ARGENT - [Character Thread]

Jakers · Jul 25, 2016

A R G E N T
III XI I X VI. IV III I X IV II.

OOC Thread | IC Thread

IMPORTANT NPC'S

These are brief CS's for character created by me you might've met on the journey. They won't be in as much detail, but fundementals, such as their appearance, ranking, race, etc. will be put down. They're just here as a reminder that they exist, and might be important later to some missions/the story itself.

[NONE SO FAR]

ERode · Jul 25, 2016

"Here comes the BOOM!"
Elodie Maya
19/Female/5'3
The Binnes

Personality
Driven, intelligent, and open-minded, Elodie is a sharp-minded individual who, despite her environment, refuses to give up on her ideals and dreams. Meticulous, years spent on experiments and adjustments have given her a habit of speaking out random measurements or amounts aloud, and everything she does seems to be a race against a deadline, even when there is no reason for her to rush. For her, what's important in war isn't morale or valor, but logistics, and she loves to drown herself in facts. To Elodie, information isn't merely a tool, but it is also candy, something sweet that sounds beautiful when it rolls out of her tongue. Enthusiastic to the point of being occasionally stifling, she's definitely a chatty person, with a particular liking towards word play. The little scientist girl doesn't really care about feelings or romance or whatever else, not when there's things to be learned and facts to share.

For all her communication, documentation, and decision-making skills, however, Elodie is also a truly honest person. As someone who prefers the naked truth, she finds etiquette and tact to be wastes of time. Bald-faced criticism may hurt, obviously, but it's also way easier to improve. If simple machines can make it obvious when you messed up during construction, then surely humans should be the same way, right? Maybe it's arrogance on her part, and maybe she's made her fair amount of enemies with such a viewpoint, but, as always, Elodie simply doesn't care.

Her end goal is too grand, and her life is too short. Taking social detours is pointless.

Relations
WIP

Biography
Daughter of a widower, Elodie Maya's childhood was one spent in her father's laboratory in the Binnes. An inventor and a handyman, Garm took the task of raising up his child in his own hands and homeschooled her, teaching her to both appreciate the world and to question it. Sucked in by his fascination of science and of creating things with merely knowledge and his own hands, Elodie saw her father as a hero, something that the rest of the world didn't share. In a place like the Binnes, where plenty were talented with swordplay or gifted with power of Rewrite, few actually cared about what Garm made.

A sword made of a lighter alloy? Just rewrite a better one instead of spending six months.

A portable lever that made for more efficient methods of hoisting up heavy objects? Just rewrite it to become lighter.

A combination of chemicals that created a powerful explosive reaction? Just rewrite an explosion.

In a city where magic existed in abundance, tools that helped those without talents were simply…pointless. And yet, regardless of how he was ostracized, Garm's determination never wavered, and Elodie swallowed her hatred of Rewriters in order to follow his path. She had few friends, but she didn't care. Her father's notes, the books in her personal library, those were all she needed. Even as the neighbors talked about how he selfishly squandered his family's fortune, even as nobles joked about how Garm must have been Meadow-born in regards to how his inventions would only benefit the dim-witted weaklings of that backwater pig pen, Elodie didn't care.

She found out at a very early age that friends didn't matter if one had passion.

When the XII Final War broke out, Garm suddenly became much more popular. Though mocked within the Binnes, he was offered a job underneath Abbelest's War Technology Division. They have took note of the explosive reactions Garm has created, and wished to weaponize it, giving them a proper answer to the destructive rewritions of Kelda's mages. It was a job opportunity that Garm couldn't let slip, and soon, the father and the daughter moved to the capital of Abbelest, joining a team of other smart individuals and getting to work.

Years passed by in that relatively safe environment, and soon, results were showing up. Bombs that could be slung by trebuchets and wreck fiery havoc or explosive ruin. Siege weapons designed to force open gates instead of simply smash them. And soon, prototypes of firearms began to show up within certain regiments of Abbelest's army. With a thunderous salvo, they would tear the very wings off Keldan knights, sending the magic-reliant fools plummeting unto the ground. Though still in developmental phases, it looked like the Final War was swinging in Abbelest's favor.

Then, at night, Garm was assassinated, throat slit in his bedroom.

The guards were found dozing, drugged by a powerful soporific poison.

And, like that, the breakthrough Lady Celessa expected never happened. The War Technology Division, without a project leader, soon crumbled and was disbanded. Elodie, without even a father, found herself swept out of the castle, clutching her father's notes, boiling with hatred at the fact that she couldn't even figure out who her father's killer was. A slit throat? Literally anyone could have done that.

The next years went by in a breeze. She left Abbelest during the riots against Lady Celessa's rule, and floated from city to city alone, narrowly escaping the clutches of highwaymen and bandits many times over. Eventually, Elodie settled in the Meadows, sitting the war out, hoping that there would be order restored soon, so she could have a clear space to figure out what to do with her father's notes, her inheritance, and her life.

But order wasn't restored, and it only became worst.

Abbelest and Kelda were both in ruins, corruption taking over and rotting away at the structure of the world. Bandits became more and more frequent, ensuring that nowhere was safe. Everyone was out to fend for themselves, seeking salvation one way or the other. She almost crumbled underneath that pressure, almost decided that it would be better off just to jump off a cliff, but she didn't

She recalled her father's drive, her father's determination, her father's passion.

And she inherited that.

A monster-slaying weapon that even a child could use. That was what she would aspire towards. That was what would revolutionize the world.

And when Argent, ran by the King that must have ordered her father's assassination, held out a hand towards the daughter of Garm Maya, Elodie put aside her meaningless, self-destructive emotions and accepted.

Profession
Tinkerer
Elodie is a tinkerer, someone who improves her abilities through science rather than magic. Wielding the latest prototype of the firearm that her father had died producing, she dubs it 'Thundercrack', for the roar it makes whenever she pulls the trigger. Each singular bullet is pointed, and the awesome recoil of the weapon requires her to wear special equipment underneath in order to absorb the shock and prevent her from dropping it, while gloves give her enough grip to hold onto her weapon even if it's slick with water or mud or whatever other annoying environmental factor. Elodie has approached her physical training in much the same way, creating a variety of weight resistance machines that tones her body much more effectively than simple logs would. She may not be the strongest, or the fastest, or the most durable, but she is getting there, and she is getting there quickly.

Right now, she's also in the drafting stages of a spring-loaded piledriver, to assist with melee combat or with breaching fortified doors.

Signature Moves
Two Birds, One Stone
It's really just the application of simple geometry, combined with the absurd destructive power of Thundercrack. With one bullet, Elodie can take down multiple targets, regardless of whether or not they're armored.

Thunderhammer
Also not much of a signature move, Thunderhammer just takes full advantage of the heavy materials and heft of the gunstock in order to convert a long-ranged weapon into a bludgeoning weapon. Can't do that with a flimsy-ass bow, can you? Of course, Elodie has been looking at affixing some sort of pointed object onto the front end of Thundercrack as well, but those plans are secondary to improving reload time for her weapon.

Skills
Weapon Maintenance
Steady Hands
Learning
Chemistry
Tinkering

Weaknesses
Weakling
Single Shot
Socially Apathetic
Emotionally Repressed

DustBunny · Jul 25, 2016

Name:
Ash Dalnar

Age/Gender/Height:
18/Male/5'7"

Province:
Drokk

---
Appearance:
Ash stands at an average height of 5'7". His hair is dark black and his skin is almost sickly in color, like most other denizens of Drokk. His eyes, however, contrast his dark hair with a bright and shiny sky blue. Physically, he has almost no sign of muscle, but he doesn't look just like skin and bones. His jawline is soft and his cheekbones are high, complimenting his lithe and slightly feminine appearance.

Personality:
Ash is very quiet at first. He's incredibly shy and socially awkward, so he will never be the first to start a conversation. Despite these initial setbacks, he's always open to help people in trouble. He's very nice and polite when he does speak, and will never be one to initiate conflict if it's unneeded.

Relations:
Shall be Added/Deleted depending on other PCs

---

Biography: Ash was born and raised in Drokk, deep underground and completely ignorant of anything and everything going on above the ground. He lived his young years as happily as could be expected from a child living underground with few friends in a pretty barren community. He was never very outgoing, so he would just play by himself or walk around until he got lost and then got himself unlost. Since his father had the ability of Gravity Rewrition, Ash had inherited it himself at birth. This was his life before and during the XII Final War. As most other residents of Drokk, he really hadn't paid much attention to what was going on in the war since it wasn't directly affecting him or anyone from his city. That is, until the war was over and the spread of the corruption began. For the first month after the war ended, he and his family were safe in their current living arrangement. Then, as they tried to stay for as long as they could before evacuating like most everyone else, their area was besieged by the corruption. In the escape, both of Ash's parents were lost and he barely made it out to the upper world alive. Ash stumbled along in a random direction, blinded by light and pain and followed the road as much as he possibly could and made it luckily to a small settlement. Thankfully, he was nursed back to health there and he then decided to help as many people as he could so that they wouldn't have to go through what he did. After taking an extended amount of time to try to get used to the sunlight at least mildly, he then began to travel around by himself, helping whoever with whatever they needed. From his small trail of mercenary work, he apparently had made quite a name for himself in some of the smaller settlements and eventually came into possession of a note to join Argent, which he hastily accepted and made his way to the camp following the directions closely, anxious to help as many people as he can.

---

Profession:
Gravity Rewriter
(Rewriter's Finger injected on the inside of each elbow)

Profession Details: Ash has the ability to change the effects of gravity on himself, an object/person or area. He can increase gravity in a designated area or on an object/person to render them immobile, decrease the gravity to render them helplessly suspended in the air, or change the flow of gravity to keep people/attacks away from himself. He can also change his personal gravity for defensive purposes. He can decrease his gravity to become more mobile, increase his gravity to make himself immovable or change the way gravity affects him to help him get around an area/enemy.

---

Skills:
Cooking
First-aid
Can see well in the dark

Weaknesses:
Weak
Very sensitive to large amounts of light
Easily fatigued

chaosheart13 · Jul 25, 2016

Name: Sam Valcun

Age/Gender/Height: 27/Male/5'11"

Province: Meadow

---

Appearance: Sam's skin is a bit darker than most of his people's, having it be as dark of a shade of brown as his eyes. His black hair is untidy and a part of it covers his face, namely the right eye. Said eyes are a bit far apart and are big and constantly wide-eyed. He has an upturned nose and a small mouth that can be surprisingly wide when he grins. He has a lot of muscles from working in the field and doesn't realize not everyone are as strong as him. He wears simple clothing, a white cotton shirt, a wool sweater with wavy blue patterns over it when it gets cold, and sandy colored linen pants. If he needs to protect himself, he wears leather armor. Underneath all that are his undergarments, which are a light brown color. As for shoes, he wears worn out leather boots.

Personality: For someone with enough strength to lift seven full bags of flour, he's not much of a brute. Rather, he's a quiet type and tends to listen more than he speaks. He sort of fits the stereotype of Meadow people being kind and honest, especially the honest bit. But he's not the type to approach people, even if he needed something. He can work solo just fine and usually waits for others to approach him to talk. Truthfully, he's a bit easy to take advantage of when it comes to helping others, though he'll shy away from things that go against his morals, like cheating in a card game or slandering someone.

---

Biography: Sam was born to two loving parents, Echo and Marvin. He was taught how to work at an early age, helping his parents out with chores. When he got a little older, he began helping his parents with the animals. About a year later, he was taught how to tend to the crops.

Sam felt like there was something in him that rose whenever he was near plants, some alien feeling that wanted to be let loose. He told his parents about the feeling, who took him to the elders to discuss these feelings. One of them, who knew magic, tested him by giving him a Rewriter's Finger that was inserted into his left hand, deep into the palm. From there he was led to a tree and told him to try something that the feeling told him. To his dismay, nothing happened, though there did seem to be a creaking groan coming from it. So they tried with something smaller, a bush. Sam, not used to magic, quickly dropped his hand when the bush began to sway and come towards him. His parents were told of the power he possessed and all agreed to use it for the benefit of Meadow. He later learned that the magic came from his father's side of the family, but they either effectively hid their nature or it became lost with time.

Sam became a known celebrity at that point. He was one of the very few who possessed magic and he found the popularity…quite overwhelming. When he wasn't out working in the fields or being surrounded by people that fawned over him, he was off practicing his magic to protect the people of Meadow. He learned early on that he could manipulate the crops they grew to move and nothing else. Truthfully, he hoped to make Meadow a better place by making sure the crops would have a bountiful harvest, but he found he couldn't revive a dead or broken plant. So he turned to making sure there were wolves or bandits about. He practiced tripping up wolves with his power whenever a pack was too near the sheep for comfort and began to learn how to uproot even trees from the ground with his power.

