisoned during his challenge to the chieftain, and carries him to safety. After weeks in the wilderness, he helps his friend to rechallenge the chieftain for the title, but is still cast out for defying the rules of engagement of the beastfolk clan. During the course of his healing and helping his friend, he discovers his magical abilities and sets out to find more information about how to harness this new power and truly discover who he is in a life after his clan forsakes him.
Fighting Style: Archer >>> Mage late game
Abilities:

• [Enhanced Senses]: (Expert hearing and lowlight vision. Limited tracking by scent.)
• [Expert Marksman]: (Badar is especially proficient with a bow, drawing much confusion from his more melee centered tribe.)
• [Herbology]: (Badar knows just about every plant and its properties. Some are used for healing or harm. He is known to sometimes eat berries.)

Limitations :

• (Badar is lacking in physical strength, especially for a Thalari)
• (Badar has no formal magicka training given his upbringing and therefore must find his own path)

Equipment:

• [Bow and Arrows]
• [Rope]
• [Skinning knife]
• [Herbalist Pouch]

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: To find himself
Goals: To understand the mystical side of the world
To protect the Wilds
Religion:Thalai

Both accepted

[Lazarian]

Name: Clive Paxton
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance (pics if possible):

Clive is 5'9 and 180 pounds, with a broad chest and meaty arms.
Mage?: No, but Purifier.
Bio: Born in the thriving port city of Brigham in Dascus, Clive was the son of an unremarkable fisherman and his wife. They were poor, but not poor enough to live on the streets. The rent was paid, there was enough food to get by on, and their hearth was warm more often than not. In his childhood, he helped his father out at sea, throwing nets and fetching them up again. The Paxton family lived in a neighboring district to some of the richer neighborhoods of Brigham. These residences were those of mages and enchanters, and the wealth of the city was clearly unevenly distributed to them. Oftentimes, Clive felt jealous of the wealth that was in sight, but out of reach. As far as he could tell, the only difference between them and himself was the fact that they could use magic...and he couldn't. There was no reason. They weren't kinder, or smarter, or harder working - they were just lucky. Fortunate enough to conjure spells from their soft hands and delicate fingers. His callused hands, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't do it.

At the age of fifteen, Clive's father grew sick with some unknown disease. Clive became the sole breadwinner for the family, and spent long and aching hours at sea, out in the winds and the cold. His further sense of injustice was even further irked - he worked his fingers to the bone, while the rich and spoiled nobles his age partied the night away. He could hear their revelry when returning to his home late at night, their laughter and shouts echoing through the night. But that was the way things were in Brigham, and there was nothing to be done about it.

Tragically, Clive's father passed away when Clive was seventeen, leaving him as the head of the household. His younger brother, Stefan, began to bring in coin as well. He'd vanish into the shadows in the early morning, and return late at night with a pocketful of coin. Clive was suspicious, but said nothing - until one night, Stefan returned, bruised and beaten, lacking a single coin. Upon confronting him, the truth was spilled out. Stephan had been pickpocketing from nobles in the richer districts, using the connection of a richer friend to slip past the guards which usually kept the ruffians out. And though he had been caught and harshly punished, it returned more than all Clive's time at sea. "Just one good snatch a day is all you need to make a whole day's wage. It's worth it. Honest." Stefan claimed, through a blackened eye and bloody nose.

Clive, against his better judgement, gave the idea consideration. After a few sleepless nights, it began to consume his waking moment. All his hard work barely kept them afloat - and he'd stolen as a child plenty of times. It wasn't that difficult. And there were rumors from the docks that they had overfished the area. The rich hauls that they had become accustomed to had started to wane - and his small boat could hardly keep up with expenses as is. When the sun emerged over the horizon the next morning, Clive's boat remained tethered at the dock, its nets idle and uncast. Nervously, he skulked to the darkened alleys of Brigham, where the Street Crawlers were rumored to lurk.

It was difficult to get a foot in the door, but he managed it. An experienced thief by the name of Samuel decided to take on an apprentice, as he was getting a little older. It was a simple arrangement - Samuel explained how to pick the locks and avoid the guards, and Clive would do it. Clive would put his life on the line to grab treasures with a worth much greater than he could understand, and Samuel would take fifty percent of the profit. Looking back, Clive regrets his foolishness. In reality, Samuel took nearly ninety percent. The riches he stole were worth far more than the pitiful coppers Samuel gave him as "half the spoils", but there was no way for a inexperienced young man to know these things.

As dangerous and brutal as life in the gang could be, it was a better life than fishing. Clive made friends with some of the other young men, driven by desperation into the same situation. His story was echoed many times - the taxes were too high, the rent was too much, a simple misfortune had put the family underwater. And all the while, the mages lived in luxury. Too engrossed in their studies to see the struggles of the common people. And yet, rich and powerful enough to nearly control the government. The King didn't give a damn about the fishermen, cobblers, and farmers that couldn't survive.

But at twenty, Clive stole something worth more than anything he had purchased before. Through sheer coincidence and luck, he stole the heart of a young woman by the name of Alice - a daughter of one of the more powerful mages in the city. They bumped into each other at a bread store, struck up a conversation, and...decided to meet again. It was almost unheard of, for a commoner to romance a mage's daughter. Perhaps the scandal of it all was what appealed most to her. Perhaps it was his stories of thrill and danger, and of a life with real choices and consequences. Alice was not as fortunate as her father - she lacked the ability to harness the magic in the world. While she had lived with all of her wants and needs fulfilled by her father, she was sheltered and ignored in favor of her sisters, who were blessed with the gift of magic. Clive was poor and rough, but he was honest and kind, unlike her prospective suitors. Her father was attempting to raise the status of their house, and there was a tentative arranged marriage between Alice and a spoiled nobleman by the name of Oliver.

Needless to say, when Alice broke the news of her newfound love to her father, it went poorly. He was disgusted at Clive's poor upbringing, his lack of manners (and relevant connections), and the fact that this commoner dared to go against the social order. Oliver, a short and stout weasel of a man, was upset as well. However, there were no laws directly forbidding their relationship, so there was nothing Alice's father could truly do about it. After resorting to every threat and bribe under the sun, he gave up trying to change his stubborn daughter's mind, and cast her out of his household.

Though she lost the wealth and luxury she had grown up with, Alice was happy. Clive and her were deeply in love - it was as if their souls were designed by the Gods themselves to be two parts of a whole. The two moved into a small lodging above a local tavern, as Clive's brothers had began to make their ways in the world and no longer needed his support. Their life was simple, but happy. Clive began to withdraw from the Street Crawlers and return to fishing - and by some blessing of the gods, the hauls improved, he hired on a few men, and their life showed nothing but promise.

