Beyond Light's Reach (Fantasy, OOC, Open, Reboot)

[Sil Arion]

-snip-

Can do too! Thanks for the purification clarification and transformation recommendation. I'll have those edits done shortly!

[Tomia]

-snip-

Can do too! Thanks for the purification clarification and transformation recommendation. I'll have those edits done shortly!

Alright I think everything is in order now. Accepted!

[Sil Arion]

Alright I think everything is in order now. Accepted!

Thank you!!! I'll have a post up later today once I've some more free time!

[Ceystile]

Sorry I haven’t been posting lately guys, school has been kicking my butt.

[Tomia]

Sorry I haven’t been posting lately guys, school has been kicking my butt.

No worries, that's understandable

[Ceystile]

Ok guys...I gotta find some place to squeeze in (I was OPing another RP with my other nation so i've been busy)

[Tomia]

Ok guys...I gotta find some place to squeeze in (I was OPing another RP with my other nation so i've been busy)

No worries! The group is currently being attacked on route to Quentin's fortress by a large group of demons so it shouldn't be too difficult to fit your characters in

[Ceystile]

Thanks!

[Segral]

Name: Keagan Tolasthes
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Thalari (Thal'gol)
Appearance: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/57/fc/aa/57fcaaf4e6c1745455177d0f8fa3eb7e.jpg
Mage?: Yes. Specifically, an alchemist.

Bio:

Much of Keagan's early life was covered in his brother Krook's bio, which you can find here. For now, we'll focus on what transpired after Keagan's fateful flight, his eighteenth birthday, and the day his life changed forever.

After days of travel on foot, Keagan, armed with nothing but a small sack of potions, ran into a group of sar'ena'thal Jam'el, or camelfolk bedouins in the Gules Desert. These nomads were travelling merchants who hopped from one small Thalari settlement to the next, selling intricate glass ornaments, dishware, charms, and other artifacts, combining honed fire magic with the wide abundance of sand in the Gules to create the massive amount of glass required. While they were initially fearful of the large, hulking crocodile man before them, they soon took him in after he proved his talent (and potential) for alchemy. Potions were often used to further treat and color the glass used in the nomads' artifacts, and their current alchemist, a man by the name of Damoud, was growing old and tired, unable to keep up with the busy travel schedule and magical demands of his tribe. Thankfully, Damoud now had a bright-eyed, eager student, the perfect receptacle for all of the knowledge and wisdom that he had acquired over the years.

Keagan spent a total of one year with the clan, learning alchemy from Damoud for one half and spending the other half as the group's alchemist following Damoud's untimely death from the fever. He brewed potions that would grant the tribe more energy and stamina while plodding through the desert, laid circles of repellents to keep hungry animals (and eventually, bandits) away from the group's caravans, and creating dyes and soaks to create extra polish, shine, and hue on every last glass trinket. He helped sell the trinkets in the market, and spent his free time both writing letters home to his brother, and honing his own craft, learning new recipes and practices by the day. So why did it only last one, small, inconsequential year?

Boredom, why else?

Keagan was booooored, bored of mixing simple draughts, bored of selling trinkets, and starting to grow tired of learning new recipes too. He desired his own life, his own path, nobody to tell him what to make, what to sell, and where to go. Damoud, rest his soul, had taught him well, had passed down enough knowledge and expertise for Keagan to be able to brew a maelstrom of different potions, which he had begun selling behind the backs of his tribe while passing through local markets. He had money, he had knowledge, he had wit, what else did he need? Courage, he needed the courage to flee, and on one fateful night, he found that courage. He snuck out of the tribe's campsite under the cover of nightfall, ran on foot to the nearest village, traded his coins for the biggest donkey he could afford, and galloped away into the night, headed towards Antora's capital city. He never stopped once, not even when he accidentally killed his donkey after pushing it for thirty-two hours straight. Eventually, his hard work paid off; after thirty days and thirty nights of long, hot, exhausting travel, he finally arrived at his destination. Argrand, in all of its lush, sprawling beauty laid before him, and he was hell-bent on making his time spent worthwhile.

