CHARACTER INDEX Kingdom of Asteria [ Character Index ]

[Mothball]

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[awesomecat.]

Aurora!

Hybrid! Of a Faun and human!

Local baker!

Long light honey curls that hang over her shoulders and give her face a soft look to it. Pretty bangs that hang in front of her face like curtain bangs in her natural wolf cut that occasionally becomes a curly, messy bun that becomes hidden with a merlot colored bandanna. Her face is soft with a cute button nose that's pointed upwards with a small scar across the bridge. The tip of her nose is faded black, looks like it was covered in char but no matter how much you rub it, it won't go away. Big, round doe eyes that are a beautiful copper color and have nothing but innocence behind them. Her heart shaped lips are in a constant natural pout that gives her an alluring look to her. Her waist is soft, not skinny just soft with pretty plump thighs and slim shoulders, (technically a pear shaped body?). Long, curly ram like horns that cover her cheeks and make her light colored sheep like ears stick out. She has a small, sheep like tail that rests on her lower back.



Abilities are that with a carved, beech flute that she can cause different emotions to stir with the people she's around based on the tone of her melody. Another is that she can lure people with those same melodies.

Flaws are that she's quite the apologetic person even when she doesn't need to be and that she's way too accepting and empathetic for her own good that she believes all people are good and no one can be bad!

She was raised in the forest with her parents who taught her the ways of her faun like counterpart and how life goes. Her parents are sort of hippie ish, very eco friendly.

Nothing that I can think of yet-

 

[Mothball]

Merkor
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Hybrid - Harpy
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'Retired' Skyguard Captain
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Appearance​

Merkor has a large, intimidating body covered almost entirely with pitch black feathers that only leave his limbs and face exposed. With

unnaturally grey skin dotted with dark freckles he appears as though his body were carved from granite, allowing him to easily blend in amongst the statues perched against Astera's most beautiful of structures. His arms and legs are more akin to the claws of an eagle, granting limited motor skills but enabling him to deliver devastating blows to objects he knocks from the sky.

Not only that, but Merkor is known for having purposefully sharpened talons of which he flaunts proudly whenever possible by tapping against his teeth; These teeth of his are unsurprisingly pointier than most with a focus on consuming flesh, becoming fused closer to the front in a small dark beak hidden just beneath the lips. His wings are joined to his arms up to the wrists and he's top-heavy with a long almost swan-like neck, causing him to walk with a hunch that makes him appear a lot shorter than he actually is (though still able to tower above most of Astera's residents).

Draping behind Merkor is a long feathered tail that assists him in flight - the colouration of his feathers all-together resembling that of a harpy eagle. These feathers replace all natural hair on his body, including atop his head where they remain smoothed downward until he becomes angered or startled in which case they puff up and outward like giant ears. In a similar fashion his yellow eyes may also expand, becoming consumed by the dark pupils at their centre when he spies something of keen interest.

Without focusing too much on his harpy side, its clear that Merkor is an older gentleman with dark eyebags and wrinkles beginning to crease against the stresses of his skin. Exiting out of his prime he's taken to slouching more and occasionally grumbles about the aches in his bones - especially those coming from the silver bands strangling his ankles. These bands appear to be a form of intricate anklet, with an outward hoop where some form of leash would have been attached. Once comfortable and loose Merkor has clearly outgrown the equipment and is in need of help removing it.​

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Abilities​

Merkor is one of the fiercest harpies in Astera, boasting a raw strength that's rarely ever been outmatched within his element. Despite his size most of his flight time is spent in a glide on the warm currents above the island, masking the sound of his approach until its too late. He's patient, biding his time camouflaging into the shadows of buildings watching the sky with literal eagle eyes able to spy prey from an incredible distance. Those talons aren't to be messed with either, like a collection of daggers eager to be put to use.​

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Flaws​

While his aerial abilities are astounding he's less than graceful when it comes to terrestrial movement. More bird than man, he finds it difficult to run (doing more of a quick hop) and struggles to get himself off of the ground without a wide space to stretch out those wings; The action itself also takes far more effort without being high up already, slowing him down considerably. He becomes stressed easily in enclosed spaces, having little to no awareness of what's around his body and often knocking into everything or everyone whether he means to or not.
Merkor is actually far-sighted, struggling to pick up on details when objects are close to him. Being his eyes are also so sensitive he can actually be stunned for longer than most with a bright flash of light. Though, beware his temper once he recovers.​

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Background​

Merkor was hatched in a stable as a part of a noble mans menagerie, fed well and kept warm throughout his childhood he was better off than most even if he never truly could recall any sort of genuine affection. Attention came as reward for obedience, proved in the aerial shows and harsh cull of rabbits for applauding guests. As he grew bigger so too did his prey, from the rabbits to boars to deer to....​