That was, until a fateful day. After a long day out at sea, Clive returned home...to a door, broken at the hinges. Fearfully, he pushed the door, which creakily opened, revealing his beloved wife. Or, at least, what was left of her. Alice's body was sprawled on the floor, battered and bloodied. It was a sight he will never forget. He howled in grief, falling to his knees, weeping for what could have been hours. After recovering enough to limp downstairs, he was greeted by a city watchman, bearing handcuffs. Supposedly, an anonymous informant had reported overhearing a quarrel between him and his wife, which had escalated into violence. The guardsmen wouldn't reveal the source of the information, nor hold a trial. It was clear, they claimed, that he had done it. After all, a brute like him, with ties to the dangerous Street Crawler gang? It was only inevitable. In the course of a single day, Clive's business was seized and sold, and he was thrown into a dank and moldy cell to await his execution. His future was shattered into a thousand pieces, utterly ruined forever.

His past, however, came back to call. The night before his execution, a rope was thrown through a window, with the iron bars melted by some strange alchemy. Samuel, though now a crotchety old bastard of a man, believed that he owed his apprentice one. Though he had nearly lost the will to live, Clive climbed the rope, met by the grim faces of his old friends. After spiriting him away to a hideout in the depths of the alleys of the city, they revealed a horrific truth - one of their local informants (a ten year old street rat) claimed to have seen a well dressed man pay off a guard. The description of the man - short, ginger, and overweight - was exactly that of Oliver, Alice's scorned fiancee.

"The mages of this city can do whatever they damn please. The rules don't apply to them. I say we do something about it for once." a conspirator named Nelson spat, and Clive, lost in his rage and grief, found a new purpose. He had worked his whole life for something better, while the mages had it handed to them for nothing. And when he had finally found something wonderful, something pure, it had been snatched away by one. His future was gone...but he'd take theirs away, too. He'd heard of the methods of the Elves in the North - Purification. A counter to magic, achieved through either internal peace or force of will. After a few weeks, Clive vanished from the city, lost in the pursuit of this mystical art. He traveled through Eboris, chasing lead after lead. While he found some disciples of the technique, they all said the same thing - to master Purification, head to Athela. Clive had no lost love for the Elven people (although he had hardly met any, being a common fisherman), but he was determined. After arriving in Athela, he searched out a master of Purification - an old, retired Guardian named Yanesh Marian. After nearly a year of searching, he found the old master, tucked away in the heart of Athela. Falling at the elf's feet, Clive begged to be taught the art of Purification. He told the elf his story, and claimed that the elves were right - magic was the source of all evil in the world. He swore that if Yanesh taught him, he'd act as an agent against the Magi Consortium for the rest of his life.

Yanesh consented, with terms and conditions - Clive would become a servant of his family for five years, in return for five years of training. Without a second of hesitation, Clive agreed. Being a servant in Athela was hardly pleasant - the Elves were clear in discrimination against him, and he was clearly unwelcome. But Athela was a lush and rich land, and though he was a servant, he was treated fairly by Yanesh's family. Over time, the Elven viewpoints began to sink more deeply into his mind. It was unjust that their empire had been taken away and ruined by the mages. Magic was unfair, and clearly a blight upon the world. Although he thought these things already, his times in Athela did nothing but reinforce his dedication and cause. He trained vigorously and relentlessly - however, meditation proved to be fruitless. His mind was restless, and he continuously failed to calm his thoughts and achieve the concentration necessary to achieve the art. Yanesh took him aside and expressed that perhaps it wasn't meant to be - however, Clive refused to back away from their agreement. His life was purposeless - only revenge mattered at this point.

"Perhaps there is another way." Yanesh claimed, pushing aside the candles and spices of meditation. "Some claim that purification is not about being calm enough to produce internal tranquility. Rather, you merely need to be resolute and without internal conflict. Try again, but focus on something. Anything. Perhaps this will help."

And the next day, with the thought of his beloved Alice, Clive produced his first Purification aura. It was a small, feeble spell, covering the area the size of a chair. But it was progress, and that was enough. The next four years were fruitful - he found that by focusing in on his hate and desire for revenge, he could create a powerful effect on the area around him. Magic enchantments fell to pieces, runes lost their power, potions fizzled into nothingness. It was almost unprecedented. However, focusing on grief and revenge for such a long period of time is hardly healthy. Yanesh urged him to move on and let go, but there was no turning back. At the end of the fifth year, Clive bid farewell to his master, and returned to Brigham.

The night he returned, he broke into the manor where Oliver lived. Spells meant to keep intruders out dissolved into air, and a single shot of Clive's crossbow put an end to the unfortunate guard at the end of the street. Shakily, he pushed open the grand doors of the building, and took a step inside. Clutching his mace at his side tightly, his hand trembled. After all, he'd waited for this moment for years. As he crept through the house, he heard laughter coming from the bedroom upstairs. It filled him with rage. How dare this spoiled murderer have wealth and joy after all he'd done. He didn't deserve any of it. And Clive would fix that.

He pushed open the door to the bedroom, revealing Oliver and his newfound wife (a plump woman by the name of Anne) in bed together. She screamed when he entered. It was a shrill, obnoxious sound. Oliver leapt to his feet, pointing his finger at Clive and shouting some useless invocation. It did nothing. The face that Oliver made upon realizing his powers were gone certainly is a fond memory for Clive, even if what came next...wasn't the cathartic moment he was expecting. Oliver fell to his knees, begging Clive to spare his life, and Anne as well. He claimed he was sorry, that he had made a mistake, that he'd take it all back if he could.

The crack his legs made when Clive broke them was quite satisfying. And once Oliver was helpless, incapable of running away...Clive beat Anne to death with his mace. Slowly. It wasn't enjoyable - in fact, her bloodied body reminded him of Alice. It sickened him. But he had gone this far, and there was no turning back. Once he had finished with the first part of his revenge, Clive smashed Oliver's skull in, crushing it to pieces.

After all this time, his journey was over. He'd done it. He'd gotten his revenge, after all of these years. And yet...it wasn't what he had hoped. He was still a profoundly broken man, Alice was still dead, and avenging her hadn't made him whole again. Yanesh was right. Clive sat on the ledge of Oliver's second floor balcony for hours, pondering what came next.

Perhaps he hadn't gone far enough. Perhaps that was why he wasn't satisfied. After all, there was still work to do. Now, Clive wanders the land, hunting mages for both pleasure and profit. Known as the Butcher of Brigham, his notoriety is certainly notable in some regions of Dascus. Currently, he is stationed with the Athelan army near the Haden Hill, under the guise of a mercenary - after all, this is a great opportunity. Everyone knows that the armies of Dascus hold plenty of mages in their ranks.

Plenty of guilty rats, awaiting their judgement.