After drifting between a few menial contracts and jobs for some time, he saved up enough money to open his own apothecary, selling alchemy-enhanced draughts and potions for everything from poor sleep to the runs. It was a fairly successful enterprise, given the severe scarcity of proper mages among Antora's borders, but there were even more lucrative trades to be found in more...unsavory markets. It started with one member of Faenar's Faithful, looking for a poison to lace his knives with and willing to pay any price for it. Keagan brewed up a batch for him, slipped the money into his purse, and sent him on his way. The next day, three more Faithful members came floating along, and then five, and then ten, and twenty, and thirty, and many, many more. Soon, the Street Crawlers came to him as well, looking for their own dangerous draughts. In a city where selling any sort of poison was illegal, punishable with lashings in the public square, being an alchemist in the black market was a unique position, one that allowed Keagan to fetch exorbitant prices for his services. He began to make friends in his sales, secure regular orders, learn the ins-and-outs of the back alley, and it was all splendid, simply splendid indeed.

That is, until his two customer bases turned on one another. Faenar's Faithful are an unpredictable bunch, capable of cutting the throats of both rich aristocrats and back-alley sleazes, the latter of whom was a frequent customer of Keagan's. On one fateful day, the Faithful attacked the home of a powerful local Street Crawler, and found shipping records from Keagan's apothecary. Needless to say, they were not pleased, as evidenced when they marched into his store, barricaded the front door, strung him up from the ceiling by his ankles, and threatened to slit his throat from ear to ear. He eventually persuaded them to spare his life in exchange for his store's building, his gold, and his inventory, and when they unstrung him from the ceiling, he gave them his store's building, all of the gold that wasn't hidden underneath the trap-door in the back of his store, and every potion in his inventory that wasn't hidden in his attic. Still, nobody confronted him on the issue, aside from one brave soul who got his throat slit from ear to ear by Keagan while on his way to the stables. Stables, because he needed a horse to get out of the damn city. His reputation and name were tarnished in Argrand, and besides, the city was too pure and noble, full of too many big-hearted people with no interest in his high-selling wares. He needed to find a city overrun with criminals, teeming with illegal trade, where foolish and egotistical warriors often traveled to keep the peace.

And that city was Southrun.

After traversing leagues and leagues of Eboris, mostly on foot thanks to him accidentally killing his horse by pushing it for forty-five hours straight, he made it to Southrun, a city full of termites, leeches, and opportunity. In this city, his day-job as a humble apothecary owner was slightly less interesting, filled with many empty hours of sitting tiredly at his counter, but his night-job was twice as exciting, a time full of back-door customers with back-door intentions. His contacts from Argrand had come in great use, allowing him to retain his old customers in the Crawlers and Faenar's Faithful, and gain some additional ones on the side. He continued to sell increasingly complex poisons, in addition to special-made condition-enhancing potions, which he had begun developing after happening to stumble upon some dusty old books on the matter in Southrun's dilapidated library. While these potions were rarer, more difficult to make, and more expensive, they fetched even more customers, ranging from his current customers, to Order of Evrouin members who needed to appear more flashy on the battlefield, to Bank of Ashar representatives who were "interested" in acting as a middle-man between Keagan and "interested" criminal organizations, to even common men who needed to impress a lady. With all of the profit he was collecting from his sales, he was able to embark on a second career as a loan shark, giving out loans to any man or woman in need, but collecting more than just interest if the money wasn't paid back. Of course, he rarely did the dirty work himself; if payment was overdue on an order, or the promised contacts hadn't shown their faces, Keagan had men at his disposal to intimidate any brave soul, and if they were braver than that, he knew how to use his claws and teeth to leave a burning reminder behind.

One of these brave souls was Baron James Southrun, the son of the infamous Earl of Southrun. He had sent his butler with a piece of his own eyelash to acquire a love potion, one that he could use to increase his own attractiveness and woo the daughter of a rich aristocrat that he was fancying. It took Keagan eight nights to create the draught, but after seventeen failed attempts, he was successful at last. His excitement was great, so great that he immediately mailed the potion to the Baron's manor, along with a note that requested 300 Ducats in compensation for his inventory costs. The 300 Ducats never came, even after the girl had been successfully wooed, charmed and pushed right into bed! It was a gross betrayal of trust and contract, especially from a man of such great wealth. So, Keagan decided to take matters into his own hands, and send two local hooligans to "rough up" the young Baron before his wedding night. He had expected that they would tear a shirt, let the Baron sport a bloody nose, maybe break a finger or two.