Life treated Sam well, for the most part. He was far away from the XII Final War that raged on between the two major cities and believed that the conflict had nothing to do with him. It did, until strange creatures began appearing in Abblest and were moving on to other places. Here was where his magic was tested. He was trained to fight off anyone that came within the coming months using the simple weapons they had and the magic he possessed. However, he wasn't able to completely fight off all the bandits and many people of the Meadow fled as things got worse. And for him, it got worse when he couldn't protect his parents from a bandit attack and were slain in the ensuing chaos. Filled with grief, he followed the bandit's tracks until he found him snoozing against a tree. He immediately stabbed the man in the heart with a knife he brought with him for that occasion. Even though the bandit was bleeding out, the two of them fought until he used the roots to trip him up and then used sharpened sticks to pierce the man's body in several areas. Once he realized what he had done, he could only kneel and sob.

After the death of his parents, he continued to protect the Meadow until a messenger came to him one day with a letter from the king of Kelda, saying he was creating a paradise where there was no crime or corruption. The thought of there being no crime was what made him head to Argent in the first place, so that he can make sure that no bandits would harm anyone ever again.

---

Profession: Plant Rewriter

Profession Details: Sam can control plants to move at his whim, including trees. Though moving anything larger and thicker than him from one place to another wears him out faster.

Signature Moves: Uprooting- he can uproot a plant and send it flying at someone, having the roots constrict their neck or render them unable to see as the plant lands smack on the face roots down.
Trip- He uses the roots and the plants themselves to snag and trip up his opponent.
Sharp pointy sticks- He's able to yank off twigs from a branch and sharpen it into a point. Then he uses those against his enemies, piercing them with it.

---

Skills: good at tending crops, also good with animals

Weaknesses: doesn't know his own strength, uses only simple weapons like a spear, isn't used to beasts even though they just appeared five months ago

Other Notes: The murdering of the bandit that killed his parents haunts him to this day. He doesn't know whether or not he could find a way to redeem himself after that.
Was friends with a girl who tended to the sheep. He has no idea where his friend is anymore, as she had left Meadow a few months before him.
He has a tendency to give nicknames to people.

Ferril · Jul 25, 2016

Silyan of the White River Ishians.

Age: 36
Gender: Male
Height: 6'2

Province/Clan: White River Clan of the Ishian Nomads
---
Appearance:

Tall, powerfully built, and covered from head to toe in the scars of his past runins with the various dangerous beasts of the world, Silyan is, essentially, the Ideal representation of an Ishian Beastmaster. When not in combat his wardrobe often consists of some of the finest furs and leathers to be had, he would know... he caught and killed the beasts that provided the materials himself. Otherwise... such fine trappings fall to the wayside in the name of pragmatism. When going into combat he wears heavier leathers, just weighty enough to add some protection without restricting his movements too very much.

Personality: Silyan is fierce, stoic, and proud. As the eldest son of the White River's clan's chieftain, such has always been expected of him. In his duty as the next chieftain he was more than happy to endeavor to embody the virtues of his people... But, in the quieter moments, when alone or thinking about his younger brother, Sil shows a much gentler side. He is fond of the beasts that his people tame, enjoys quiet contemplation, and can, upon occasion, be found singing sorrowfully in the night. While he was always exceptionally protective of all members of his clan, his brother had always held a special place for Silyan. Now, with the entirety of his clan gone, he is devastated by the loss of his brother in these trying times.

Relations:
White River Clan [Presumed deceased]
Taliesan [Presumed deceased]

---

The first son born to Chief Iryan of the White River clan of the Ishian Nomads, gifted with the blood borne ability of Rewrittion and an innately powerful countenance that seemed to demand respect, Silyan always seemed predestined to be the next chief of his clan. He was, most certainly, raised that way. Constantly pushed to be the best, the fastest, the strongest, the most gifted of the clans rewriters, it was no surprise that Sil developed a severe and serious personality at an early age. His youth consisted largely of training, fighting with the warriors, stalking prey with the hunters, and then helping to tame beasts with the elder rewriters. A childhood lost to the rigors of responsibility and duty. Silyan, himself, would say that nearly his entire life consisted of the same slough, day in and day out, always training, always watched, judged. Would he be a worthy leader when the time came? Would he succeed, or perhaps even surpass, his father, one of the best Beastmasters in the Clan? Such questions were constantly on the minds of the people of his clan. And on his own.

Such was his life, year after year. In time, so obsessed was he with the how of becoming cheiftan that he had long since lost sense of the why of it. That is, if he'd ever really had a handle as to why one would want to be chieftain in the first place. There was no mistaking the fact that he loved the people of his clan dearly, but he had always secretly harbored a hatred for the position of clan cheif. Why would anyone wish such responsibility on themselves? Put the lives of the clan in their own hands? In all his years he had yet to find an answer to those questions... at least, until his younger brother was born.

Silyan's mother had long since died, having barely made it past the years of his initial training before succumbing to a disease during the Winter months. She left the clan chief with only one son, and no daughters. A dangerous state of affairs for Iryan's bloodline. As was customary, Iryan took for himself a new wife. A beautiful young maiden, much beloved by the clan. Silyan himself, never once paid her much attention. After all, he was always busy. When she became pregnant, and later when she first gave birth, he still remained disinterested. It wasn't until the first time that he held his baby brother in his arms that the spark of love and understanding lit itself within him. This was the feeling, the wish, that surely drove a clan Chief. A wish to protect that which one loves, at all costs. And while he, at first, found that feeling only when watching over his new younger sibling... it soon radiated to the way that he viewed the rest of the clan and, eventually, how they viewed him.

The birth of Taliesan led to a... softening in Silyan. The urgency with which he had pursued the title of Chieftain lessened greatly, and in so doing actually helped his standing among his clan, and in his training. The stress of his goal had, for years, been weighing on him. He now pursued that goal in a more leisurely manner, taking time to speak with those in the clan who he had previously had little contact with, watching his younger brother grow, teaching young Taliesan as their father had taught Silyan in years past when their father himself was too busy. Slowly, he began to understand what it would truly mean to be chieftain... not that that time seemed to be drawing close any time soon. Their father Iryan was going strong, healthy as a beast even in his eldest years. Still, over the years Silyan had begun to take over more of the actual duties of the clan. Leading men on hunts, helping to tame some of the more powerful beasts, meeting with the elders of other tribes and representatives of the various towns and cities. Duties that, as Chieftan, Silyan would be expected to handle himself.

Thus, when the Final War broke out and many young Ishian's signed on alongside their beasts as mercenaries, Silyan was to lead the White River warriors that joined in the fray. For five, long years he and his warriors used what beasts they could capture and tame for war. Great bears, wolf packs, mountain lions... even that most evil and uncaring of beast, the badger. All were tamed and charged into battle alongside their Ishian masters. At the end of the fifth year, Silyan, and what warriors he had left, were tired. Tired of the war, and the battle between the two great nations. Their contracts now over, and with a hefty sum earned for their families, many of the Ishian Clans pulled out of the war and returned home, leaving the war to rage on without them. The White River Clan was no exception. Silyan and his warriors returned home...

Only to find the clan much changed. Taliesan, now near the age that one might become a warrior, had become nearly impossible to manage. Til's little brother had always had more of the wild streak in him than most, and some said he was closer to the beasts in nature than he was his fellow tribesmen. Without Sil there with him, Taliesan had grown increasingly uncontrollable, and when Sil returned he found his brother far more distant than he had ever been before. Five years of separation had hurt their relationship, and five years of constant war had left Silyan in serious need of his younger brother's calming influence. The Clan retreated far from the ever more disastrous areas surrounding the two warring cities, and began the long process of healing from the scars incurred by their, relatively minor, involvement in the war. Years passed. While the clan healed, Silyan worked to heal the rift between himself and his brother.

Yet the war raged on, escalating to ever greater heights as the years passed. As they healed in their self induced exile the White River Clan only got trickles of information from traders and wanderers that passed through their camps... But, eventually, word reached them of the wars ultimate, and rather final, conclusion. It was decided that the clan would return to the cities, and to the age old nomadic ways of their ancestors. That... was a mistake. A grave mistake. The land that they returned to was not the one that they had left behind years before. Marauders roamed the wild places in droves, beasts rampaged through the streets of abandoned towns, and there were few, if any, other Ishians to be found... Madness reigned, with no rhyme nor reason evident.

The reason for the chaos became abundantly clear as they neared the former city of Abbelest, a place that their clan had stayed upon many an occasion. They didn't even get anywhere near the city before they had their first, disastrous, runin with the corrupted monstrosities that now inhabited the place. The ensuing battle was... horrifying. In the dead of the night, they attacked, so deathly silent and ferocious that only a few of the fierce and proud beasts that accompanied the clan were able to detect their presence, and begin to cry out an alert. Fewer still survived the first few minutes of the battle. Those that did were, largely, the SuperAlphas of the White River beasts. Humongous wolves, bears, and other beasts that had been born or bred with an intense infusion of magical energies and tamed by groups of powerful Ishian rewriters. Those, and the skilled warriors that fought at their side, lasted no more than an hour.

Silyan himself, was at the forefront of the defense effort. Fighting alongside his father, the clan elders, the surviving beasts, including his own battle scarred companion of the long war, and the warriors who had returned with him from the war so many years before. He watched, helplessly, as each of them fell in turn. And as he fought for his own survival, monsters poured into the camp. Even now the screams of pain and terror echo in his ears... When all seemed lost he ordered his beast away from the battle, unwilling to let a longtime companion die for nothing. And then, he fell under the claws of one of the monstrosities that had taken so many others of his clan.He should have died that day, along with the clan that he should have protected. He didn't... but only by the grace of fate.

As the men around him had fallen, the corpses of his fellows buried him. Protected him, even in death, as he had not been able to protect them. Long, long after the battle had finished and the rest of his clan lay dead all about him, Silyan awoke to a rough texture running across his face. His beast, a tiger by the name of Nightshade, had returned for him after the battle, sensing that he was still alive. She dug him out of the pile of corpses that had trapped, and protected, him... And together, they began the grim task of searching for survivors. They found none, at least none that were readily evident. He found his father, dead where he fell in battle. His step-mother, torn apart at the edge of the camp. Of his brother? He found nothing. Not until he began to wander away from the camp... and heard the cry of an eagle in the distance.

Storm, Taliesan's favorite companion, came to him and alighted upon his shoulder. Its connection to his brother, seemingly severed. His grief was overwhelming, and for a time he could not bear to move. So he sat, and he cried, for the first time in memory he cried... But he knew that it would do no good. His clan was gone. His brother was gone. He was on his own... but he burned with a need for vengeance. For closure. After re-binding Storm to himself, he set out with a new goal.

The ensuing months were spent healing, he and his beasts licking their wounds, and finding out what information they could on the beasts that had attacked his clan. What they were, where they had come from... and most importantly, how to kill them. With the invitation from Argent, Silyan feels that he might be able to do all those things and more.

---
Profession: Beastmaster
Profession Details: The Ishian style of rewrition is a complex and, rather interesting, procedure. It involves the literal rewriting of the minds of living beings. Through the use of their Rewriting an Ishian can rewire the minds of beasts, writing themselves into the very core of the creatures being. As a companion or as a master. In so doing they create a connection, stronger than one could ever achieve by mundane means, a linking of minds and souls. Orders or requests can be given or recieved through a very basic form of telepathy, and a single Beast Master can have a dozen or more links on his own. Skilled enough masters can even link beasts to others, rather than themselves...

Many things affect the difficulty of rewrition. The most important, is exactly how far one must bend a creatures mind to add oneself into its instinctual hierarchy. For example, pack, pride, herd and flock animals are far more simple than animals normally known for loner behavior. Creatures of greater intelligence are also far more difficult, often requiring multiple rewriters, or a very powerful individual, to rewrite and tame.
Signature Moves: For a man of his size and physique, Silyan's areas of expertise are surprisingly... esoteric. While he can easily throw a punch or swing an axe as well as your average soldier, it is his mind and ability to command his beasts that is truly impressive. During his five years in the war he and his beasts often acted as their own individual unit, stalking through the forests and ambushing enemy supply lines and patrols, and decimating them before they even knew quite what was hitting them. Guerrilla warfare is the name of his game, and he plays it masterfully.
---
Skills: Tracking, Tactics, Whittling, Leatherworking
Weaknesses: Long range combat of any sort, EXTREMELY (I.E. suicidally) protective of his younger brother's memory, guilt ridden by the loss of his clan, his mental connection to his beasts means that their moods can affect his own if he isn't careful, and last but not least gets along much better with beasts than with most people.