Fighting Style: Warrior/Purifier
Abilities:

• [Sphere of Purification]: When focused and/or enraged, Clive can nullify any and all magic attacks or elements in a circle (20 meter radius) around him. Magic arrows become regular arrows. Teleportation sputters and fails. Magic spells fizzle into dust at the fingertips of their caster. Runes are naught but irrelevant scribbles to Clive. Even dragon's fire is snuffed out into smoke. This is the great equalizer - all creatures are brought to their bare essentials, flesh and blood.
• [Street Brawler]: "Honor is made up bullshit by the noble bastards that keep us scrabbling around in the dirt. Stab 'em in the back when they ain't lookin', go for the eyes and the groin, and do whatever it takes to be the one standin' at the end of the day."
• [Sticky Fingers]: Clive is a seasoned pickpocket and thief, able to snatch keys off keyrings, pouches off belts, and purses off arms with ease. He's deceptively quick for a rather unassuming man, and has the uncanny ability to disappear into a crowd.

Limitations:

• [Xenophobe]: "If it ain't human, you can't trust it worth a damn. Those Thalari are no better than the animals we slaughter for food. Dwarves? Nasty little midgets. Elves...well, I respect 'em about as much as us humans. Which ain't much, for the record."
• [Naught But A Man]: Clive has no magic spells, no enchanted sword, and no shining mithril armour. While he may be strong and tough as nails, he stands no chance against creatures naturally stronger than him.

Equipment:

• [Ol' Reliable]: A plain mace. Little more than an iron bar with a flanged end. Soaked in the guilty blood of mages brought to their knees.
• [Crossbow]: A standard sized crossbow, with around fifty bolts stored along his belt and bandolier.
• [Gambeson Coat]: Clive's longcoat is padded, giving him protection against some blows. It's no suit of armor, but it's better than nothing.
• [Caltrops]: Good for aiding a quick retreat from a superior opponent.
• [Throwing Knives]: About ten small throwing knives. Relatively self explanatory.

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: Rid the world of the scum, or die trying.
Favorite Factions: The Street Crawlers, Wanderers, Faenar's Faithful
Least Favorite Factions: The Magi Consortium
Favorite Memory: Clive's favorite memory is dancing with his beloved Alice. It's in the evening after a humble day's work at the docks, and a nearby street bard is strumming a familiar tune. While their humble abode is nothing spectacular, it is warm and comfortable. A delicious pot of stew broils on the stove, cooked with love and the honest effort of a woman who loves him deeply and truly. Their future is bright and full of potential.
Goals: Kill as many mages as he can. Regardless of nation or creed, they're all guilty.
Religion: "There are no gods. But if there were, they damn sure aren't worth worshiping."

[North America Inc]

Name: Eredin 'The Father' Merrigan
Age: 51
Gender: M
Race: Human
Appearance:

Pic 1

Pic 2

Pic 3

Pic 4

Mage?: Yes
Bio:
Fighting Style: Assassin/Warlock
Abilities:

• [Spatial Teleportation]: Able to channel his rune to go to specific locations in his line of sight areas with relative ease.
• [Master Assassin]: Incredibly skilled fighter and assassin with an intense knowledge on the various anatomies of most sapient species. With enough reconnaissance, he can create intricate plans to deal with specific targets based on their vulnerabilities and habits.
• [Free Running] Able to easily traverse across any climbing platform with ease, with issues such as balance and dexterity being of little concern to him.

Limitations:

• If he were to free herself from the Patron, all abilities loaned will return to it.
• Although the Patron tends to be 'hands-off management' should it provide direct orders, he will unquestionably follow through with it.
• Should the Patron be bored, he might temporarily remove the abilities as well.
• Line of sight teleport jumps to specific locations, he can go to places he can not physically see.
• Each jump has a minimum of thirty second gap before he can do so again. This increases exponentially depending on his stamina and the present situation.
• Has only light armor that favors speed over protection, nearly defenseless to heavy attacks.
• Age is very much a lingering factor. He doesn't have the same ferociousness and speed that other opponents may have.
• He doesn't have precognition. He can not predict unwieldy or unseen variables.
  

Equipment:

• [Handheld Crossbow]
• [Dual Daggers]
• [Smoke Bombs]

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: Finding a way to break the curse, although there's no clear plan as to how to do so.
Favorite Factions: N/A
Least Favorite Factions: Treodor
Favorite Memory: Those fencing sessions they use to have, as they served as a catalyst to repair their broken relationship.
Goals: Freedom for him and his daughter.
Greatest Fear: The Loss of his Daughter
Religion: Irreligious

---

Name: Amelia 'The Maiden' Merrigan
Age: 27
Gender: F
Race: Human
Appearance:

Pic 1

Pic 2

Pic 3

Mage?: Yes
Bio:
Fighting Style: Warlock/Assassin
Abilities:

• [Shadow Manipulation]: Utilizing the rune on her hand, Amelia is able to bring forth a tendril force through her limbs and around her body. Akin to those found on a Octopus, it can extend and retract according to her limitations and preferences. It can interact with the environment according to her will, through simple commands such as pulling or pushing to attacking and defending. It can pierce non armored opponents and be utilized as a defensive barrier.
• [Clone]: Removing her 'shadow' from her body, she's able to create a doppelganger of sorts to follow through with predetermined commands.
• [Free Running]:Like her father, Amelia is able to climb, traverse, and run through any environment at near superhuman agility and speed.

[b]Limitations:

• If she were to free herself from the Patron, all abilities loaned will return to it.
• Although the Patron tends to be 'hands-off management' should it provide direct orders, she will unquestionably follow through with it.
• Should the Patron be bored,she might temporarily remove the abilities as well.
• As expected, any magical disturbances or elven purification will nullify or minimize her abilities.
• As an urban assassin, she is not use to other environments. While she might be able to free-run off trees with no difficulty, actually surviving and traversing in nature would be exceptionally difficult.
• Should a portion of a tentacle be removed through slashing or something similar, everything disconnected from her will instantly wither and die.
• Her shadow can only pull a target that's twice the weight of her or below; anything else would easily resist.
• Individual tentacles only have the physical strength equivalent to her own lackluster human arm. One or two can be swiped or pushed away with ease.
• Her shadow has a range of twenty feet.
• Her shadow can outright be destroyed with fire based abilities. Requires twenty minutes for the ability to return.
• Her clone can only reiterate predetermined saying with a maximum of 100 words, combined. It can lift anything or interact the environment in anyway.
• Her clone should it need to return, must travel the distance between them to come back. Should it be trapped somehow, she must go there physically and release it.
• She can not have her clone and shadow out at the same time.
• Releasing too many shadow tentacles at once will eventually weaken abilities of each individual strand.
• Requires an initiation period of five to ten seconds between uses; with a violet aura as a telltale sign of its activation.
• Should she not use any of her abilities for ten to fifteen minutes, it will need to be recast.
• Shadow armor is no more effective then chain-mail at stopping direct swipes.
• Shadow armor is preventive not reactive. It has no healing properties.