He had not expected them to slit the Baron's Achilles tendons, cut out his tongue, and throw him head-first down a steep flight of stone steps after catching him drunkenly stumbling through the streets, a full three hours after his wedding. As one can imagine, he did not survive the fall, and the public awoke one morning to find the Earl's beloved son lying with a broken neck inside a gutter, the rats eating his face and his fingers, which had been plucked bare after one of the hired men pocketed his wedding ring. Needless to say, there was an outcry, with half of the factions in Southrun going on a fervent manhunt to find the perpetrators, and the man who had hired them. They never did find the hired men (Keagan had taken care of them after the incident), but after a close contact blabbered, they found Keagan. A group of Repentant town guards busted into his spacious mansion in Southrun, dragging him out with a sword to his neck and keeping the blade there until they reached Southrun's overflowing prison. He was charged with crimes of poison-dealing, murder, forging documents, and theft of the Baron's wedding ring, and was sentenced to be hung, drawn and quartered in the city square the following day.

However, Keagan was to live to see another day. One of his more faithful business partners managed to infiltrate the prison and deliver both a dagger and an incomplete shapeshifting potion, missing just a piece of human to the jailed Thalari, who was living in solitary confinement in order to avoid inciting a riot. A blessing in disguise. As the guard came to deliver Keagan's supposed last meal before death, the Tyr'el was able to slash his throat while his back was turned, hacking off a few chunks of hair before hiding the body underneath a bedsheet. He scraped off his own scales, mixed the potion together, and drank it in a single gulp, transforming into the guard he had just slain.

With his new face, he was able to slip out of the prison before his body was found, making a break for the nearest stable before fleeing once again. The horse only lasted twenty-eight hours this time, but Keagan kept running, long after the war horns had faded and the search parties' hooves had echoed away. Now, he roams Eboris as a free man, his mind only set on two things: revenge, and the sweet, sweet money that he craves for so deeply.

Fighting Style: Alchemist

Abilities:

• Tyr'el Heritage: Keagan is a Tyr'el, which roughly translates to "crocodile-folk". As a result, he has inherited many of the benefits of his heritage, including enhanced strength, endurance, instincts, sight, hearing, and smell. He is equipped with a powerful jaw that can bite down with over 4000 pounds per square inch in modern units, as well as several sharp claws for slashing. In addition, thanks to his powerful, muscular tail and streamlined body, Keagan is an excellent swimmer, even faster than his twin brother, able to easily top speeds of twenty modern miles per hour at top speed.
  
  
• Master of the Poison: Over the course of his studies as an alchemist, Keagan has become a master of mixing, brewing, and enchanting deadly poisons with a variety of effects. Need a poison for slow, painful torture? He can make it. Need a quick mixture that leaves no trace behind to spike a royal's drink with? He can make it. Need a poison that doesn't kill, but instead blinds or deafens? He can make it...for a price. These poisons are usually made in liquid form, but he has been known to collect the fumes and gases created during treatment for use as airborne toxins.
  
  
• Condition-Enhancing Potions: Strength he giveth, and strength he may taketh away. After mastering his poison-making craft, Keagan began to diversify his skill-set by developing potions that contain the ability to enhance the bodies and minds of the consumer. For a small fee, Keagan can create a potion to increase your strength, enhance your eyesight, grant you heightened reflexes, increase your stamina levels, and even temporarily transform/shapeshift your entire body. He achieves this by incorporating a sample of the customer's body (such as a lock of hair, a fingernail, a tooth, etc.) into the potion while preparing it, this tailor-making a potion for one particular person. If anybody else drinks the mixture, there will be little to no effect (and sometimes a harmful effect), but if the sampled customer drinks it, they will receive the desired bodily benefits.
  