Tamed Beasts:

Appearance: Nightshade is a large, heavily scarred, melanistic (Black) tiger. Her dark fur allows her to blend into the shadows easily, making her a perfect companion for Silyan and his guerrilla warfare tactics.

Personality: Having been with Silyan since his stint as a mercenary in the Final War, Nightshade is extremely attached, and in tune, with her master. She guards him, his possessions... and anything else he asks her to guard with fanatic ferocity. Otherwise, she's actually a surprisingly tolerant and calm creature. She tolerates the presence of smaller creatures, even the pestering mini-man creatures, to a much greater degree than anyone could ever expect from such a fierce and prideful creature as a tiger.

Biography: Silyan found Nightshade about two years after he joined in the war as a mercenary. At the time she was young, an adolescent just recently left to her own devices by her mother. It was easy for Silyan, with the help of a few of his fellow warriors, to use that lingering connection to rewrite himself into the core of Nightshades being. From there, her story simply coincides with Silyan's. Three long years of war left her scarred, experienced in fighting and killing humans of all kinds, but by no means broken in body nor spirit. She followed him back to his clan , where she lived a much more... sedentary lifestyle for the remainder of the war. She hunted with Silyan and his brother, slept curled up by the fire with Silyan and, usually, several of the clan's children, and otherwise lazed her days away.

When the Clan returned to the war torn lands, and was attacked, she was one of the first beasts to leap to the defense of the clan. Her experience in warfare allowed her to survive the initial encounter, and Silyan's order for her to flee allowed her to survive the rest. But she returned, as she always would, to find her master. And she did, saving him from death again. Since then she has been at his side almost constantly, providing him comfort and stability in the wake of the destruction of his Clan.

Special Ability: A Shadow In the Night: As a melanistic tiger Nightshade is as black as... well, night. It is nearly impossible to see her in the dark or in deep shadows, and she takes full advantage of that fact when stalking prey, human or otherwise.

Grizzled Veteran: Nightshade fought alongside Silyan and his fellow Ishian's for three years straight, three years of fighting humans of all shapes, sizes, and skill levels has given her a healthy understanding of how most people fight, and an intelligence and understanding of war and battle fary beyond that which one would expect from a beast of the wilds..

Appearance: Storm is a beautiful Golden Eagle, a huge breed of raptor with wicked talons. He has few distinguishing features aside from a large brown patch on the back of his neck and a single white diamond patch on his forehead.

Personality: Haughty and prissy. That is all that need be said about the pest. Silyan's brother loved the bird dearly, and spoiled it far more than he should have. It doesn't like most people, has a tendency to bite those that annoy it, and spends far too much time preening its feathers for Silyan's liking. Still, the bird was his brother's favorite companion, and if for no other reason, Silyan loves him for that.

Biography: Silyan knows very little about the birds past or how his brother came to have it in his possession, all he knows is that when he returned from war the bird and Taliesan were already nearly inseparable. During the clans time away from the war, it was with Storms help that Silyan and Taliesan hunted, the bird spotting prey and taking down the smaller creatures, while the brothers and Nightshade handled larger game.

After the massacre of the White River Clan, Silyan searched for his brother desperately. In the end, he found nothing... but Storm, Storm found him. Together with the tiger Nightshade the group have survived.

Special Ability: Eyes In The Sky- Through a telepathic link Silyan can give and receive simple messages, such as general directions towards an enemy, whether or not to attack, levels of danger, etc.

Dive Bomb- Ever get hit by a ball of feathers and talons flying faster than most horses can gallop? No? Good. You probably wouldn't find it pleasant. Storm has been known to blind men and beasts with a precise swipe of his claws, and pluck smaller item or creatures right up and off into the air.

So sorry for adding another rewriter to the ever growing list of them >_<

Sir Basil · Jul 25, 2016

☽ Aatu Eidunar ☾

22 / Male / Binnes / 5'5
"It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood"

☾☾☾ Knight / Blood Rewriter ☽☽☽

Profession Details: Although Aatu was largely trained as a knight - with heavy armor and longsword - he is not particularly exceptional as a swordsman or tactician. He's skilled, certainly, but all know his father was far better. More importantly, he is not particularly experienced in knightly conduct, outside of the occasional tournament or melee - where he performed perfectly adequately. His magic - the manipulation of blood - is something else entirely. He is far more gifted with magic - but only talented, not skilled. He has little to no experience using his magic, and seems almost afraid of it -- but also desperately, despicably fascinated by it.

Blood Ties: Provided that Aatu has physical contact with another person's blood, he is able to manipulate it to a limited degree. Although it is somewhat unclear what capabilities and limitations this power has, it does have a few known applications that Aatu has explored. He can draw his victim's blood out, causing them to suffer from the effects of massive blood loss - provided that he has the time to do this. Although it has only occurred a few times in Aatu's experience, if he finds himself particularly enraged at the victim, their blood may literally boil and curdle within their veins. Most of the time this simply reduces the target to a stupefied, gurgling haze. His powers seem largely dependent on his mood when he has trapped his prey. Thus, Aatu doesn't appear to have much control over his capabilities, and attempts to open wounds can result in cauterizing them instead, and vice versa. Because of this, his powers are rarely used - but the more he uses them, the more he feels like he must. Aatu must maintain physical contact at all times in order for his abilities to work.

Unwanted Child: By cutting into his own flesh, and spilling his own blood Aatu can channel small amounts of controlled, mutable blood. This comes with a cost, but he is capable of shaping and superheating his blood into the equivalent of boiling oil or hot tar. Although he has only spilled small amounts of his blood in the past - he suspects that his powers would be more impressive with the more blood he sacrifices. The risk is not greater than the reward - and Aatu spills his own blood only rarely in combat.

Boon: Aatu is politically minded, and capable of keeping his emotions hidden and bottled up. He is literate, diplomatic, and mindful of world affairs and history. His training as a knight gives him some comfort with a sword and heavy armor - helping protect him from those who would do him harm. His family's wealth gives him some access to additional resources. He is a good sailor, and decent on a horse.

Bane: If Aatu lets himself become out of control, he is out of control. When his temper is raised, and the mask slips aside, he falls into fits of depression and self-destructive tendencies. He has limited capability with his own powers, and has received no training in how to apply them. The very nature of his powers requires great personal risk - he must either be in melee range and at risk of attack, or actively harm himself to do harm to others. He is not particularly self confident, but has a strong martyr streak which are often at odds.

☾☾☾ Personality ☽☽☽

Outwardly, Aatu is gentle, and soft spoken. Although the knit in his brow gives the impression of thoughtfulness, it is clear that the man is terrified of public speaking. However in small groups he manages to be flattering and some find his shy and courteous nature charming. He is deeply religious to a household God that he does not speak of often. Aatu's loyalty to his God, does not supercede his loyalty to the crown, and towards the Argents as a whole. He respects his elders and the higher nobles with dog-like approval, and he attempts to keep his words and gestures largely submissive. Given his family's relatively low position, his behaviour is generally regarded to be entirely in keeping with his station. For that, Aatu's disposition is seen to be admirable in a lesser noble. He is considered to be a harmless worm in a sea of vipers - and that is an illusion that Aatu cultivates.

Aatu is far more clever and calculating than is obvious. He believes that it is only through his will and personal strength that he will be able to elevate his family. Following the recent war, his belief has spread to a notion that without his guidance, Binnes will collapse. Whether or not this is true remains to be seen - but it is true in his heart, and thus, the protection of Binnes at whatever cost is his primary motivator. Nonetheless, his deep ambitions and self identification as a saviour run a contradictory path to his unwillingness to compromise his moral principles in order to do it. He has found himself in a stalemate versus the nobles - where he's trying to appear as unassuming and basely efficient as possible in order to avoid too much attention - and a strong desire to protect himself and his family's name from the chaotic world. The facade, coupled with the aggressive ambitions of his true agenda has wreaked havoc on his internal and emotional side. However, Aatu swallows his feelings, and presses forward - ever forward.