Equipment:

• [Handheld Crossbow]
• [Twin Daggers]
• [Poison Darts]

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: To just end it.
Favorite Factions: N/A
Least Favorite Factions: N/A
Favorite Memory: Her Twelfth Birthday
Goals: Freedom
Greatest Fear: Eternal Life
Religion: Irreligious

The detail elude us.

The year is 1173. Eredin was born into a prestigious noble family, with sizable connections to various elites within Society. Born in tandem with a twin sister Mary, their formative years was nothing out of the ordinary, with the two being inseparable from each other. Tutors would come and go from the estate, educating the two on various fields of study, from mathematics to religious studies. Unsurprisingly fencing became the most popular sport between the two, with both competing to see who was the better swordsman; it was Mary, yet Eredin would never outright admit it at that age. Religious indoctrination and scientific curiosity, coupled with societal expectations, began to mold the minds of the two, with both later expressing interest in joining the main religious body of the city: the Choir.

The Choir ruled over the City State of Kadeth, a bustling yet secretive city with a loose connection to the actual continent. An all human city they patently rejected the merfolk’s claim of ownership of the seas and would often have skirmishes with the Kingdom of Treodor. Kadeth was very different from the rest of the continent, it’s technology, magic aptitude, and level of development going much further than what any other city could even claim; they held themselves above the mainlanders, viewing them as inferior. Ascension and Insight were the central pillars of the Choir, the religious body that spearheaded such investigations into more arcane fields of study. The Choir rejected the Parthenon and instead put forward many other inhuman concepts and entities, promising the citizenry that the Great Journey would end with their ascension into a much higher plane of existence. According to the dogma of the clerics, said plain was where humanity was from until the “Fall”. Thus the Great Journey was almost sold to the populace a return home. Why said religious authority saw the necessity for a return is unknown, and it's not known whether said decision making played any role in the city’s fate. Experimentation were conducted extensively testing the possibility of plane shifting and the human form was constantly tested to see if they could go beyond its limitations; most of this hidden from the populace.

It was in this Golden Era of Kadeth that both Mary and Eredin entered the Choir, joining two different bureaucratic entities within it. While Mary joined the Institute of the Flesh, Eredin would spend most of his twenties acting as an embedded spy for Kadeth in Treodor and Dascus, for entirely different reasons. The Choir had hoped to unleash a Crusade in the near future and establish a puppet kingdom, should the Heretics and Merfolk destroy each other; Dascus was quickly developing and their magical aptitude might one day surpass Kadeth. Eredin would still intellectual knowledge and state secrets and send it through their robust spy network; he would even hire these Street Crawlers to do his dirty work should anonymity be a high priority. These early years on the continent would prove to be very useful in his ‘later life’, although it might have been this history that set him apart.

Returning to his homeland at the age of 25, his family was quick to find a suitable bride for him; not only ensuring his presence but that he would eventually take over the estate. The following year his wife, Tabatha, gave birth to a healthy baby daughter, Amelia. The following years would prove to be a mixed bag for both daughter and father, divided by their interpersonal strife. Eredin would quick rise to prominence within the Choir, becoming something akin to their spymaster, charged with keeping the activities of their various branches secret. Amelia, on the other hand, was intensively sequestered within the life of a noble woman. She wanted to break free from it but couldn’t; her mother did not want to hear it.

The year is 1218. The forces of Kadeth were on the move. The time of the Great Crusade was approaching and the land of Treodor would finally face the wrath of the Gods and their new servants. The Holy Pontiff would go on for days in each sermon, speaking about the necessity of the Great Journey; he warned that those that stained their feet would be left behind and forced to suffer for eternity. Eredin was now an essential part of the internal bureaucracy of the city, his superiors fashioning him to eventually lead the entire Inquisition; Amelia for her part was able to fashion some martial training through secretive sessions with her father. Her father for most of her early childhood was never there, Eredin for sometime despised the entire idea of a family; he had a duty to a million people, not just two. This hostility lingered into her teenage years, with an absentee father and a protective mother, she had few outlets. Yet, Eredin and her eventually worked it out and he would begin training her; not too make her a weapon like him, but to finally connect with each other. At least, that is what they tell themselves now; their memory gets fuzzier the closer they get to the Event.

It's the Fifteenth Day of the Third Month, the Event will occur in thirteen hours. Amelia has a Ball scheduled for later tonight, Eredin was to be stuck at the Citadel for a few hours later than usual, a few more experiments that require his attention. The Pontiff would be at the Temple of the Unseen, praying the customer prayers. One man would lie in a prison, his pleas having fallen onto dead years. A Chief Scholar would be finalizing his personal project with absolute glee, the final piece having finally been acquired; it's wails being the damper to his mood. In less than a Month, the forces of Kadeth were scheduled to finally unleash their armies and its titular super-weapon against the mainland.

There’s three hours left. The final approval had been authorized. Eredin can not remember anything past this. Amelia remembers specific pieces of the Ball, such as the color of the dining room to a few familiar faces in the crowd.

There’s one hour left. Behold the PaleBlood Sky.

It’s one day after the Event. Every inhabitant of the city is gone. No bodies can be seen or found, no sign of violence. Its marvelous architecture and decrepit ideology left to rot for the rest of time. Merfolk were forced to discover the truth, exploring portions of the cities’ extensive canal network. None were to live. Each Merfolk expedition into the city seemed to bring death for every explorer; their bodies would morph into twisted parodies of themselves. Agents of Treodor were the next to arrive at Kadeth, a certain glee to see what has befallen their enemy. They walked up and down the city to discover no enemy force, and were quick to begin plundering. They too suffered the same fate. For even though they never faced metal, they certainly tasted it. The explorers would bleed even though they were never punctured, they were burned yet they faced no fire, and died even though they never understood why. Treodor and its inhabitants would leave the city to its’ vices, superstition and religious dogma soon overtaking the true Event. The story of Kadeth and the lost City in one hundred years time has become a folklore known throughout the land, from men to beast; each culture interrupting the event in other ways. Where the people punished? Or did they truly Ascend? Only the gods know.

It’s one Day after the Event. Congratulations were in order the Being said with a rather twisted humor. Eredin and Amelia had survived the night, woken from the nightmare to find themselves somewhere. It felt like a dream, they were lucid yet surrounded in darkness; they could feel themselves but never hit the ground. They don’t remember much of what happened after, yet they understand the result; this Patron Being had other interests to attend too. Their survival during the event was apparently owed to this Patron, and he wanted them to work off the debt. Did they agree? They must have, why else are they here?