Witches.​

Other hybrids, even humans on occasion. Just so long as they ran fast and panicked enough to make the onlookers cry out in hysterics when the harpy caught them and dropped them dutifully at his masters feet. So long as he was fed and warm he knew no different, growing to see these creatures as little more than unthinking animals. That was until another harpy was settled upon the edge of his perch;

Chani was smaller, brighter, and infuriatingly persistent in her attempts to befriend the larger bird. She'd been taken in as a songbird and by the stars did she sing, even continuing to hum even when Merkor threatened (half-jokingly) to eat her. Yet over time he got used to the company, even going so far as to actually listen to that dreadful squawking... the songs of home, love, fields of flowers and sweet fruits that dripped with juice instead of blood. She sang of the ocean and the boats that could carry their weary wings far off to a distant island - somewhere they'd roost together alone. Merkor had never hoped before. Never once dreamed of anything else. Perhaps that was why they hadn't been prepared for the night the harpies escaped.

To put a long story short the pair made it to Astera, taking some time to settle in and find their place. Chani took to the theatre, while Merkor took to learning the justices of the sky. Over the next few years he would go one to make a name for himself in stopping the rogues and troublemakers above Astera, even if his methods could be described as harsh and permanent. However, you can't simply expect to get away with that sort of thing forever, could you?

Chani was found dead in their home the week the star fell. A burglary gone wrong or so he'd been told. Unsurprising, considering what they had taken was more precious to him than the entirety of Astera itself - an egg. In its place was a note blaming Merkor. Telling him it was his fault. Since then he's become harsher in his methods, having already torn apart several shady trading posts around Astera before being brought to court for a formal warning to his behaviour. It even got to the point where the Magi sent a message with a simple deal ;

Bring us the star and we will find your child.
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• Has spent most of his nights sleeping atop the clocktower, often being mistaken for a gargoyle.
• Although his diet still consists mainly of meat he's gained a particular fondness for mango.
• Prefers the presence of other harpies or feathered hybrids, being considerably more tolerant of them.

Image Credits; Hunch | Black/White

 

[Soldier of Song]

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  It's not an uncommon story: a human settlement, unwilling to share territory and resources, hires mercenaries to clear out whatever hybrid nuisance is found encroaching on their claims. Destrier fought back in an attempt to defend his tribe - but unsurprisingly, there wasn't much a young, inexperienced woodcutter could do up against a trained war band. The real surprise was that he was captured alive, not even to be sold off. The mercenaries took Destrier as a trophy, set on breaking him like any other common mustang.
  
  Their approach was constant, unceasing abuses and degradation - starting with cutting his mane and tail, the marks of a centaur's pride and masculinity in his tribe. They branded him, of course, and treated him like a glorified pack mule forced to march grueling distances until he collapsed from exhaustion. He was even subjected to the humiliation of being used as a steed once he was well and truly broken down enough. It's Destrier's greatest shame that he did eventually give up and give in, built back up as little more than a weapon and a workhorse to the mercenary company that had taken everything from him.
  
  It's hard to say when it happened, because he lost track of the years very quickly once he lost his identity, but Destrier became something like a soldier in his own right. The ferocity he displayed when let loose into clashes had earned him some sliver of respect, though it would never amount to being treated equally to his brothers-in-arms. His rank was low, the jobs he was given the ones no one else wanted - but it was a rank and responsibility in the mercenary company nonetheless as he changed between assignments and war bands like any other sellsword. Having long since buried any of his own individual thoughts and feelings, Destrier was seemingly resigned to the idea that he would only know peace once he finally died in battle.
  
  Except that rest never came. Instead, Destrier's life was once again completely upended thanks to the uncanny kindness shown to him by a fast-talking half-devil he was meant to kill. Isn't that just like one of those silver-tongued infernals, to worm their way into one's good graces just long enough to speak their temptations? The halfie promised hope, an impossible land of freedom that Destrier could know for himself - so long as he trusted the half-devil enough to let him go so that he could regroup and return in force to free the centaur right back.
  
  Maybe Destrier was foolish to take this half-devil at his word, but he did. And against all odds, the half-devil did come back for Destrier - though evidently, he'd been lying about having a posse of other myth-folk to help. What was promised to be a full fighting force rallied to back up the rescue was more like a haphazard escape under the cover of night with all the grace of a cattle-rustling, but once the sun had risen and Destrier could finally look back, he saw only miles of distance between his old life and a new one. But also, a sore-assed half-devil clambering off his horseback.
  
  They traveled to the kingdom of Astera, though by no means did it lead to a happily ever after. Destrier struggled to adjust to a society completely unlike what he'd known, to say nothing of the struggle to reconnect to his own sense of self - and then the star fell, and the uneasy peace he was only just beginning to learn was threatened to be pulled right out from under them all.
  