☾☾☾ Biography ☽☽☽

Long before Aatu Eidunar was born, the Eidunar family was established. One of the oldest and most stable families in the Binnes, their nobility was earned through great deeds. Their family's founder was a woman by the name of Eid, and she was renowned for her beauty, intelligence, and skill as a warrior. Her abilities as a tactician and battle strategist earned her the name Eid the Deepminded, a testament to her wisdom - and all descended from her have been held to her standard. All have been found lacking. One of the first kings of Abbelest, and Eid the Deepminded's ally, granted her a strait and surrounding lands as a reward for her service as a warrior. Th The Eidnasævar strait has remained in the family line as their other lands were swallowed up by the city. It is one of their last holdings, but the strait will never be forsaken by any member of the Eidunar family. The strait is the source of the family's continued nobility, as it is one of the most profitable canals in the Binnes province. The Eidunar family thus has long enjoyed commercial control of many incoming imports and exports.
Over twenty years ago, long before the XII Final War, the Eidunar family was in a new age of prosperity. The family patriarch, Lord Regin Eidunar was a close of the old King; and it was said throughout Binnes that he was the Kingmaker - the one who controlled who was fed and who wasn't, and strategized the funds and movements of the Royal treasury, supplementing the wealth of his own families with the tax profits. Regin's wife, Lady Ádís Grettisdóttir, was a powerful woman herself, she had had entrenched herself with the noble ladies of both the royal court and Binnes' own noble circles. She was considered to be a close confidant of the important women that had married even more important men. However, there were always rumours about Ádís and many of the rumours concerned her strange religion; a pagan system of beliefs that relied upon gods, monsters, giants, and dragons. Of course, all of this was a fantasy. Nonetheless, she believed, and she believed strongly.
Ádís believed the old legend. She told it well, and this is merely a poor reproduction of the story. She believed that that the Grettis family, her ancestors, were descended from a single giant, named Grettis the Pale. Surely, he was not a giant at all, merely an immense man - but the legend was what she believed. It was said that Grettis had split the rocks of the mountains, and he had built the Grettis forges - from where her own wealth came from. This pale giant forged beautiful arms and armor, and could turn blood and bone into jewels and gold. He was so mighty and accomplished that he forged a woman out of his blood and his finger bones. This golem, with ruby hair and diamond skin was the first Ádís in the Grettis line. Because of their shared name, Lady Ádís Grettisdóttir saw herself as the family founder come again, looking for her Grettis to wed. But she, as was tradition, had been married off to the already powerful, and already wealthy Regin Eidunar, despite her knowledge that he was not who she was meant to wed. Regin, despite his own legendary past, was simply not Grettis.
Ádís' Grettis was a different man entirely; her brother - Skýla. Skýla had proven himself to be a capable warrior, responsible for driving out bandits and barbarians from their mountainous homelands ; and she loved him dearly. When she was wed to Regin, she begged her new husband to find employment for Skýla so that she could keep him close. Regin, wanting to make his wife happy, caved to her demand. He was made a House Carl of House Eidunar. Because of this, Ádís had no proper children with Regin. Every time she was made to lay with her husband, the next morning she choked down a tea brewed from the black roots of the Carrionflower to trigger a miscarriage. She would conceal this from her husband. Nonetheless, Ádís had eleven children, all with her brother, Skýla. Regin was gone so often, that he did not catch them. She believed that one of these children would be as strong as Grettis was, and represent a return to the Old Faith. However, she found fault with all of the children. The first one was asthmatic, the second one was colic, the third soft in the head - the fourth mute, the fifth deaf, the sixth blind. The following five all suffered from some sort of epilepsy, and each had disfigured faces. When each of her children turned six, she determined whether or not they were strong enough, like her ancestor. Each of them failed her scrutiny. She asked Skýla to take them back to the Grettis hold and kill them. He did so. Ádís told her husband that the children were sent away to various distant nobles in order to be fostered in their houses, so that they might have connections with distant lands. Regin believed her - but there was gossip. There was always gossip And the gossip got louder and louder.
The fateful moment came when after one long journey, where Regin was away and Ádís lay with her brother, as was her fancy. But Regin returned unexpectedly early from one of his voyages, and wanted to lay with her as well. It was a futile effort. A desire to clutch at the remnants of his marriage. Ádís could not bring herself to drink the tea - what if this child was the one? Even if it had been tainted by Regin's seed. The rumours did not stop. In fact, they increased as her belly became more and more swollen. When Regin passed the fishmongers in the streets, his wife's name was on their lips. They said she was an unholy whore, who spoke to dark spirits. Washerwomen whispered that she was birthing demons into the world. Why else would she be so often pregnant - but the Eidunar home should never hear children's laughter? Regin told her that he was leaving - that he would go to the distant Abbelest and would not be back for weeks. But instead he went to find a Rewriter who could help him. He found his salvation in a Rewriter of Wood - Kriemhilde. The blind old Rewriter was immensely powerful, and exceedingly expensive. But Regin had to know what his wife did, when he was gone. Kriemhilde came with him to the family estate, and pressed her claws into the walls. She could hear the groans of Regin's wife - and her brother. She told Regin as much - and there was nothing that could restrain him. Regin grabbed the two of them - his rage imbuing him with strength - and flung them to street. They crawled away, bloody and battered. And for a while, all was well.
Six years after Ádís was flung from his door, and some years before the XII Final War began, Regin abandoned his political career. The clouds of war seemed to be on the horizon. Perhaps he knew before anyone that war would break out - or perhaps his wife's betrayal had cut him too deeply. His peace was interrupted nonetheless. A child arrived on his door. The child was a boy, and the child looked exactly like Regin - the same Binnes brown hair and light tan skin. He did not seem capable of much speech, and simply offered a note with only a single sentence. "This one is yours." It was not signed, but Regin knew. the child on the doorstep was his son by Ádís - his only son. He named the child Aatu, and loved the child as much as he was able to. He hired tutors to teach him speech and basic etiquette - all of which the boy had been lacking. He tried to provide for his child. But, the circumstances that the child had been conceived in continued to bite at him. Aatu's father did not blame him. But he nonetheless never forgave him for the misfortunes that accompanied his birth. Despite everything - Aatu was his only child, and Regin had the expectation that his only son would one day occupy the same role that his father had held, and the father before him, all the way back to Eid the Deepminded. Regin had great expectations from a child that he never touched, never embraced, and always treated like a stranger. And Aatu, for his part - wanted nothing more than to be the son that his father dreamed of.
But coldness breeds contempt. Aatu was trained in the martial arts by his father, and a retinue of tutors. When his father and he were alone, there was little love lost between them. Aatu tried to please him, but the boy simply wasn't as quick as he should be, or as strong. Aatu was constantly paying off of the debt he owed his father for simply existing. He wondered why his father wasn't happy that he existed - but the rumours followed him. He was a witch's son - a rewriter's brood gone terribly wrong. And those rumors were why Regin would never accept anything but physical and mental perfection from Aatu. For this, Aatu began to resent his father for what had been done to him, for the constant emotional abuse and indifference, for the way that he was never seen in the way that he was never really loved. He was fourteen when he spoke up against him, throwing down his practice sword and saying that he never wished to be an Eidunar. That he would run away. Regin grabbed him by the throat, and held him tight, until he began to choke and die. He did not kill his son, but he told Aatu what would happen if he did not do as he wished. if he could not carry on the legacy of Eidunar, he served no purpose, and would simply be killed.
Aatu's mind turned dark. By the time that the XII Final War was in full swing, he became fascinated with the war - he wanted to prove to his father that he was a capable and competent solider. But the fact of the matter was - he wasn't. He was a skilled swordsman, and understood horsemanship, but that was not the same as being a good solider. He didn't have the stomach for it - he was too sensitive, too fragile, and too afraid. He was not the man his father wanted him to be, despite everything. So, he plunged himself into his mother's world, trying to find something in it that had a place for him. He began to investigate his mother's beliefs, and developed an interest in all of the dark and unexplained things in the world. Magic fascinated him, called to him in every rumour that he was the child of the devil-woman. Magic, from the line of Grettis, was in his blood - be he did not know how to unleash it. Aatu dared not tell his father of his pursuit of magic; knowing that his father didn't want any traces of his mother to show their face.
Two years before the XII Final War ended, Regin fell ill. Old age and heavy drinking poisoned his blood, or so the apothecary said. They leeched him, they called for the Rewriter to heal his flesh - but Regin's body was determined to die. Aatu loved his father, and that is the sad truth of the matter. Despite everything, he loved him. When Regin's bedsores leaked blood and pus, it was Aatu who cleaned the wounds. And it is in that wound cleaning that something stirred within in him. He found himself able see through the blood, able to feel it bubbling inside his head, while all the while it was under his fingertips. He pressed his fingers deeper into his father's cysts, as he lay delirious with fever. He could feel his father's heart, as the blood gurgled beneath his touch. Regin's eyes opened a crack, and he issued his final command to Aatu. "Get out." Aatu, afraid that his father felt what he had done - yanked away, and closed his hand. His father's blood was smeared on his fingertips, and as if it had a life of its own, crawled across his fingers. He found himself clasping at the snakes of blood, grabbing at something that his father could not see - as if he was a man possessed.
His fingers closed around the blood. He yanked them away from him - as if they were leeches. He smashed them on the ground. Aatu found himself breaking down, begging the vision to leave him, begging them to die. They went away - and his father laughed at him. In a hardly lucid state, Regin croaked; "You're just like your mother." Aatu turned to his father, and he could hear the failing of his father's heart in his ears, almost deafening him. He took his father's head in his hands, and pressed his thumbs into Regin's eyesockets. He pushed down hard, and felt his being course through his father, turning his veins hollow and empty - withering flesh, emptying guts. It was like he was in a trance. But it was a trance that ended in his father's death.
The apothecary and his servants found Aatu slumped over his father, cradling his head in his hands. They assumed he was in mourning, clutching to his dead father. Aatu was different from then on. He conducted the funeral with absolute cold efficiency, and began to arrange his marriage to a wealthy, Binnes noblewoman. Everything was orderly, under Aatu. Everything was quiet. But in secret, a Rewriter's needle had been sewn into his palm. His ambitions were quiet - and the gossip eventually trickled away. A month before his marriage; he joined the Argent, leaving the running of the household to his wife to be, a certain Cynthia von Ulbrecht. He knew she could be trusted - and he knew that she would look over the mercantile affairs of the Eidunar as if they were her own - afterall, it would be her own soon. He promised to make himself into a worthy husband for her, by the time he returned. All believe that he is joining the Argent in order to make himself worthy of his wife - to earn fame for both his name and his person.
And that's true. But there's always something else. A needle in the palm, a memory of a mother, and a belief in heroes.

RedArmyShogun · Jul 25, 2016

Name: Karmia Razgriz

(has Red eyes)

Age: 24 Gender: Female Height: 5'4" Providence: Kelda

Personality:

Honorable, prideful, arrogant and a tad bit deranged. Karmia tends to be a typical Keldian. Always, if a bit absent mindedly looking down on the weaker elements, or at least more ignorant, of the population. Being a noble woman as well she often as of late wrestles with the ghosts of her past, seeking answers to a great many questions, and perhaps a bit more peace. Oddly, or at least for people who don't know Keldians that well, she has a conscious. Knowing when duty and pointless violence have crossed a fine line.

Because of this while Haughty and mocking, if not a little unhinged, Karmia tends to at least treat people fairly..if not unapologetically. Overall while she harbors some distrust and resentment towards others based on where they are from, it also holds true for her fellow countrymen. In general class and social standing are more important to her than any bloodlines. A fact that those who can stand being around her, will quickly learn.

While this is mostly an aggravating factor, Karmia is known to be somewhat kind to her comrades, sharing food, or trying to talk civilly with them. While her smart remarks may not cease, or her general nature, she will readily fulfill some requests.

In battle the Royal Dragoon is known to be unrelenting, relying on her enchanted armor and blade. With both, the Storm Raven, lives up to her name. Though she is surprisingly observant and watchful, even if her conclusions may not be the most sound. Like a hunting hawk, she stays perched above, waiting to make her presence known. A skilled combatant, Karmia can be trusted to watch someone's back...mostly.

Paradoxically, she seems guided by whims and her code of honor. While able to be a noble lady, Karmia can show a surprising amount of bloodlust. Believing its better to be feared than loved, she joins this new army for a host of reasons, confined to herself.

Though perhaps that kinder nature of the well learned woman, that shows mercy, is closer to the truth, than the sociopathic Keldian. We take shape to the events and people around us.

Profession: Keldian Royal Dragoon. (Specialist Physical rewriter.)

Profession Details:

Soldiers of the former Kelda Royal Army were known for their use of specialized rewriters who could physically rewriting augment their bodies with wings for speedy movements or combat recon gliding. While this naturally has its own uses and specializations, the use of heavy armor and weapons, tended to limited effectiveness among some troops. Those who have a long history or noble upbringing tend to afford a bit more in regards to training and skill.

Armed with enchanted weapons, and the so called "Blood Ribbon", these elite soldiers were titled Royal Dragoons. Focusing on the use of heavy two handed blades, enchanted armor, and magic that is meant to make the body stronger. They are trained to specialize in combat actions from, or to the skies, if but for brief periods of time.