  
• Vagabond: Keagan has never been a fighter, but he has armed himself with a poison-tipped dagger, silver tongue, and a complete disregard for honor and creed, doing whatever it takes to make the sale. His years of running throughout the criminal underbelly of Eboris have given him an expert knowledge of how to sneak, stab and talk his way out of any situation, as well as plethora of contacts with owed favors that he can rely on for help in a pinch. He's not afraid to fight dirty and underhanded, and he has never been one to shy away from betraying or manipulating others to get what he wants, which is fairly easy, given his smooth talking and exceptional ability to gather blackmail.

Limitations:

• Inner Limitations: Much like his brother Krook, Keagan is not one for brutal or gory violence, although for a much less...noble intention. He believes that he is above such "barbarian" activity, and prefers to use his poisons, and maybe his dagger to take down a foe instead of his claws and jaws. To him, shredding an enemy with his teeth and talons is an act that should be reserved for very specific occasions, and when done in a careless, wanton manner, leads to bodily traces that could bring even larger enemies back on his trail.
  
  
• Poison's (Limited) Touch: While the prior weakness wouldn't usually be so crippling, it is important to note that Keagan's weapon of choice is very limited in its effectiveness in certain situations. Poisons are great and all, but in order for them to be effective, one must ingest or absorb them in some way, and if you've ever tried to chuck a bottle of liquid in the middle of the battle, you would know that throwing poison into a warrior's open mouth or exposed wound is...difficult, to say the least. The fumes he collects are much easier to affect a target with, but if he releases those toxic gases, he runs the risk of poisoning his allies and companions, in addition to himself.
  
  
• Temporary Effects: Keagan's condition-enhancing potions are only temporary in their effects, depending on how much of the potion is consumed. For example, drinking a whole jar of the strength-enhancing potion may give you one hour's worth of increased muscle, while drinking a small vial of it may grant you just a few minutes. Containers are priced accordingly.
  
  
• The Human Ingredient: As mentioned previously, in order for a condition-enhancing potion to take effect, Keagan requires a sample of the body, whether that be hair, teeth, skin, or something else. Shapeshifting potions require even more than that, requiring samples from both the consumer and the body the consumer intends to transform into. If he wants to brew a potion for himself, all he needs to do is scrape a few scales off of his body, but if he wants to create potions for someone else, he requires a piece of their body, which can occasionally be difficult to obtain. Drinking a potion that hasn't been tailor-made for one specific person can have a range of adverse side-effects. Sometimes, it will do absolutely nothing. Sometimes, it will grant the enhanced condition, but in a weak, limited capacity. Sometimes, it will be harmful or even fatal.

Equipment:

• Dagger: A thin, silver dagger, capable of slipping through a pair of ribs in one second and clashing with a broadsword in the next. The dagger is usually laced with a fast-acting paralytic poison that ensures that even if the stab wound doesn't kill a foe, the eventual suffocation from full-body paralysis eventually will.
  
  
• Alchemist's Arsenal: What potioneer would be complete without his potions? Keagan carries a large satchel containing a wide variety of poisons, several spare vials and bottles, a small collapsible cauldron, and a collection of gratium, wraithstone, knotgrass, bloodcaps, and other core ingredients that are essentials for any alchemist.

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: To take revenge on the informants that sold him out to the town guards in Southrun.

Favorite Factions: The Bank of Ashar, The Street Crawlers, The Merry Men of the Vine, The Order of the Fading Butterfly (he respects them more than he loves or cares for them), The Order of Evrouin

Least Favorite Factions: The Wanderers, The Foresters, The Magi Consortium, The Repentant, The Honor Guild
Favorite Memory: When his apothecary made its first sale.

Goals: Currently, he is on the run from both enemies and Hurelan authorities, and hopes to outrun them until he is a free man. After that, he hopes to get started on re-establishing his apothecary.

Greatest Fear: Imprisonment (again). Better to die on one's feet than live on one's knees.

Religion: N/A, former follower of the Thalai.

[New Finnish Republic]

Secretly tosses in tag without the Tiger noticing

[Ceystile]

Guys...I’m so sorry. I’ve been so caught up in real life shit that I haven’t had time to post, I’ve tried to make time but...I think I may have to officially drop out.