When they awoke in Hercynia they quickly embraced each other; both were not aware that the Entity had been discussing with both. When they realized they had marks etched into their respective neck and left hands, the being revealed itself. Amelia saw it for the first time, a Beautiful Woman wearing all white. Her skin was brown yet clear, and she had a stylized neck brace around her; a style of clothing she had never seen before. Yet Eredin saw something different, a middle aged man with unhealthy pale skin and discolored blonde hair. He was wrapped in some add linens, all black, with only a faint white cotton hidden under some unnecessary red silk running right down his body. She was stylized and expressive, he was clinical and wholly formal. Yet they said the same thing. They had been given separate gifts, this magic wasn’t necessarily more powerful than other castors but was definitely a more radical applications of it. Then they were given an objective. Assassinate this target.

And they did. As the years went by, they fell into a routine. They performed a task and they carried it out. Sometimes it would be too secure this but it always end with them back in stasis. They became more honed with their magical abilities, learning that they were summoning their respective magical abilities from the Brands themselves; despite their research they haven’t been able to find an explanation. They also discovered the Patron had a third appearance, a pudgy bald man wearing peasant rags would sometimes be seen other onlookers when he decided to grace them with its presence. The two would often wonder if they could even die, both too fearful of the consequences: what if they are chained to do this forever? What if they die and It is there to punish them more.

They don’t understand their predicament yet they are chained to it. They only cherish each other, walking this road, facing a punishment for a crime they can not remember.

[Tomia]

Clive Paxton

Accepted

[The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune]

Name: Vladimir of Liskov
Age: 49
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:

Mage?: No

Bio: Vladimir was born in the Tasharian trade capitol of Liskov to a thief and a whore. One might expect a tragic childhood to emerge from this, but Vlad's actually turned out to be somewhat peaceful and even happy. His parents did their best to keep their professions out of the home, and made enough money between them to keep Vlad clothed and even send him to a school to learn basic arithmatic along with reading and writing. Vlad's school days were typical for a Tasharian youth, although he did excel at Yztras, a dwarven sport involving a small ball that one must hit into a hoop from the back of a giant ram. Upon reaching manhood, like all young men in the Empire, Vlad was conscripted into the army, and entered training.

In the army, Vlad became known as a man who, while tough and hard on the outside, always tried to achieve the best outcome for everyone involved. He excelled in discipline and in leadership, and rose to the rank of Sergeant of the Empire, the highest rank an unnoble soldier could hope to achieve. After his required 15 years of service, Vlad was given a soldier's pension and his retirement notice. However, his work had not gone unnoticed. For a long time, Vlad had served faithfully under the Voyar Liopeld Hertrov. The Voyar had greatly enjoyed Vlad's company and friendship during their years of service together and, calling in a few favors, had obtained for Vlad an Imperial Commission. This would require Vlad dedicate another 25 years to the service, but now as an officer, and at the end of this service be granted a minor title and a far greater pension of land.

Vlad accepted, and after being titled Vladimir of Liskov, Liutenant of the Grand Legion, was assigned a small squadron of soldiers, which he led dutifully in various border skirmishes with Athela and Dascus. He gained a small reputation as the Old Bull among the soldiers of the Grand Legion and he served well. It was also in this time that Vlad fell in love with the daughter of a small time nobleman. She was only the third daughter, and because Vlad was also set to become a noble, the two were wed. Together they had a daughter together. Vlad has since been serving and waiting for the day he may claim his nobility and land.

Fighting Style: Soldier (Trained but unprofessional warrior)
Abilities:

• Swordsman: Vlad is an accomplished sword fighter, about as good as a peasent trained with the weapon can get.

Limitations:

• One Man- Vlad isn't a powerful mage, gifted nobleman or accomplished rogue. He's just a soldier whose good at his job. He's not going to win a 1v1 duel against a trained member of any order of knights, or be able to take down more than 3 untrained opponents at a time.

Equipment:

• Soldier's Kit- Vlad is equipped with a standard Tasharian soldiers kit. This includes basic armor, a sword and shield, a tent, a bedroll, and about a weeks worth of rations at any given time.

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: Survive to retire
Favorite Factions: Tashar
Least Favorite Factions: Anyone presently trying to kill him
Favorite Memory: The birth of his daughter
Goals: Retire
Greatest Fear: Dying
Religion: The Pantheon

[Tomia]

Eredin 'The Father' Merrigan and Amelia 'The Maiden' Merrigan

Accepted

[Shadowwell]

Name: Vautmunn the "Giant", Debtor of the Bank of Ashar, Drunk Alchemist
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race:Dwarf-Ga'el hybrid
Appearance (pics if possible): All in all Vautmunn is a typical dwarf in appearance, boasting a thick beard and a substantial amount of muscle. However there are a few features Vautmunns holds which are atypical for dwarves, his height, and the proof of his Thalari parentage. Vautmunn stands at 5 feet 7 inches tall, towering over most dwarves and some humans and Thalari. In addition he has retractable claws and a lion tail, the claws are typically concealed though.
Mage?: Alchemist and Runesmith
Bio:Vautmunn was born in the city of Ashar in the Empire of Tashar. Growing up in the dwarven city he knew that he was far from normal for a dwarf. He was always a bit larger than most dwarf children, not to mention a couple other features he possessed others did not, a tail and retractable claws. While his fellow dwarves did not really care about his differing appearance there are always those who react violently to things which are 'strange' or different. This in turn led to Vautmunn getting into a few fights earlier on in his life, but he was a quick study in such matters.

Nearly a dozen years ago he took a courier task for the Bank of Ashar. Despite being young he was somewhat capable at the time, the task was simple, deliver a package to the Capital of Varum. He reached Varum with little incident, but once there the package was stolen from him by Street Crawlers. The Bank learned of this and thus Vautmunn became a Debtor to the Bank.

He was not a Debt Slave to the Bank, rather they provided him training in Runesmithing and Alchemy and gave him the means to begin paying back his debt. Over the years since then he has done ore than a few jobs for the Bank and others as well, he has left the Empire of tashar a few times but not extensively. Most recently he was sent to Haden Hill with some other employees of the Bank for certain reasons.

Fighting Style: Archer wielding Runesmithed arrows Or a Warrior using a Warhammer and enhancement potions.
Abilities:

• Hybrid physiology: Vautmunn is a Half-Dwarf and Half-Ga'el, as such he is far larger than a normal dwarf and far smaller than most Ga'el. He has traits and strengths of both races to a certain extent. He is quite strong for his size and faster than one would think because of it.
  
• [Insert Ability Here]: (Insert description of ability here)
  
• [Insert Ability Here]: (Insert description of ability here)
  
• [Insert Ability Here]: (Insert description of ability here)
  
• [Insert Ability Here]: (Insert description of ability here)

Limitations:

• Master of None: As skilled as Vautmunn is in his crafts and fields, he is no master. Additionally he is reliant on his alchemy and runesmithing for his arrows and potions.
  