Not many of these soldiers survived the war however. Being from the noble houses, noticed by the red ribbon, and while Elite soldiers, still fairly human, they were prime targets during the war, and in its aftermath.

~~~

When they were still a force to be reckoned with, the Royal Dragoons were infamous for leading several sieges and subjugation missions, ending up in places normal soldiers could not even for their normal Keldian counterparts. While not able to truly fly, these Dragons were known to cross short distances quickly, able to leap up tall structures and reach areas other soldiers cannot. Their flight ability seems to be a form of advanced gliding.

While flight still eludes these elite soldiers, they have more mobility than the standard, able to jump great leaps with aid of the wings. The Royal Dragoons served as a form of Heavy Infantry and Reconnaissance.

As to how this system of rewriting is activated, it would seem the Blood Ribbon holds the key, not merely being for show, the ribbon connects to needles located beneath the rear back plate, connected to two back hinged plates. When pulled by the left hand both needles drag across the back, releasing the Rewriters ability.

By the same manner, the blood spilled helps with the armor and weapons enchantments. Once fully removed, the needles are pulled completely, in part this is so the Royal Dragoon doesn't die from unneeded blood lose. If after this period blood is needed to be shed for more spells or bower, the user will have to resort to other means.

Signature Moves: Short of traditional sword fighting, and infiltration tactics, Karmia developed a few specialized moves from her eight years on the battlefield. Where she earned the nickname Storm Raven. Those tactics mostly consisted of powerful high-speed charges, surprisingly, being able to use her massive blade one handed, and normally attacking from the high ground.

Of note she developed a glider attack. By ascending to a high area and gliding down with use of her wings, its a form of swooping attack the Royal Dragoons had a variant of. Hers was mostly using the sword in "flight".

Skills: Mostly trained and raised to be a soldier and a noble, Karmia's skills outside of these factors are rather slim.

Etiquette and social protocol:

when dealing with high society, Karmia, even if begrudgingly can function to the rules and manners expected of a noble lady.

Well Learned:

Karmia has the advantage over most in this age by having proper tutoring. Able to read and write fairly well.

Entertainment:

Knows a variety of dance and the use of musical instruments. This in part falls under her Etiquette training, though she picked up many questionable songs and how to belly dance, though that last fact is largely unknown. The most outgoing one may see her being in this regard, is playing a Ocarina or Lute.

Weakness:

Autoimmunity related issues:

Karmia depends on a healers care every so often, while a long term treatment is possible, her body is in a state of internal conflict. Medications or magic treatment has to do until she has the means to afford this. Noticeable effects of this is a case of insomnia, pale skin, headaches, and light sensitivity.

Lack of ranged Capability:

While able to achieve some means of high-speed movement and a great sword fighter, Karmia lacks any means of ranged combat, she must weather such attacks, or clos in.

Mental Instabilities:

Issues cutting far deeper than just personality plague Karmia, from bouts of rage, blood lust, nihilism, and paranoia. She has through the last year been through much. Without the chance of a break, her very nature has became somewhat twisted, if left too long to her own devices. In attention shes known to have psychotic episodes.

Confinement, or speaking out of reason are good options to settle the situation with her. If this is permeant, or curable, only time will tell. Seems to enter an almost Berserker like state in extended combat, may speak to herself at times.

Biography:

Born into a family of five, Karmia is the youngest daughter of Razen Razgriz, the Keldian Baron, and his wife Ishtar. Sister to Alvir and Jerik, Alvir her senior by six years, Jerik by four. Any further additions to the family seemed to have been halted by the worsening situation with Abbelest. Being of a noble lineage, life was better than most. Education, food, training, were in plentiful supply. Though, not all was perfect, responsibilities and duties were heaped on high. Both civil, and martial. Studies of the latter seemed to suit Karmia, which was just as well, for by the age of sixteen the war that waged on for four long years would conscript her.

Heeding the call to duty with her natural and long breed abilities as a Aerial Rewriter, it was no surprise she would end up in the Royal Dragoons, with the Kingdoms most skilled in Rewriter abilities, and normally of noble blood. Climbing the ranks fairly quickly Karmia was a noted scout and ambush tactician. At first rather small scale, attacking Abbelest scouts, often sweeping in from above, aiming to take their heads in her first strike. Later on this progressed into attacking gate keepers, messengers, other targets of opportunity, as if careful in choosing who to kill.

These tactics while not limited to her, possessed a certain fear factor in Karmia's case.

Sweeping down with a massive two handed blade, the woman would seemingly fly into enemy ranks. Among friend and foe, her distinctive black wings, and the purple flash of her aura, lead quickly to the nickname "Storm Raven." And her armor being unofficially colored in purple.

Over the course of the next three years, she would be noted for distinguished service in the Battle of the Cauldron. Named after a gap in the Kelda frontline where a fort of Abbelest long stood. The Royal Dragoons, while always a specialist unit, was till this point seen as a "baby sitting" and recon force. Under the direction of her father, the Dragoons led a raid which had startling success, leading to the collapse of the salient and consolidation of Keldian forces.

Sneaking along in the darkness the Dragoons would scale an older, partly collapsed section of the fortress, and then glide into the main citadel. Having operated in the area for years, Karmia would serve as a signal to the Keldian Shock Troops, and hopefully as a means of fear to the local garrison. Having scouted out the area thoroughly beforehand the Royal Dragoons knew more or less what to expect, and where.

Jumping from the tower in that dead of night, Karmia's purple aura lit up the horizon. Gliding down to the central keep, her normal glider tactics cut down a bodyguard, and she dueled the local commander. Having little respect for the aging peasant, Karmia fought him one handed, swinging her massive blade. With a bit of finesse that spoke of training and battle experience, Karmia went directly for the commander's head, once he was worn down. Between the death of their commander, commandos in the walls, and the Kelda Army assaulting the outside, retreat and surrender were the only options left to the garrison.

Most of whom chose the third option of death. It was in such a pointless clean up that Ishtar would die. This would sour the mood of the Dragoons, seeing such last stands and revenge as stupid.

Regardless, her own actions would lead to the Army giving her the current garb she wears, and her nickname becoming an official title. Her father would be promoted to colonel of the Royal Dragoons, her brothers gained rank as well. Given this, the Dragoons became an elite special tasks unit that acted semi-independently of the main army, because of this and the noble blood of the unit, a certain arrogance would form within its ranks, and oddly, compassion.

Karmia's fighting tactics largely did not change, consisting of gliding into targets of opportunity and then fighting with expert swordsmanship. At times both hands on the sword, at others with one free to assist with melee. Trusting her armor to protect her body, Karmia's presence was noted on many a battlefield. While not the strongest soldier, or the most blood thirsty, the fact she seemed to hunt a single target, and would sneer at those weaker than herself, had a certain reputation.

The Storm Raven was always out there, her purple signature heralding destruction, or simply the deaths of a select few. Though in some ways her father would become more feared, and her brothers respectable in their own rights.

Near the closing stages of the war, the Royal Dragoons would be reassigned to deal with a threat that had caused the Keldian lines to buckle in some areas, the Free Company known as the Grey Wolves.Troops worthy of respect, having observed them and fighting a few skirmishes, a battle plan was formed. In co-operation with the Royal Army. The Army would allow a detachment to retreat past a forest and open plains to the North West. One which more likely than not, the hard pressed Abbelest Army would take. And so they did. The Grey Wolves with other forces "broke" the Keldian lines, moving up from the front to encircle and route the frontline forces.

Karmia remembers that day well. Heavily armored foot-soldiers laying in holes, covered by wooden thatch, the Royal Dragoons in the treeline. Like birds of prey, the spread wings, attacking the mounted men first, during this confusion, infantry would rise up from hiding. And from there, the Royal Dragoons would land in the heart of the mob.

With superior armor and weaponry. Karmia hacked men apart in great number, having some respect for these men and women, she would go for killing blows, or some attempts at incapacitation. Black wings spread out, the Storm Raven found them to be remarkable fighters, with a few hard-pressed bouts, her ability to use her Calvary killing blade one handed paid off. What was an ambush, then a pitched bloody battle, soon became a route. While losses were heavy, the Dragoons allowed the survivors of the Grey Wolves to retreat without harassment.

Not being citizens of Abbelest, the Royal Dragoons took the Grey Wolves wounded, and treated them fairly well. It would have been a great deed if not for what happened next. With the destruction of the Grey Wolves, and the supporting Abbelest Infantry by the "retreating" Keldian forces, the first major breakthrough was had. Abbelest's defeat was now a matter of time.

The Dragoons given loses were reassigned to rear security, a well deserved rest. But when the reports of genocide came through, the unit's higher officers voted almost unanimously to disobey this command, so that Keldian honor would stand true. Abbelest was defeated, there was no point in this madness. As the main army swept through, the Royal Dragoons would find survivors in their "security sweeps." Those not armed were told where and how to escape the encirclement. Karmia in one memorable action came across a survivor of the Grey Wolves, with a fiery look in his eyes. Riding atop a horse with a black cloak, she stared down at him, sword in hand.

Then she nodded him off, doing as her father had instructed. He would not be the last, but he was one of the few she would remember. Soon there after, word of this would reach command, at first the Army was prepared to kill the whole Regiment, until her father agreed to commit suicide, taking punishment for the units actions. Spilling his guts out before the whole unit, sword in hand, Karmia collapsed.

When she next awoke it was to madness. Both of her brothers would be killed in this city by these... things. Karmia herself underestimating the creatures, was wounded heavily in a battle with one. A large one much like an animal. Its maw biting into her head, and swinging her like a child's toy, before being felled by a passing unit of Archers. Escaping that hell thanks to a passing healer, Karmia's mental state steadily seemed to collapse.

Reaching her homeland after a terrible journey, she found nothing but open civil war, the King was gone, and she may likely be the last of not just her family, but the Dragoons as a whole. Her family servants were mostly dead, she was scarred, and now white haired, no prospect of marriage by most accounts, she hurriedly sold off her family lands to a local warlord, desperate for gold, to pay for her journey, and healing.

Forced to seek care for her injuries and not wanting any more of this.. madness that was their war, Karmia would come across a missive from the king, in search of answers, healing, and maybe peace. The now, white haired "Storm Raven" sets out, blade in hand once more.

Relations: Theo Lukass - She tends to somewhat look down upon him, for being both a former enemy and lower caste. It is a bitter irony, that the one person from her past, would be him. Having some respect for his compatriots, and other things to worry about, she is somewhat civil to him. For her the war is long over, and a new one is just beginning.

Following his past events with some interest during her more stable moments. Mostly based on what she overhears from the small folk.

Other notes: Her nickname in part comes from her finished black wings, but also from her visible purple aura when channeling magical power, as well as armor color. Of note before her accident, her hair was black.

Theme song (for the lulz?)

Welp that's in, let me know if there are problems.

Jhuton · Jul 25, 2016

Name: Aridian Kellar
Age/Gender/Height: 19/Male/5"10
Province: Abbelest
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Appearance: Aridian's physical features are typical for members of his family. He has porcelain skin that almost seems pallid. He was born with a rear condition that give him eyes of two separate colours, one light green and the other light blue. He is the only one in his family who has this abnormality. His snow white hair just brushes his back and his physique is very svelte.

Personality: Aridian is generally very condescending and indifferent towards most persons, greatly due to his own self-image and upbringing. He values his intellect and fancies himself to have been one of the smartest persons in Abbelest, if not the entire continent. He sometimes speaks in a cryptic manner and exudes an air of suspicion. Because of his obsessive desire to achieve all his goals, he has developed a sly and manipulative side which he employs to trick people into doing his dirty work. Aridian possesses a deep seeded hatred of the Keldians because of their destruction of his home, but it rarely ever shows on the surface unless he is deeply enraged or upset, an event that rarely happens due to his own militant restraint and self-control. Aridian was considered attractive by many of the Abbelest girls and has eventually learnt to use his good looks to bring people under his thrall
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Biography: Aridian hails from the city of Abbelest, where he lived with his mother and father for all of his early life. They were a wealthy family and resided in a massive stone behemoth of a building they named Castle Kellar. The Kellars were a very social family, and frequently hosted large get-togethers at their home. The Kellar's forefathers made their family fortune in steel after a simple expedition in tunnels just outside the city lead to the discovery of an iron mine not previously known to exist. Since then the Kellars have risen to the status of one of the wealthiest families in Archminister, responsible for 1/3rd of steel weapons manufactured across the land.

As the oldest living child of the Kellar family, Aridian was expected to inherit all his family's wealth. After the start of the war, the Kellars were made even wealthier as a result of the increased demand for steel production in the city. Because of their importance, they went relatively unscathed in the war. Aridian's father, knowing him to be the next head of the Kellar household, raised him to be ruthless and intelligent, to always see to it that his debts were paid and to assert his authority by never losing a single battle. Aridian's childhood was very rough because of his father, but he always got everything he wanted, to prepare him to take what he wanted when he was older. His mother was mostly supportive of his father's treatment of him.

Aridian had a younger brother, Arren, whom he loved dearly. He made it his mission to protect young Arren, regardless of the cost. Arren was the only spark of light in the world of darkness Aridian lived in. During the final days of the war, Aridian's father decided that he needed to be able to defend himself in the war torn city they called home and so he began learning the Rewrition of his father and all his ancestors. He had a Rewriter's Finger inserted into both his wrists. When the war was finally lost, everything quite literally went to hell. The entire city was set ablaze, with Aridian's home, one of the city's larger structures, being amongst the first to be destroyed. He made it out of his doomed home alive, but his family had perished in the burning house and his right shoulder was left with a large red scar to remind him of his tragedy. He spent several days unconscious on the ground in front of what was once his home and was only brought back to reality after strange creatures began to overrun the city.