[The Republic of Atria]

Name: Peter Russ
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Normal
Considerably less normal
Mage?: Nah
Bio: Peter was born to a very poor family. So poor in fact, that he was sold at a young age to a group of wizards who more than happy to experiment on him. Though he was treated better with them than he was by his own family, even as they tested all manners of concoctions on him. He was relatively well fed, even if he occasionally grew lots of extra hair, new teeth and various other things that ranged from good to bad. However, as he got older, and his body more resistant to their magic and experiments, they suddenly decided to try something new. Instead of being reasonably kind and vaguely parental, they became cold, distant, and their experiments increased in intensity. Whatever they were trying to achieve, it wasn't yet working.

Peter wasn't sure how long he was stuck there, forced to drink and suffer through whatever magic they wanted to pump him full of, however, he remembered the day it all ended. He had enough of their foul treatment and resisted, only for them to blast him with magic which triggered something unholy. He grew many times his normal size, covered in hair that coursed with the magical energy they pumped him full of. What few moments of celebration they got were cut short, literally and figuratively, by Peter. It was the first blood he'd ever spilled. It didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. They deserved it. So he left their little hovel and into the world at large, his first taste of freedom.

He wandered for years. At first, he viewed his condition as a curse. Though after it triggered the second time, allowing him to kill several highwaymen who wanted with little money he had. Then he began to see it as his blessing. Some sort of twisted reward for all of the crap life had thrown his way. It kept him safe. It was his own unique quirk. Something that let him go through his life without having to worry about his safety. Maybe he could settle down and try to get a job. He had no skills outside of being able to do simple manual labor, which didn't pay that well, but it was enough for him to have some food and shelter. Though one day, he had quite a bit of work to do and felt like moving several huge boulders would best be accomplished by a large beast. So he used a small knife to cut his hand and trigger the Beast.

Despite only using it to accomplish a simple task, he was quickly chased out of town by the guards due to the horrified citizens. This annoyed him. He wasn't hurting anyone and had no intentions of doing so. So he continued his travels around the world of Eboris. Begging for coin to buy some bread and find a place to sleep for the night. This was his life and he quickly began to enjoy the traveling and excitement. He never felt like he was in any real physical danger, so he felt no shame in begging in weird spots or scaring the hell out of people for a few coins. Using the Beast to do so usually wound up forcing him to leave lest he be forced hurt people just doing their jobs. It usually paid well enough to support him for travel to another city.

During his more recent travels, he began to hear rumors of demons. Supposedly a group managed to fight them off, but he dismissed it. At least until he heard that, supposedly, the group that fought them was in Gradel, the very same city he was currently begging in. Nothing would probably come of it, but he figured he could at least find a group of weird strangers to scare out of some coin.
Fighting Style: Warrior
Abilities:

• [Unleash the Beast]: When physically injured, Peter will transform into his far larger and more powerful beast form. While transformed, his strength is increased immensely, he gains large, long, razor sharp claws on his hands and feet. His wounds also heal frighteningly fast while transformed.
• [Magic Resistance]: Peter's body is surprisingly resistant, albeit not immune, to the effects of magic.

Limitations:

• Exhaustion: The beast doesn't stay around forever and Peter will revert back to normal once the threat has been neutralized. Once reverted, Peter will, at best, be very tried, and at worse, pass out.
• Control: Peter is almost in full control of the beast. However, if harmed while sleeping or otherwise unconscious, the beast will act like a particularly hungry and angry wolf.
• Activation: The beast only awakens if Peter is physically harmed, restraining him or otherwise preventing him from harming himself will prevent that.

Equipment:

• [Bloodstained Clothes]: Not much more to it than that.
• [Small Bag]: There's a crude bedroll with a blanket in it and a few coins for food.
• [Small Dagger]: For triggering the Beast on his own.