• (Insert Limitation)
  (Note, you do not have a maximum or minimum of 2 limitations. If you don’t need all those, delete them. If you need more, copy and paste.)

Equipment:

• The Lions Roar: a specially crafted Runesmithed Warhammer, one head of the hammer is a lions head the other is stylized like a barrel. When the lions head makes contact with something heavily Vautmunn can make it release a sonic shockwave. This ability can only be used a max of 5 times before the hammer starts taking damage.
  
• Reinforced Armor: A mostly mundane set of chainmail reinforced with leather plates on much of the upper torso. Through runesmithing runes of durability and protection have been added. Beneath the leather and chainmail there is a specially treated cloth armor which Vautmunn wears outside of combat as well, but typically under the other armor.
  
• Composite Bow: A normal well crafted and well maintained bow.
  
• Runesmithed Arrows: He typically carries an assortment of specially crafted Runesmithed arrows, around 2 dozen in all. Their effects activate on impact predominantly. Said effects vary from releasing lightning into the target and surroundings to encasing the target with quickly hardening mud to other similar effects.
  
• Normal Arrows: Vautmunn typically carries anywhere from 40 to 60 mundane arrows of varying types.
  
• Enhancement potions: Typically Vautmunn carries 5-10 potions which deal with enhancing his physical attributes. 3 of these specifically increase his strength by a moderate amount through magical means. Most of the others deal with enhancing his body as a whole while a couple enhance his reflexes, perception, and reaction time, which he uses in conjunction with his bow and arrows.
  
• Miscellaneous potions: These potions range in function from potions of healing to potions which emit gasses and smokes to potions which numb and paralyze.
  
• Miscellaneous items. In addition to everything else Vautmunn has items used in maintaining his equipment and other miscellaneous goods including but not limiting to food, some first aid materials, booze and similar things.

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: Absolve himself of his debt to the Bank
Favorite Factions: Merry Men: He appreciates their dedication to Wine.
Least Favorite Factions: Street Crawlers
Favorite Memory:
Goals: Repay his debt and establish a bar in Ashar
Greatest Fear:
Religion:

[Zarkenis Ultima]

The character list is up to date 100% real no fake -nods-

[Tomia]

Vladimir of Liskov

Accepted

[Tomia]

Btw if anyone has suggestions for quests, either general or specific to your characters, feel free to post them here or send them to me and we'll consider making them available when questing time comes.

[Ihsalihna]

Name: Kaakaltin Tla'a
Age: 42
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:

Mage?: No
Bio:

Kaakaltin Tla'a, like many folk of the wilderness who have spent great periods of time travelling the lands, is known by several names. The common informal system of Forester nicknames in the north ties Tla'a to many lands, but is only the placewhere she is known as Tla'a that she truly belongs to. The one where she is called Clan Mother.

The Kulut'ruaq people, who call themselves the People of the Tides, are the caretakers of the Kulut'ruaq Aaní Great Chiefdom, one of the foremost naval and warrior nations of the Confederacy of Eshon. They live at the edge of the great Gulf of Tides, one of the warmest and southernmost lands of Eshon, covered in towering forests of massive trees, jagged ice-capped mountains of ancient stone and great and plentiful rivers. The waters bring great prosperity to the Kulut'ruaq, who enjoy multitudes of fish and great farms of aquatic flora, which has allowed them to become great exporters of food, masterful sailors, and has contributed to a beautiful artistic culture that is renown across the lands. The Kulut'ruaq are not always known as artists in foreign lands, however - some call them Eshon's answer to Treodor's raiders, and they are fierce warriors and naval combatants, complimenting the strength of the Moose riders on land when not assaulting by sea. To many they represent the most colourful and most aggressive of the Eshon tribes, and are among those of their northern and eastern brethren who have brought war many times to the Tasharen Empire's borders.

Kaakaltin Tla'a was born to the matriarch of the Black Dog Clan, of the Raven kinship - Black Dog lodges being present in several major settlements, this influential kinship group share a proud history and possessive rights to their family lands, songs, stories and relics. Born among the misty forests, in the rainswept shadow of great mountains marking the edge of Eshon's impenetrable tundra, Tla'a was raised in a thriving city of massive, spectacularly painted multi-story long-houses surrounded by great towering carved totems that held the ancestors of every house and family. As is the custom of the Kulut'ruaq her father set out to travel after her birth, and she was raised by her mother and uncle.

As the daughter of the matriarch, born into a clan of prestige, Tla'a was afforded the upbringing of an aristocrat. As minor nobility she was trained in the customs and ways of the world, taught the importance of their festivals that brought clans together, of the importance of living with respect and harmony with the earth and people around her. Her mother Kaaháni was wise after decades of leadership, and her mother's brother Stuwukháa, as is the custom for her people, became her teacher, caretaker, and enforcer of discipline. From a young age it was clear she was stubborn and headstrong, with iron in her bloods. Fit for the life of a warrior - and all the trials that came with it.

From the age of six she was trained to endure the cold and wet, wading into the frigid seas and remaining for as long as possible until passing out. A people who spend half of their lives in our near the water, gathering their sustenance, this was environmental training, meant to improve endurance - as they grew older still, upon returning to shore and having the warmth returned to her body, she and the other warriors in training would be whipped with thin branches until they bled. In the custom of bravery, she would lean into the strikes. Across the long, cold beaches of sand and pebbles, the boys and Tla'a would carry massive driftwood logs. Through the dark and dangerous forests they ran barefoot through the snow, taught to move silently and efficiently - those who were too slow and spent too long in the snow would have their feet ravished by frostbite. Using the arms as much as the legs until they became strong - using the trees and rocks to stay above the forest floor - tasked with searching for rare herbs or precious metallic meteorites found in the north, an other greatly valuable things that would help the tribe to survive.

Wrestling, hunting, fighting with spear, sword, shield and axe - the strongest were given tailor-made armour made of ironwood trees, meteoric metals and the skin of great beasts, combined with runic magic that made them as strong as steel without the weight. These were champions of their house, their clan, their tribe - warriors tasked with leading in battle and smashing enemy lines, or fighting duels to settle disputes within the Confederacy's many tribes and so avoid wasteful bloodshed among allies. Kulut'ruaq "knights" traditionally formed heavy shock infantry units, terrifying marine raiders, or more imposingly, heavy cavalry regiments mounted on the Great Moose of Eshon. It was exactly where she wanted to be, exactly what she wanted to do with her life - defend her people, make war upon the invaders, and yet... yet always something felt like it was missing.