Aridian journeyed far on foot, not knowing where he was going, until he stumbled upon an Abbelest elder who had taken refuge in a dilapidated shack off to the side of the road. He remained there for several weeks, mourning the death of his family and the fall of his city. It was there his hatred for the Keldians began to kinder, until he resolved to avenge all he'd lost. When the messenger arrived with his invitation to Argent, he readily accepted, so he could eventually repay the former King Rhyzen for the death of his family and the loss of his fortune.
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Profession: Friction Rewriter

Profession Details: Aridian possess the skill of Friction Rewrition. This gives him the power to apply an intensified force of friction to any moving object, usually resulting in immobilization, abrasion and heat generation. He spent only a short amount of time training with these powers under the guidance of his father, who'd mostly disregarded Rewrition because he wanted to be feared for his might and not his power. Aridian continued practicing with his powers even after his father's demise. He is constantly thinking on how to best utilize his abilities as well as how to increase them.
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Skills: Aridian is skilled at swordplay, which is one of the many skills his father thought him. He is also good at strategics and is well conditioned to be in leadership roles. He is also a novice inventor. His greatest skill, in his own opinion, is his intelligence.

Weaknesses: Aridian cannot use his Rewrition on things that are not moving. Also, it is harder to apply friction to slippery objects and the further away he uses his ability, the less effective it is likely to be. He has reoccurring nightmares about his brother's death, which sometimes make him reluctant to use his Rewrition, as it produces sparks that remind him of the burning cinders his home was reduced to.

Other Notes: Theme Song!

Asuras · Jul 25, 2016

Briaes Waldgeist

Age/Gender/Height: 18/Female/5'8"
Province: Blenngham

Personality: Where once there was a tenacious and bright soul within Briaes spirit, solitude and death has hardened it into savagery and coldness. Her attachment to people is minimal and fleeting at best, preferring the company of her own mind and business to keep it occupied. Though time in the wild has dulled her sociability, she remains fully capable of interfacing with the civilized world; a childhood surrounded by peaceable folk was not lost in the woods.

Briaes has a short temper and a foul mouth, and an even shorter patience. Dawdling is not in her nature, though in such an extreme case, she appears agitated even when doing what needs to be done. Ultimately, nothing is more important than survival, with hers being the foremost life to be saved. Still, she is no idiot. With recent failures and dangers, the wild girl perfectly understands her own lacking and the necessity for assistance. A few wolves won't stop the Corruption. She knows that much.

Biography: The War was hardly Briaes' concern. Forget the fact that she was but a tiny babe when it had began; her cozy village was too far removed -even by the standards of a Blenngham land- to have any worry or stake in the battles. Groenigshire, as it was called, was situated in a rolling highlands many miles from the "bustling" city of Blenngham, Briaes enjoyed a comfortable, quiet, and simple life. Daughter to a leather worker in a place that prided itself in ruggedness and strength, Briaes was free to pursue whatever she wished, even as a woman. Still, her interest and duties nevertheless remained closer to home than to her dreams, and she ended up following in her father's line of work.

Save the occasional passer-by, little news of the outside cities reached the village's ears. As far as they were concerned, they wanted nothing to do with it. Briaes went by in life considering the world safe, harmonious, and enjoyable. Nothing terrible came of her village, even as the years ticked on. The village had nothing to offer but a small lodge and breathtaking views. No armies came to raze them. No roaming bandits to plunder their dusty coffers.

A trip to Blenngham at the age of fifteen opened Briaes eyes to the world of Rewrition. So far removed from any signs of magic, Briaes had lived under the assumption that magic was just something talked about in old fairytales spread through the remote lands. Having thus learned of its existence, curiosity got the better of her and Briaes sought to test whether or not the "right blood" flowed in her veins. Using a Rewriter's Finger revealed nothing of note, though Briaes kept the tool partly out of hope, partly as a souvenir.

When the War had finally ended and the Corruption began to spread, Gorenigshire remained free from any immediate danger of encroachment, though sure enough the dire and pertinent news reached their town swiftly. As Blenngham was so close to Abbelest, Groenigshire was similarly 'close'. However, their remoteness instilled in them a surety that no harm would come to them if they remained. Of course, the Corruption never saw it that way.

Though the monsters remained at bay for the time being, the madness that spread into the minds of men proved the most swift of corrupt changes to ail the world. Soon, bandits began to pillage Groenigshire with increasing frequency. At times, there were two individual bands arriving at once. The small residence could only hold out for so long, and eventually, the town collapsed. Families were driven from their homes or slaughtered. Briaes escaped into the wilds, now homeless and without family.

Knowledgeable of survivalist skills, Briaes nevertheless remained vigilant and determined to live on. Her first year was difficult, but she persevered. The occasional entertaining of being a Rewriter budded into success during one of these lonely years, and Briaes discovered her ability to commune with beasts. The power was finicky, working only with those creatures that had any involvement in Briaes herself. A year spent coaxing a pack of wolves in the snowy tundra worked in her favor, and Briaes had effectively become a member of the wild gang. With her superior intellect and ability to commune, Briaes assumed control of the animals, quickly heightening her success in the wilderness.

Her journey brought her from corner to corner of every inch of land in the Northeast, hunting game, bandit, and monster alike. News spread of a pack of wolves that preyed upon madmen in the snow, with a golden-eyed devil directing them to the hunt. It was only when the girl arrived at the gates of Blenngham that the legends had been confirmed. A girl living with wolves outside the walls of the city. Seeking supplies that she could no longer procure,thanks to the infestation of monsters in the one area she could naturally find them, Briaes entered the city with axe in hand and exited with a letter in the other.

The 'last safe refuge'. The Argent Fortress. Briaes traveled with pack in tow, snowy mountains at her back.

Huntress

Briaes is a ferocious fighter herself, accompanied by a remaining troop of three wolves with whom she can communicate as easily as with another human being. Though their faculty for advanced orders is limited, the number of commands she can give is still profound enough to make the entire kit a force above and beyond the scope of mundane wolf packs. Direction, timing, placement, attacking, holding, dodging; Briaes can direct the pack alongside her own actions to confuse and wear down an opponent. Wielding a traditional Blenngham greataxe, Briaes' blows are powerful but slow, most effective when the enemy is hindered by her comrades.

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Skills: Hunting, simple leatherworking, woodwork shelter construction, navigation.
Weaknesses: As quick-thinking as she is in battle, Briaes is of the sort of Northern intelligence the rest of the world pokes fun at. In terms of manners, social awareness, mathematics, etc, she is completely inept.

EmperorsChosen · Jul 26, 2016

Name: Theo Lukass
Age/Gender/Height: 19/Male/6'2"
Province: Abbelest
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Personality: Beforehand, Theo could be thought of as a very kind and outgoing individual, and though he still can be, the boy has since surviving the massacre at Abbelest become much more stoic and serious due to the loss he's endured and chaos he's witnessed. In all honesty, the dark-haired mercenary could've turned out a lot worse than he currently is.

Rather than filled with anger and spite towards Keldians, Theo seems to remain rather calm when seeing, speaking or hearing about them. Of course, he doesn't like them; hates them in fact, but he won't allow himself to be overcome with rage as that would simply put others and himself at risk. The loss of those he cared about actually did more good than bad as Theo shows to be extremely mature for his age, speaking more in the same way of a calm veteran that someone with the same lack of experience as he.

While a mercenary and used to demanding payment for his services, Theo is ironically not very greedy or concerned with monetary gain. Honestly, he'll put a stop to something or help someone of his own volition simply as he sees it as the right thing to do, not asking for any kind of reward, though he won't often decline if offered. He has somewhat of a hero complex, that is for sure. Theo especially seems unable to turn a blind eye to wrongdoing, despite the current situation. This means that if he sees corrupted or bandits ravaging a village, he'll almost certainly focus his efforts to protecting it or at least ensuring survivors escape. Or if someone of higher status abuses their authority, he won't hesitate to stop their impositions. This can be taken as both a good trait and bad fault. Theo's heart is definitely in the right place… but unfortunately, what the heart dictates isn't always what's best.

Relations:
Karmia Razgriz- Theo, like any Keldians, detests the girl. However, he does see himself as owing the woman, which is verily the only reason why he is willing to associate with her at all in a form that is not completely cold. More or less, he seeks to repay her as quickly as possible so as to be able to cut association with her.
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Biography: A boy born to leaders of a mercenary company stationed primarily in the province of Abbelest. The Gray Wolves, initially making a name for themselves as a diverse freelance company, were quickly dragged into the war effort when Kelda and Abbelest went at arms. They were compensated well and ensured steady income for the company but—due to Abbelest's grave disadvantage, the troupe would endure losses as often as the faction itself. It was for this reason that Theo lived a mostly sheltered early life. While the majority who took to wielding a blade for the profession trained young and considered themselves adults and independent when they came upon sixteen years of age, Theo experienced his first battle but a year ago, when he was eighteen, verily only being allowed the opportunity for acquiring battle experience through the taking of side-jobs of much less endangerment.

By not any means weak or unskilled, Theo stood little chance at proving himself in battle, more so for the reason that the war was coming to a close with Abbelest on the losing side. The battles the company participated in only grew more and more disadvantageous and Theo didn't hold much of a fighting chance when the company and a detachment of Abbelest forces attempted to circle the enemy's sides and flank them only to be ambushed on the way. The detachment was nearly wiped out and the company acquired more losses as well. While Theo attempted to stand and fight to protect those of him troop from being slain, a retreat was ordered as it was obvious they stood no chance at repelling the enemy, forcing the boy to leave the fallen behind, an action that would forever haunt the young swordsman.

Around five months later, The Grey Wolves stand greatly diminished, more of a squad than a company really. His father, Ryker, a skilled swordsman and tactician hailing from a military family of the same province they fought for. His mother, Hildegarde, a warrior from Blenningham with a monstrous strength and brutal fighting style that did not disappoint stereotypes. Raynard, an arrogant man with a past unspoken who hailed from The Binnes surprisingly, though you wouldn't guess that at first glance from his personality and actual enjoyment of "getting his hands dirty". Cecelia, a knightess as well from Abbelest who left the military over a decade prior in order to join the Wolves. Finally there was Theo and his younger sister Lucielle who was much too young to even be considered for combat in normal circumstances, let alone the dire ones that plagued their current day. The great mercenary troop now reduced to five active members, it was only when it was too late that they contemplated breaking contract and fleeing; a thought that, while cowardly, Theo's parents heavily considered for everything else aside, the well-being of their children. They were vagabonds, not actual soldiers, so long as they did not wield their blades for Abbelest, they could live and revive their name elsewhere. If only they considered this plan prior to when Kelda launched its final purge on the faction.

Fire engulfed the city and soldiers executed any who managed to escape the gluttonous flames. It was here that Theo lost the rest of his company and family. While they managed to survive the fire itself, they quickly wound up separated when an immolated building collapsed. With his parents and Raynard cut off from the other three and ambushed by a detachment of Keldian soldiers, Theo once again was forced to run and hope for the best; his parents and Raynard were skilled combatants and there was no way around regardless, he felt it was necessary to focus his efforts to protecting his younger sister. Unfortunately, the three didn't make it far before they too were attacked by Keldian personnel. It was here that Cecelia, who he had grown up looking to as a non-biological aunt, was felled by the numbers. Enraged, Theo gripped his blade and charged at the commander only to be blasted back by the user's magic into an inflamed building along with his sister. Theo recovered only a few moments too late and saw his sister, collapsed and unmoving, only for burning debris from above to fall and bury the girl the second he moved to retrieve her. Filled with grief and shock, the sole survivor of the company, Theo sat there frozen, only being thrust back into reality when the structure shook and more debris fell to his side. Fleeing from the building, it was there he encountered yet another Keldian, albeit one slightly different.

Falling to his knees after escaping the unstable structure, Theo looked up to see a mounted Kaldian woman with blade in hand, just staring down at him. Exhaling heavily, fatigued and with having lost his blade after getting blasted through the fiery building, he wouldn't have stood a chance. The woman could have killed him with ease, but instead, she just nodded her head back in the direction she came from, told him of a hole in the encirclement of the city, then went on her way. Theo did nothing in response but stare up in anger, though he did trust in her words. Well, it wasn't so much trust as her not having a reason to lie. Following along the route he was told, he encountered another duo of soldiers not as benevolent as the woman that spared him, which he was saved from by Raynard; a bitter-sweet moment as, while he now knew Raynard was alive, it was also how he learned of his parents' passing.

Truly, if it wasn't for her, there was a very good chance that Theo wouldn't have made it out of the city. Together, the two escaped the city just as the "Corrupted" began chasing even the Keldians out. Raynard stated that he would be going his own way after the two had recuperated, but not before replacing the boy's equipment. He gave the reason that he owed Theo's parents and being from the Binnes it's not like he was short on money. After that, however, the only other survivor of the company bid the boy farewell and set off on his own, leaving Theo to make a name for himself from scratch.

In the months to come, the Theo would roam, continuing his parents' profession by taking on jobs in various provinces, sometimes simply lending aid and leaving without a word of compensation at all. In the few months to come, he would take on the name of his company entirely, earning the epitaph "The Gray Wolf" for his ferocious fighting style and brutality in battle. Though, as is expected, his name is only spoken of rarely and in certain parts of the continent he has traveled within the past few months. Verily, Rhyzen's messenger might have missed him were he not to have witnessed Theo's combat proficiency first-hand. With the promises of renown and reward, as well with the capability of helping people, Theo accepted the invitation with the hope of one day rebuilding his parents' company and creating a new family for himself.