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: To find a way to stay as the Beast forever.
Favorite Factions: Street Crawlers, the Repentant
Least Favorite Factions: Any faction considered rich and snooty.
Favorite Memory: Eviscerating a group of bandits and taking their stuff
Goals: Survive. Eat a demon. Have some fun.
Greatest Fear: Losing the Beast
Religion: N/A

[Tomia]

Name: Peter Russ
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Normal
Considerably less normal
Mage?: Nah
Bio: Peter was born to a very poor family. So poor in fact, that he was sold at a young age to a group of wizards who more than happy to experiment on him. Though he was treated better with them than he was by his own family, even as they tested all manners of concoctions on him. He was relatively well fed, even if he occasionally grew lots of extra hair, new teeth and various other things that ranged from good to bad. However, as he got older, and his body more resistant to their magic and experiments, they suddenly decided to try something new. Instead of being reasonably kind and vaguely parental, they became cold, distant, and their experiments increased in intensity. Whatever they were trying to achieve, it wasn't yet working.

Peter wasn't sure how long he was stuck there, forced to drink and suffer through whatever magic they wanted to pump him full of, however, he remembered the day it all ended. He had enough of their foul treatment and resisted, only for them to blast him with magic which triggered something unholy. He grew many times his normal size, covered in hair that coursed with the magical energy they pumped him full of. What few moments of celebration they got were cut short, literally and figuratively, by Peter. It was the first blood he'd ever spilled. It didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. They deserved it. So he left their little hovel and into the world at large, his first taste of freedom.

He wandered for years. At first, he viewed his condition as a curse. Though after it triggered the second time, allowing him to kill several highwaymen who wanted with little money he had. Then he began to see it as his blessing. Some sort of twisted reward for all of the crap life had thrown his way. It kept him safe. It was his own unique quirk. Something that let him go through his life without having to worry about his safety. Maybe he could settle down and try to get a job. He had no skills outside of being able to do simple manual labor, which didn't pay that well, but it was enough for him to have some food and shelter. Though one day, he had quite a bit of work to do and felt like moving several huge boulders would best be accomplished by a large beast. So he used a small knife to cut his hand and trigger the Beast.

Despite only using it to accomplish a simple task, he was quickly chased out of town by the guards due to the horrified citizens. This annoyed him. He wasn't hurting anyone and had no intentions of doing so. So he continued his travels around the world of Eboris. Begging for coin to buy some bread and find a place to sleep for the night. This was his life and he quickly began to enjoy the traveling and excitement. He never felt like he was in any real physical danger, so he felt no shame in begging in weird spots or scaring the hell out of people for a few coins. Using the Beast to do so usually wound up forcing him to leave lest he be forced hurt people just doing their jobs. It usually paid well enough to support him for travel to another city.

During his more recent travels, he began to hear rumors of demons. Supposedly a group managed to fight them off, but he dismissed it. At least until he heard that, supposedly, the group that fought them was in Gradel, the very same city he was currently begging in. Nothing would probably come of it, but he figured he could at least find a group of weird strangers to scare out of some coin.
Fighting Style: Warrior
Abilities:

• [Unleash the Beast]: When physically injured, Peter will transform into his far larger and more powerful beast form. While transformed, his strength is increased immensely, he gains large, long, razor sharp claws on his hands and feet. His wounds also heal frighteningly fast while transformed.
• [Magic Resistance]: Peter's body is surprisingly resistant, albeit not immune, to the effects of magic.

Limitations:

• Exhaustion: The beast doesn't stay around forever and Peter will revert back to normal once the threat has been neutralized. Once reverted, Peter will, at best, be very tried, and at worse, pass out.
• Control: Peter is almost in full control of the beast. However, if harmed while sleeping or otherwise unconscious, the beast will act like a particularly hungry and angry wolf.
• Activation: The beast only awakens if Peter is physically harmed, restraining him or otherwise preventing him from harming himself will prevent that.

Equipment:

• [Bloodstained Clothes]: Not much more to it than that.
• [Small Bag]: There's a crude bedroll with a blanket in it and a few coins for food.
• [Small Dagger]: For triggering the Beast on his own.

Optional Questionnaire
Personal Quest: To find a way to stay as the Beast forever.
Favorite Factions: Street Crawlers, the Repentant
Least Favorite Factions: Any faction considered rich and snooty.
Favorite Memory: Eviscerating a group of bandits and taking their stuff
Goals: Survive. Eat a demon. Have some fun.
Greatest Fear: Losing the Beast
Religion: N/A

Accepted!