In the years of harsh training Tla'a's some of fondest memories were the times her harsh but fair uncle would praise her or take her aside to talk of philosophy and tell stories of their family. Festivals spent at her mothers side too were times of warmth and happiness, but at the rare times her father returned from his wanderings to spend the summer were some of her happiest. Raised by their uncles, Kulut'ruaq children are often downright spoiled by their fathers - Tla'a's father Kito would take her fishing, tell her stories of far off lands, and give her a chance to relax and live a carefree life among the duties of her aristocratic warrior life. But never for too long. Always she grew restless, and then her father would return to his wandering. And things would remain the same.

It was harsh to grow up this way, but in a way it only accentuated all that she had to be thankful for and all the joys of life.

She met K'alyaan one day while hunting on the borderlands between tribes. A flash of dark eyes in the moonlight, two shadowy figures watching each other across a mountain stream, the breath of their mist wreathing their heads and their bows drawn taught... it was an unconventional way to meet your husband, but Kaakaltin Tla'a had always been an unconventional woman. As the man she'd met in the woods that night kept popping up again and again, at festivals and tribal meetings, she'd gripped him the front of his tunic and asked him if he was following her. He could only say he thanked the spirits that he been blessed to see her again and again.

K'alyaan was a warrior, and he once again had to march off to defend the frontiers - but not before he had left Kaakaltin longing to see him return. He was one of the first people to make her feel able to relax, to just take life as it came - carefree and happy, never taking things so seriously as she did. The next time he returned to his clan she asked him to marry her.

It was a simple ceremony, and not long after he had given her two beautiful sons. Time went on, and she lost her mother. Clan Mother was something she struggled to fill, even with all her years of preparation, but soon she eased into the role. The title of Warden Captain was much easier to adapt to and fit like a glove - denoting one who served as a ranger and defender of Eshonie lands along the borders, a post held by skilled warriors and tribal nobility alike. In this role she led many raids into Tasharen territory, aiding border tribes and travelling the lands to acquire intelligence and several times aiding the Foresters as well in their defence against marauding armies.

War and leadership tired her, and during the long winters she was left alone, leading her clan after the death of her mother - but she knew always that, like her father, like the spring, her husband would return home in time and her life would once more be in harmony. In the meantime she taught her children the stories of her people, the wisdom of their grandmother, the way of the world around them, always smiling softly at the wonder and excitement in their eyes.

She hadn't smiled when she found her youngest causing his brother to levitate off the ground - the spark in their eyes had been so innocent, but she could only worry as a mother does. To discover they were mages... it was always considered a blessing, and the People of the Tides were renown for powerful water and lightening mages. But she knew the dangers that came with magic, and she had fought the Enchanters of the foreign imperials. Outwardly she smiled, but always inside she worried. Life went on.

It was the day she agreed to take them to the trading centre of Kanehsatake, in the southern frontiers of the Confederacy. She had left them in a tent, sleeping quietly against Kaghít, the family's loyal fellwolf, and gone to discuss the situation at the border when the latest of Tashar's crusades began in a burst of fire. Ships had crept up the river, violating the peace talks, disgorging men and flaming arrows into the town - the bridge connecting the eastern and western banks collapsed following a colossal magic spellburst, and Tla'a fought her way across the wreckage of ships and burning ruins to reach the other end of the settlement, her hunting eagle Kei’á butchering with her talons as she sent arrows sinking into the throats of the raiders.

She found Kaghít with an arrow in his shoulder, wrapped in blackened roots covered in magical glyphs. Freeing him with her knife, she ran onwards to where she'd pitched her tent, finding her warriors slain.

She followed their tracks - they were sloppy and easy to read, like most Tashar. She had placed two arrows in their skulls before they reacted, the three nearly catching the bushes she lurked in with a blast of fire - by the time she had dodged her way past his spells and thrown a hatchet into his chest, Kei’á's wing was burnt and the Enchanter mage was holding a knife to her sons throats.

Tla'a hesitated. He told her to lower her bow, and she complied - she knew a member of the Enchanter's Order when she saw one, and she knew the gleam of cruelty in a man's eye. She edged closer, looking both her sons in the eyes to reassure them as the mage taunted her with how her children would make fine Tasharen battlemages, as soon as they accepted the rule of the Emperor - but the then the two of them froze as the sound of the Eshonie reinforcements reached their ears. The man smiled the bitter smile of someone who knows he is about to die, and would gladly go to hell for a chance to spit in your face on the way out. Tla'a wouldn't forget the words. "Deny them to the enemy."

He turned the knife on his own throat and cracked as his body exploded in magical energy, throwing her to the ground before she could run to her sons.

When the Eshonie war party found them she was holding them both to her chest, cradling their heads in her arms.

When she returned to her clan, she spoke to no one. The hít s'aatí found her before she found him - the Master of the House, the elder who was entrusted with the care of the Clan's sacred relics and totems, of the greathouses that sheltered them, and her maternal greatuncle. The man took only one look at her face before beckoning her into the relic room, and entrusted her with two bundles. "One will keep your grief hidden from the eyes of the world," he said, "and the other will drink the blood of revenge in your hands. But I fear you will never slake your thirst. I will speak on your behalf. You may return to us... when you are ready."

She has not returned to her clan since. K'alyaan came looking for her, but she knew him too well, hid her tracks too well.

The Foresters know her simply as the Warden Captain. The Painted Armour. The Mother of Bitter Waters. The Tasharen names are far less sympathetic.

She came to Haden to kill as many of them as possible.

Fighting Style: Ranger
Abilities:

• Deadeye: a huntress par excellence of man and beast, Tla'a can weave an arrow through the slit of a man's helmet in a pitched maelstrom of combat as easily as she fells an elk without a sound in a silent winter wood. Knives and hatchets are no exception, and while many Eshonie make use of the tomahawk as a secondary weapon, they rarely use them at range outside of axe-throwing competitions off the field of war - Tla'a however has put her experience in this pass-time to good use, as the deadly and ancient pair of jawbone weapons known as Xeitlx'ás' are capable of magically returning the the wielder's hand after being throw across a battlefield with fatal precision.
• Warrior's Heart: an unbreakable rock in the storm of battle, Kaakaltin Tla'a has honed her body and mind over decades of training and warfare. She seeks no glory, only victory - though she has fought in ceremonial combat for the honour of clan and tribe, in the struggle of life and death she knows glory in defeat is fleeting, a tragic romanticized tale for destitute tavern-goers at best. Her skills are extensive, and her knowledge of Tasharen military tactics and hierarchy frighteningly well developed.
• Ranger Companions: A ranger's companions are often more intelligent and intuitive than other animals, and more than mere pets or tools. Some say they are almost humanlike in intelligence, and others speak of strange reflections. Whatever the case, Tla'a is accompanied by two fearsome creatures of the woods. They are among the few living things she is warm towards. Kaghít is a male fellwolf, a massive species of Eshonie canine commonly used in hunting and in war. He is well trained to fight alongside the Clan Mother of the Black Dogs - at a whistle or command he will crush a mage's hand to prevent them from casting spells or sink his teeth into a warrior's neck from behind, springing from his hidden hiding spot as Tla'a places a well aimed arrow in the unfortunate soul's neck. Kei’á is a Great Northern Eagle, and like Kaghít, was raised by Tla'a and her father from infancy. Her talons are wrapped in steel armour, and her eyesight even greater than Tla'as hawk-like gaze, but one of her greatest abilities is reconnaissance - trained to return to Tla'a and use a simple series of noise to convey information about a target, the eagle can tell her which direction her prey is heading, or the size of an armed band sneaking through the woods.