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Profession: Mercenary
Profession Details: Well-traveled, Theo finds advantage in his skill with blades as well in his experience with various cultures, people and combat styles. He as well possesses a limited sufficiency with tactics and bartering. Hardy and flexible to adapt to multiple scenarios, Theo can play the shield or the sword in a battle.
Signature Moves: Theo makes use of his diverse knowledge of and experience with various combat styles. Rather than use any specific style, Theo shifts and alters his form to suit his needs. Whether he needs to brute force his way through his enemies in a style similar to his mother's and make use of large sweeps and cleaves, relying more on instinct and brutality to intimidate and break his opponents or his father's style of enduring and parrying blow after blow until a lethal opening presents itself, then taking advantage of it, with blades, axes and even pole-arms, Theo is a jack of all trades.
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Skills:

Cooking
Tactics
Singing

Weaknesses:

Young and inexperienced still
Built for tanking, not for maneuverability
No long-range capability

Theme:

Lonewolf888978 · Jul 26, 2016

Celthric Wolvesbane
27
Male
Province: The Grimdosh Marauders *Tribe Trending*
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Appearance:
Celthric is a rather large man, at 6'5 with a wide muscular frame. His body is covered in scars, most of them he can't seem to remember how he got, but they vary in sizes and shapes covering him from head to toe. Most notable are the three long claw like scars across his face, and a similar pair across his chest. His skin is a lighter shade of tan, while his dark green eyes are often in a glare towards more civilized folk. His hair is a dark brown, and rather long. It grows down into his long beard, that hangs well onto his chest.
Personality:
Celthric is often in a state of joy when drinking with friends, hunting, and fighting. Those also happen to be his favorite past times. Other times he can often see being either rude or aggressive when in the absence of friends or foes, and often tries to pick fights. While traveling away from civilization he is much calmer and relaxed, and in a much more likeable mood in the wilderness.
Relations:
None at the moment
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Biography:
When the XII Final War came about, Celthric was but a boy, yet a warrior none the less. Already completing the right of passage his father, his tribes chieftain, set in place he was right in the mix of some of the first raiding parties on the small towns and hamlets that littered the country side. By the age of twenty, he had lost count on how many lives he had taken. His father and the other tribes that made up the Grimdosh grew cocky, and attempted a raid against an army of the Abbelest . During the extremely short skirmish, many of the marauders fell in battle, along with Celthrics father. Taking charge of his tribe in the closing months of the war, Celthric fled back to the wilderness with his tribe. The others called him foolish and a coward, but Celthric proved his bravado in the field. He sought out to make his tribe to prepare and grow strong before the upcoming winter.
When the corruption came, Celthrics people stood strong while the other tribes fled. It wasn't long until his warriors wavered in the face of the chaotic faces the many monsters held, and Celthric fled to Kelda. The walled city refused the marauders entrance, and that very night his tribe was torn apart. Seeking vengeance on the corruption and willing to do whatever is needed to help end its hold on the land, including allying with the civilized folk his people once hated, causing him to join Argent.

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Profession:
Horseman and Barbarian
Profession Details:
On horse back, Celthric is a fierce opponent, capable of firing a bow with deadly accuracy, as well as using a sword and shield effectively on his mount. While he refuses to use spears as melee weapons, claiming stabbing someone from a foot away is cowardly, he is still an effective calvary warrior.
On the ground himself, he is just as deadly. Often switching between weapons, he remains unpredictable and a threat on the battle field.
Signature Moves:
While the majority of his moves consist of being completely aggressive and seeking to overwhelm his enemies in strong precise blows, his only signature move may be his favorite way to switch to horseback to on foot. Jumping from horse back, he leaps into the fray normally tackling a foe to soft the impact of exiting a moving horse, or on the rare occasion tackle a rival horseman.
Common Gear:

Three Throwing Axes
Hunting Dagger
Hunting Bow With twelve arrows
His Leather/Iron Armor
Meanwhile he often switches between the following main weaponry.
Sword/Axe Combo
Axe / Shield Combo
Two Handed Great Axe
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Skills:
Tracking
Skinning
Wood Crafting- A pass time he uses to carve totems and other small figurines.
Weaknesses:
Swimming/Aquatic Travel- Despite being a fierce warrior, Celthric is often afraid of traveling over large bodies of water, either rivers or lakes, or anything else he can't wade through.
Diplomacy- He would much rather punch his way out of any situation than talk his way out of it.
Mount:

RJS · Jul 26, 2016

Vaniela Gungni

25
Female
5'10"
Abbelest

Personality

Vaniela is fiercely patriotic, and proud to be Abblestian. She thinks nothing of helping fellow Abblestians, and still views her loyalty as being to Abbelest rather than to Argent. She never used to be too bothered by Keldians as a child, but now she harbours a deep dislike of them, especially those who served in the Keldian military.

She has a gruff, blunt personality, and has very few qualms about speaking her mind. Not one to hide behind a fake smile, respect from her is something that is earned, rather than something that comes automatically. Those she does respect can rely on her full support, as one footsoldier to another.

However, gnawing away at her is a dark, burning core of anger and sorrow. She blames Keldia for the corruption. She blames the other cities for failing to do enough to stop it. She blames herself, for throwing away her unit. Anybody who touches the wrong nerve at the wrong time will likely find themselves on the receiving end of a punch at best, and a lance at worst.

Vaniela is a reliable comrade, somebody who you can turn to in your time of need and who will always be willing to lend a hand. That is, if she likes you. And if you happen to not be a Keldian. And she's not had a bad day.

Relations

Pending depending on what other characters get made.

Biography

Vaniela was born into a military family in the city of Abbelest. Her father was one of the city's few Rewriters, and used Force Rewrition as a weapon on the battlefield. Her mother was a renowned captain of the Abbelestian military, and was famed not only for her tactical nuance, but her skill with sword and shield. Vaniela admired her mother greatly, and never though of being anything other than a soldier just like her.

At the age of 12, the XII Final War broke out, and both her parents were called out to the front lines. Vaniela was sent to a military academy by her own request, and began her training. A dedicated recruit, her skills with various weaponry improved, though she struggled moving in the heavy armour typical of the Ablestian military. As a result, she was an effective, if unremarkable, cadet.

However, all was set to change. 3 years into the war, her mother died fighting on the frontlines. Her father, wounded in the same battle and grieving, was allowed to return home. He taught her an alternate path, helping her to awaken her own Rewrition in the hope of turning her away from the military and keeping her safe. To his dismay, Vaniela instead used her Rewrition to augment her physical combat potential. Ditching the heavy armour she had struggled in and utilising her enhanced manoeuvrability, Vaniela shot up the ranks of cadets, and within a couple of years was fast-tracked into the military proper. Her father was devastated by her choice, though he publically supported her. The concern and worry ate away at him, leaving him frail and weak.

Vaniela took her unique fighting style out onto the frontlines, swiftly being recognised for her trademark speed and keen eye with the lance. Fighting amongst the infantry, she could breach tight formations and punch through armour, eventually earning herself a promotion to Captain, and her own unit to command. They formed a vicious spearhead, one that smashed many battle lines over the years, Vaniela always leading from the fore.

Their aggressive strategy backfired on them in the final days of the war. The unit, operating at the vanguard, found itself cut off from the rest of the army, and was forced to retreat. Over the next couple of weeks, they sought to find their way back, but were intercepted by enemy patrols or detachments. Numbers dwindling, Vaniela ordered one last desperate attempt to break through a weak point of the Keldian encirclement. However, reinforcement arrived before they could push through, and her unit fell. Vaniela herself only survived thanks to her Rewrition.

Filled with grief and rage, Vaniela could do little but watch the fate of Abbelest from afar. She was not aware of the corruption until she encountered a couple Keldian recruits fleeing from the abominations unleashed from within. They choked out the whole story as they lay there bleeding. In exchange for their information, she gave them a swift death. She set off in the direction they had come from, still hoping beyond hope that her city may be saved.

It took very little time for her to realise that Abbelest was a lost cause. She was forced to flee, hide and fight as she moved away from the tide of abominations, doing her best to help the people of the region as she moved. Tales began to spread of a woman who arrived like lightning, goring foes with her lance. Presumably word reached Argent, hence her invitation. Though she detested the thought of working under Rhyzen, it was her only hope to achieve her wishes...

Lancer-Captain

Vaniela was a frontline solider fighting in the vanguard of the Abblestian army. She paired her skill with the lance and her Force Rewrition to unleash devestating charges at high speed, then back off to evade a counterblow. As a backup, she also carries a sword.

Vaniela's Rewrition is channeled through a pair of needles that sit on the inside of her armour, piercing her legs. Her Rewrition multiplies the force generated by her natural muscules, enabling her to accelerate and turn at speeds beyond that of a normal human, and allow her to deliver her signature charge.

Vaniela fights more like a cavalryman than a footsoldier, charging in before disengaging, followed by another charge. Undoubtedly effective, the combination of Rewrition and physical exertion can be exhausting, and overruse of her Rewrition in her fighting style will cause her to tire at an exceedingly high rate.

Skills
Passable cook and forager.
Moderate tactician.

Weaknesses
Short temper.
Relatively poor staying power in an extended fight.

DocDec · Jul 27, 2016

Sir Ungard Strathmoor, "Ungard the Undying"
37/Male/6"9
Abbelest
---
Appearance:

~~[OR JUST IMAGINE A HEIDE KNIGHT]~~
Personality:

Sir Ungard is not a sociable man, first and foremost. To the soldiers he fought alongside and lived with in Abbelest in the final few years of the war, he probably said an average of ten words a day to. He's unsociable, very, very easy to irritate, and still manages to be rather scary even when he's trying not to be, which made him rather unpopular with his comrades despite his abilities.

In addition, the extent he's had to use his Rewriting to keep himself going in battle, and the pain that goes along with it, has taken a toll on Ungard's mind. He's been shot, stabbed, slashed, hacked, bludgeoned, burned, and lashed more times than he can remember. He's killed hundreds and seen thousands die. It takes a toll on a man, after a while. All in all, he's not the most stable of fellows.

Relations: Probably none, unless others are soldiers from Abbelest.
---
Biography:
Sir Ungard Strathmoor was born to a doomed house in a doomed city. House Strathmoor, one of Abbelest's foremost houses of martial prowess and known for its ability to produce military elite, was overjoyed to learn that the large young man born of one of their sons was a Rewriter. They'd been worried, as their last few had not been, and those that they had within their walls were aging, making it possible the Strathmoor technique of Rewriting would die out.

With this knowledge, the elders of the House sent the boy to begin training immediately. He was schooled in the ways of the blade, and in the ways of Rewriting customary to his house-the ability to shrug off pain and grievous injury for inhuman periods of time. Thus, as is customary, the trainers of the boy used real weapons in their drills. He was hurt, sometimes seriously, but he grew stronger for it, and indeed, it seemed by the end that House Strathmoor had produced their finest product of invincibility yet.

And then the war began. And he'd never felt more ready for anything in his life.

Sir Ungard, as he was often called due to the rather large amounts of "Sir Strathmoors" there were running around, performed in battle like nothing seen before. He was a juggernaut, a titan, a walking mountain of flesh, iron, and bone that crushed everything before it. He was hacked with axes, hit by arrows and javelins, stabbed with swords all across his body. According to some reports, in three different battles he was completely set on fire.

And he just kept on fighting.

Despite his schooling, Sir Ungard had never really been a truly great swordsman. But it didn't really matter here. He seemingly didn't need skill, didn't need finesse. He'd walk into battle with a sword in one hand and a mace in the other and absolutely obliterate more skilled, faster enemies after weathering their blows like no normal human ever could.

Despite his performance, the injuries did indeed begin to take a toll on the massive knight. Indeed, after certain pitched battles, Ungard would fall to the ground, overcome with pain and exhaustion after shutting it out of his system for so long, and lay there for days on end. His legs, after suffering so many wounds, didn't work the same as they used to, giving Ungard his signature fast limping gait. His skin, even now, is a mess of burns and scars, looking more like a weathered set of leather armor beneath his full plate than anything else.

And then it became common knowledge that Abbelest was losing the war.

It wasn't even a surprise at this point, really. Not for the others. They'd seen their men dying by the thousands. They'd known this was coming. Ungard, however, didn't. He seemed to believe, in those last few battles, that if he fought hard enough, if he kept on going, if he just kept killing those goddamn Keldians, he could win the war himself. He could deliver glory upon his House and death to their enemies and walk right up to the gates of Kelda and cast them down with his bare hands and rip King Rhyzen's fucking head off for doing this to his people.

But he couldn't, and he didn't, and after a while even he began to see that he wouldn't.

Soon, his city was burning, his House was fallen, his family was dead, his home was a haven for monsters and abominations, and Sir Ungard the Undying was reduced to a robber knight frequenting the roads of the countryside. That is, until someone came to him with a letter, and the letter opened his eyes to a way to save his home. At least, what was left of it...
---
Profession:
Berserker Knight
Ungard is a letter of blood, a savage warrior who uses his Rewrition to go into a deadened fury of slashing and smashing men about with his weapons. It's not a perfect technique, and it's not pretty or graceful, but it goddamn works. Ungard is in no way a skilled warrior, basically only knowing how to hold his sword and mace and how to swing, but his insane brute strength and immunity to pain counteracts this.

Particularly grievous injury, such as decapitation, bisection, an arrow through the eye and into the brain, breaking of the neck, and other such wounds, would put an end to Ungard immediately, without him being able to stop it. However, he can basically ignore other such injuries for very long periods of time, up to and including being run through with a sword in a non-vital area.

Signature Moves:

Ironclad Jig
Oftentimes in battle, when completely surrounded by enemy soldiers, Ungard was observed to spin in place furiously, as if in some kind of mad dance, mace and sword held out to his sides, batting away weapons and slicing/bludgeoning opponents with wild abandon. He was often hopelessly dizzy after such an attack, but luckily for him, everyone around him was already dead.

Pincushion
When facing a particularly skilled or fast opponent, Ungard would often wait, his guard down, facing the man or woman. When they'd strike, he'd lean into it, taking the full force of the attack and, incidentally, catching the other person's weapon within his body. Dropping his sword, he'd wrap his gauntleted fingers around their arm, and, having them trapped, crack their skulls open with his mace. Ungard often used this technique on elite Keldian troops, who were hopelessly out of his league in terms of skill with blades.
---
Skills:
Not many, though horseback riding, drinking, and wrestling were activities Ungard would partake in when he wasn't fighting.
Weaknesses:
He's hopeless with words and persuasion (though not intimidation), scarier than the bogeyman, deformed from all his fighting, half-crippled, and moderately insane after all he's been through.
------------

Ananfal · Jul 28, 2016

Name:
Lydlos Morder
"It means Silent Killer. Apt, don't you think?"

Age:
Unknown, early 20s
"I don't know when I was born. It's a mystery."

Gender:
Female
"Don't be stupid. It's not hard to tell."

Height:
5'8"
"Being taller than normal isn't a disadvantage. I find that it helps me in my line of work quite often."

Province:
Blenngham
"Does it really matter where I'm from? I do jobs anywhere."

---

Appearance:

Personality:
Lydlos doesn't show emotions very well. She is often described as cold and unfeeling, but that isn't true. However, Lydlos hides her true feelings behind a mask of emotionless to make it harder for others to hurt her using her emotions. She doesn't trust well, and if someone betrays her trust, they don't live long enough to do it again. Lydlos travels constantly because of her chosen profession, and so doesn't form close bonds with anyone. She prefers the company of animals more than people, since she finds them more trustworthy. She has a soft spot for children, and always spares them when she can. Lydlos doesn't feel like she deserves well, anything, and so she pushes others away so that they can't get hurt.
"I don't like people. That's it."

---

Biography:
Lydlos' first memories were of an orphanage. Her parents had died when she was only a few years old, and so she spent the majority of her formative years in the single orphanage in Blenngham. When she was around 7 or 8, a man came to adopt her. She called him Master. He taught her how to be a slave, how to be a killer, how to obey his every whim. He took her all around the country, to different cities, teaching her and abusing her and hurting her all along the way. She was his dog, let loose upon those who offended him, sitting at his heel when speaking to his allies. However, Lydlos was only biding her strength until she could bite the hand that fed her, striking the killing blow that ended her abuse forever. Alone in the world, she took her master's money and continued on the only way she knew how - killing. The war was good for her, both sides giving her money for targets on either side. She didn't care who won. She would have a job either way. However, when the Chaos began, her work began to fall off. People had more important things to do than kill other people. So when the letter came, offering money and opportunities to kill, Lydlos accepted.
"My history doesn't affect my ability to do my job, which is all you should care about."

---

Profession:
Assassin
"I kill people for money. It's what I do. You can like it or not, but I don't care."

Profession Details:
Lydlos is quite skilled in daggers, archery, and poison-making. She is somewhat less skilled, but still proficient, in swordplay and hand-to-hand combat. She is quite sneaky, her footsteps unable to heard while she is being stealthy. In addition to this, she is remarkably flexible and acrobatic, aiding in her ability to get away from pursuit and get into hard places. Her ability to disguise herself is usually not necessary, but she is still able to pull off a quick disguise if needed.
"I am quite able to do my job. If you doubt me, I would be very happy to... show you."

---

Skills:
Lydlos is skilled in all areas needed to survive in the wild, such as cooking and hunting.
"I can take care of myself. You don't have to worry about me."

Weaknesses:
Lydlos is barely able to read or write. That was not deemed important in her learning and since her master's... departure, she had not had the opportunity to fix the void in her knowledge. She also has little to no social skills, and does not get along with other people.
"I-I don't need those things! I'm not weak!"

Other Notes:
Lydlos loves animals. She will automatically think better of those who take care of or have pets.
"They're more trustworthy than humans. And... perhaps I feel a small amount of kinship with them."

Wizzy The Wizard · Jul 30, 2016

((Didn't really have time to look at other CS's so dunno if there is a character similar to mine))

Viktor La Croix
"The Grandiose Executioner"

Age/Gender/Height:
26/M/6'2

Province:
Abbelest
---
Appearance:
The picture above represents what he looks like usually in his armor since he traveled all over the chaotic continent before arriving at Argent and it is what he wore to battle back in his war days. Remove the spikes on the helm and the cloak and the picture is perfect.

Skin is slightly darker, light skinned, Olive

Personality:
I will be putting some of his backstory into the personality part as well, so kind of take them combined
Before War/Death of Lady Celessa:

Viktor used to be a charismatic guy to say the least, he would take life and it's events in a rather easy going manner and would be known as a jokester and clown by the people around him. But something about this young man always attracted others to him, his smile would always be earnest and the kindness he would show to others was unparalleled. He was the kind of guy you wanted to be around on a bad day, a reliable and loyal friend that would look our for you. His warmth attracted many and his loyalty a selling point to many. In the early stages of the war when he became part of the war machine, he was a loved figure among his comrades and maintained a positive atmosphere that even his superiors appreciated. Even if the war was seemingly a lost one, Ronan made it seem as everything were fine. Of course this would hide his own anxieties and doubts...

Ronan had always had an admiration for his Lady Celessa, but it was more than just admiration, he truly was in love with her Majesty Celessa from the moment he witnessed her speak to the people as a young lad. He knew his love would not be answered, but from afar he would admire and fight for her. Secretly he wished that his work in the army and as a fighter would become recognized more and more. So that slowly he would become closer and closer to her, until he would be able to stand next to her.

After War/Death of Lady Celessa:

Viktor now is a man filled with wrath, he tries to remain quiet for the most part and keep his thoughts to himself while emitting a rather unwelcoming aura. But he has developed a rather deep hate for King of Rhyzen and any Keldians, for they were the ones who caused the death of his muse. He is lovesick and anguished by a deep wound in his heart. He may open up to someone that could relate to his experiences etc. but for the time he remains a silent, stoic individual. His main characteristics would be in a nutshell, very angry, strong hatred to Rhyzen, and a very sorrowful but angry look in his eyes. He will go off on those who attempt to criticize or make fun of Celessa or his kingdom.

Relations:
Possibly another Soldier that was in the war on his side, or others. Not sure.

Biography:
Viktor's early life was a rather happy, carefree, and satisfying childhood to say the least. Before he was absorbed by his ideals and love, before he was tormented by the countless he saw die before him and the news of his Lady being executed. He was a happy boy living near the bustling trade centers and cities of Abbelest, his mother was a merchant and his father was a rather successful blacksmith. They were a young couple whom gave birth to a healthy baby boy. When Viktor was born his mother stopped most of her merchant business and focused on raising her child and their home. She maintained a small shop on the side of herbs as a pastime and an extra source of income; however, the family was well off economically. Viktor's childhood consisted of him being a happy, active boy whom dreamed of becoming a performer and entertainer for the high class one day; Although, he kept those dreams a secret. He was popular among the other children and was educated since his family could afford it, him and the other kids would often play and Viktor would often even take the role of a leader for the group of kids he played with.

Of course when the war came during his teen years, life took a turn for him. Around this time Viktor began to experience strong feelings towards her majesty, Lady Celessa, and while he maintained these perverse and passionate feelings within his young teen heart. It also fueled him to become part of the war machine and serve Lady Celessa. He became more distant as time went on, he had began to study in a military academies and became a serious patriot and supporter of Celessa's actions and decisions. His parents were swarmed with the job of making as many weapons and armor pieces as they could, business was booming for them so they could not give much thought to their son making the decision to fight. He was becoming a man and those were his decisions as a man, loving Celessa, fighting in the losing war, and killing hundreds, they were all decisions made by a man... a man named Viktor La Croix.

As he grew and became a soldier, he was quickly acknowledged as the weeks went by as a capable soldier in the front lines. Having one of the highest individual kill counts of any soldier seen on the front lines. He was given better, magic resistant equipment, and offered a position as a captain with his own squad, but he denied the offer of the position, only wanting to fight in the very chaos of the fight. Viktor slowly found himself addicted to the chaotic nature of battle and becoming highly skilled at weaving and gracefully killing dozens swiftly with his red tinted sword. Many did not understand how such a charismatic young man could be so ruthless in battle, which earned the respect of his comrades and the fear of his enemies. As the years went by he became a more silent individual, he could have left the fight long ago and retired but he still continues to fight for his Lady. He was given several perks and influence in the army but never managed to be acknowledged by the lady herself. Viktor continued to fight and his personality and heart continues to harden, he had become truly numb as the prolonged experience of battle continued in the heated front lines.

When he began to realize just how lost the war was, when he could no longer fight effectively due to the overwhelming power of the enemy. That is when he truly began to fear and fight desperately. One reason would be he wished to protect his Lady, and the other would be to try to become recognized by her in some way. Sadly neither of these came to fruition, and Viktor was only greeted with losing battle after losing battle, no matter how many he killed over and over again. The losses continued to pile on until finally they had lost... they lost the war. From here it is a blurr in Viktors memory, he fell into deep depression his desperation to protect the love of his life became increasingly intense. He found himself asking for an audience with the Lady, begging and pleading that he protect her and stand by her side still. But the only response he would ever receive from the lady was in a public announcement that she would address to her rioting and chaotic people. Where he yelled out her name and made eye contact with her, he could vividly remember the look in her eye, fear, exhaustion, and distress. This was right before the true chaos came and Viktor was forced to run from his kingdom. To survive he hunted and became a bounty hunter. He did what he could to survive outside.

Viktor for the 5 months since he left the kingdom had grown his hate for the King Rhyzen and the people of Kelda, He still remained depressed for the large part of his aimless trek across the continent. Living off the wild and scavenging, when he found out about the fate of his Lady from a surviving merchant that now aimlessly travels to collect goods and survive, he cried out to the heavens in agony for days on end. Until his voice was hoarse and his lips were covered in blood, till tears would no longer leave his bloodshot eyes. A fate worse than death had been presented to him in his mind and all he could do was damn the world and Kelda. But over time he could simply not believe it and simply denied, and denied, he continued to enter Abbelest after the true chaos ensued but to no avail. He could never get close enough to an entrance or even near his kingdom without meeting some kind of abomination or obstacle.

When he recieved the invite to Argent, all he could think of was killing King Rhyzen if given the chance but he decided to prioritize and set goals in order
1) To figure out the truth of this entire situation and his lady
2) To kill King Rhyzen once given the opportunity
[I am really sorry if this fell off and became repetitive and generally bad quality, I think it did but I simply am pretty tired and wrote this all in one go, but hopefully it is acceptable ;~;]
---
Profession:
Duelist/Swordsman

Profession Details:
He excels at 1 on 1 combat and basically assassinations/ swift executions of his opponent once finding a mistake on their part in the duel. He uses a combination of feints and swift maneuvers to outplay and kill his opponent gracefully. They have been developed in battle and his own intelligence and ability to manipulate his opponents movements comes into play.
He is also very good in fights with several people obviously since he fought in the front lines in a war, he is usually equipped with his long sword/one handed broad sword made of a rather sturdy red tinted metal. The metal has no special properties aside from being very strong and does not lose sharpness or sturdiness easily. He is decent at hand to hand combat but the weapon he specializes in is the sword. He can use most blade weapons (prefers one handed use) such as sabers and daggers as well, Claymores are the largest blade he would use before becoming uncomfortable since it's two handed use.

Shields of course are also part of his arsenal, as they also incorporate a new set of feints and extra protection.

Signature Moves:
Multiple Layered Feints: If faced with an opponent that has experience against feints and attempts to predict, Viktor can force reactions from them rather easily and incorporate feint of a feint. Such as pretending to go for an overhead swing that if it were a standard feint would lead to a slice to the lower body of the opponent (Waist down or Belly) Because their reaction would be to raise their guard upward. But Viktor could also pay attention and manipulate opponents who attempt to read a feint, but actually go for the strike or shield bash etc.
TLDR Manipulation of movements and reactions, and the quick reactions as well as predictions of an experienced duelist.

Reading Feints: He has the ability to recognize feints very well since he has revolved his sword play and tactics around several feints to create openings in his opponents guard. He is not baited in very easily and is very vigilant of any characteristics his opponent has.
---
Skills:
Hunting and Scavenging
Weapon Maintenance
Some Cooking

Weaknesses:
His love for the Lady: Of course it can be a motivation, it hurts him more than anything at the moment and if she is mentioned and talked about negatively, he will go on a rampage and attack whoever mentioned/slandered her name.

Overly extended duels: Fights that become more drawn out can make him lose his edge in feints, feints are much more effective when an opponent is not expecting them at all so at the beginning of a fight, where they would believe an opponents initial move and be hyper defensive. But as fights draw out the opponent will have a better chance to read feints and not drop their guard because they have become accustomed to it

His new anti social tendencies: You have to make allies in this world to survive, that will be a lot harder for him now.

Ranged Combat against him: Of course people who keep a range from his long sword and can fight from a far distance will be harder for him to take out, although he does have his strong plated armor to protect him, it still is a challenge.

His Anger: He is very much a wrathful being now, it has made his fighting a bit more intense and passionate but still in social interactions he may not be the best team player.

Other Notes:
Was very tired, can add more weaknesses if needed or change stuff though if this is even considered accepted or not. Have no regrets if you don't even want the spot filled and I was too late, made this at my own discretion and risk.

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