Limitations:

• Strange Lands: a woman far from the land she calls home, culture shock is not an uncommon affliction to those who travel far from the land of their birth. Tla'a is uncomfortable with or silently abhors certain practices of foreign nations, and she can only speak with the fundamentals of the common tongue beyond Eshonie languages. Additionally she doesn't work well with other nation's military units - she rarely follows orders she doesn't like, even when she understands them. And often pretends she doesn't.
• Callous: a trying and bitter life have left Tla'a with little time or interest in building relationships with strangers. She will gladly help those in need, but otherwise will be blunt and cold with most people, preferring solitude or the company of the few people who have somehow managed to earn her trust. Her heart is cold, and it is difficult to find a path to her warmth: one of the few ways is to appeal to her naturally motherly side, and she will often soften around younger adventurers in need of guidance.
• Shield of the Woods: Kulut'ruaq Ironwood is, in the end, wood - though resistant to fire it can still be ignited, especially by magical flame, and it is not as protective as heavy plate or Eruvien armour. Its main strength is that it allows the wearer to move easier, and for longer, avoiding heatstroke or fatigue on the march or on long journeys. Tla'a is stronger than many men, and she uses this athleticism in combination with her armour to avoid being wounded in a fight. But she knows she's a large target - and on an open battlefield or tundra, facing down too many enemies to dodge, she knows she's at a disadvantage.
• Cornered Dog: Knife and jawbone axe are excellent for close-quarters battle, but there remains a significant gap between Tla'a's range. Up close and personal or at range, she is a monster to face in combat - but her light armour and short reach does little to protect against spears, warhammers, longswords... she excels best at fights on her own terms, like a cornered, snarling dog or a whisper among the trees, but in mêlée in open areas is at a disadvantage.
• Vindictive: driven forward by anger and bitterness, Tla'a has abandoned her homeland and her happy memories to a cold life, seeking to find herself again in the path of blood. It would be an understatement to say she does not play well with those from Tashar. Anything that destroys the ambitions and prosperity of that warlike empire will attract her intent - she wouldn't stop short of anything less than permanently removing Tashar's ability to launch attacks on the Eshon Confederacy or the death of the Emperor himself. It would take a great deal of growth on her part and effort on the other's to tolerate a Tasharen, and untold endeavor to get her to abandon her revenge. Only time will tell if she will find a new path, or if it will consume her.

Equipment:

• Tla'a's Kulut'ruaq Bow: a masterfully made hunting bow that Tla'a's father gifted to her when she was a young women, which she has used to hunt both man and beast alike. It is her primary weapon as a Warden Captain, and she prefers to control the battlefield and fell her foes from a distance, striking from the trees in ambush or deadly games of cat and mouse.
• Kulut'ruaq Ironwood Armour: the armour of the Kulut'ruaq is as distinctive as it is effective, and suits itself to the versatile needs of its wearers. Its helmet and heavy neck-guard give superb protection to the head and vitals, and the cuirass and greaves are traditionally constructed from slats of ironwood over a pelt of moosehide, all fastened together with metal links and reinforced with runic magic. Unlike steel armour, ironwood allows the wearer to more easily move in water. Among the most popular form of decoration for this armour are gruesome, almost demonic faces, representing both the power of the wearer's forefathers and their ability to metaphorically devour the life of a man with their martial skill. As each is handcrafted for the wearer, their decorations too are unique - Kaakaltin Tla'a's armour bears a helmet adorned with elk antlers and a snarling stylized wolf's mouth, her breastplate and greaves decorated with ravens intertwined with roaring, beastly faces.
• Forearm Shield: A smaller version of the tináa style shield of the Kulut'ruaq, developed originally for heraldry and later adapted to use as a battlefield shield in a reverse of most other culture's practice. A smaller buckler-style one has been adapted for use by Rangers, allowing them to keep their hand free and block enemy attacks at the same time, at the expensive of overall defence. She carries it on her back, usually with her helmet and neck armour hanging on top, when not in battle.
• Tla'a's Kulut'ruaq Knife: the long knives of the Kulut'ruaq are fearsome weapons, closer in size to short-swords than most blades and finely crafted and skillfully used by their soldiers and hunters. Tla'a's knife was handed down to her by her uncle Stuwukháa, who instructed her in its use. It is worn in the traditional fashion, in a sheath hanging from her shoulders, next to her breast. While skilled with a bow, Tla'a's is nonetheless terrifying to fight in close quarters, and her knife is perhaps just as effective as the Xeitlx'ás' relic blades she uses when challenged head on.
• Clan Relic - Naaxein: a finely crafted naaxein cloak, of the kind worn ceremonially by high-ranking members of Kulut'ruaq society. As a clan relic it is masterless, owned by none and communally taken care of by a clan - within it is kept the spirits of those who came before, whose voices are said to guide those who live today. The one entrusted to Tla'a's care belonged to a greater huntress, and when wrapped around the wearer can hide them almost perfectly from sight, blending into the background with excellent camouflage. Tla'a keeps it wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf when in battle, to keep it out of the way.
• Clan Relic - Xeitlx'ás': a pair of ancient weapons of uncertain origin - even the venerable oral traditions of the Eshon tribes, stretching back with impeccable accuracy for thousands of years, has offered little clue to their hidden secrets. Known together as Xeitlx'ás', they are said to have been constructed from the jawbone of a great beast and together they form a pair of weapons that combine the form of the battleaxe and Kulut'ruaq warpick. They carry within them an enchantment that causes them to return to the user's hand upon command, allowing them to be throw in deadly arcs across battlefields and retrieved from great distance. They are worn at Tla'a's belt when not in use.

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: Bring Tashar to ruin.
Favorite Factions: Oadot's Chosen, Foresters.
Least Favorite Factions: Enchanter Order, Knights of Shotarr, Empire of Tashar.
Favorite Memory: Teaching her sons to hunt.
Goals: Survive. Recover something within herself that was lost.
Greatest Fear: Losing another loved one.
Religion: Ancestor veneration, Pantheon worship. Favours Datune, Oadot, and Shotarr.