  Well, a mission is a mission and that, at least, is familiar to Destrier.
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  MAIN REF

  

  
  

  above art by froggyo!​

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  It's clear that Destrier's time as a mercenary left numerous scars on him. The physical ones are obvious - his body, both man and equine parts, are marred with healed wounds of various ages from blade and claw alike, as well as a brand with the symbol his old mercenary company on his left (horse)shoulder. What's more notable is a complete lack of tattoos on Destrier; those familiar with his centaur tribe would recognize that by his age, he would have amassed several by now, meant to depict his family line carried with him.
  
  The mental scars, too, make themselves apparent in the strange mannerisms of the centaur. He has developed a habit of pacing, or rocking in place if he must stay in one spot, restless and soothed only by repetitive behaviors. He never uncovers himself in front of others, and despite no longer being in service to a war band, still insists on wearing his tack and riding gear. Evidently, and quite unlike a centaur, he feels naked without these accouterments - in fact, Destrier is revealed to be intensely agoraphobic without the use of his blinders. That his riding bit gives him something to chew and bite, another self-soothing habit, is certainly helpful.
  
  All of this taken in, Destrier could almost be seen as a pitiable figure - almost, but this is quickly overshadowed by his intimidating stature. With the body of a draft horse, built with thick limbs and a stocky, powerful physique, Destrier looms over most, even when hunched over (as he usually is). The glimpses one might catch of his yellow eyes are underscored with lines of exhaustion, but more often people tend to notice his teeth, often clenching down on his bit if not directly bared in challenge. Surprisingly, his greying beard is kept neat, just as he continues to keep his tail cropped short - Destrier takes care of himself with some degree of fastidiousness, even if he does wear mostly rags and reminders of worse times.
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  Unsurprisingly, Destrier's greatest asset is his sheer, raw strength. Incredibly heavy and powerful, he knows how to throw this weight around to his advantage, unafraid to get in close to any threats and neutralize them even with his bare hands, if need be - though his favorite "strategy" is to stomp until it stops moving. He's brutish in fights, relying on overwhelming force, shock and awe tactics, and flying into frenzies - but who can deny the results?
  
  That being said, though Destrier is naturally faster than most terrestrial beings by sheer virtue of being part horse, he is slower compared to other, non-draft centaurs and tires more quickly than his brethren. He's had his endurance tested to the limits and harshly honed, this is true, but sustained high speed or high activity will very easily exhaust him.
  
  Also, good luck getting him to climb anything. His centaur anatomy makes maneuvering in most places not specifically made for centaurs to be a logistical nightmare, in fact. He will not fit in most buildings, though that usually suits him fine. Just - don't try to relegate him to the stables.
  
  Trying to come back from the years of being treated less-than, Destrier has become hypersensitive to any slights or challenges against him, overly pre-occupied with restoring and maintaining the dignity long denied to him. But, most of all - old habits die hard. Might made right in his old world. To Destrier, it is paramount to know where everyone stands in relation to each other - having been so used to being the lowest on the totem pole, if he sees he can take an inch he will widen that to a mile, often becoming rather aggressive and domineering out of fear of losing perceived status. He struggles greatly with the idea that not all relationships are made up of hierarchy and a constant push-and-pull.
  
  That being said, he fortunately tends to defer to others first, showing a strange obedience that is surprising until one remembers he was a lowly soldier. He is reticent to make decisions and share his thoughts, or even speak up at all, most times. This often gives the mistaken impression that Destrier is a simple, stupid beast, but that silence is often a cover for keen observance, his restless pacing an opportunity to take in more details and stay always on alert.
  
  Destrier has another source of gathering knowledge. He would have been a spiritualist in his tribe, had he been able to stay and learn how to cultivate his gift for communing with the dead. Unfortunately, though the voices of his ancestors rarely come to him now, he is still able to make the occasional connection with a spirit or, if given the materials for it, call forth an omen read from ashes. The readings are vague, never giving concrete details, but the more superstitious soldiers of Destrier's old war bands would begrudgingly admit that some battles bore out by the centaur's premonitions.
  
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  • "Destrier" is not his real name but a nom de guerre. His true name was left behind with his tribe.
  • His voice is very hoarse (no pun intended) from general disuse on a daily basis, to roaring like a stallion when charging into battle. Very jarring.
  • The backwards boot in one of his stirrups in a nod to the ol' riderless horse custom of fancy funerals. Probably, Destrier took one as a trophy. Boots and shoes and the like are strange to him - including horseshoes.
  • Having interacted with hardly any other mythfolk (except to do violence upon them), Destrier is still rather ignorant to a lot of the various races that exist.
  • Of the various menial positions Destrier held in his mercenary career, his absolute favorite was provost - which really just meant executioner of traitors, cowards, and prisoners of war alike. Catharsis, at least. Being a cook comes in at a close second.

template credits | main art credit

 

[Lucifer Morgenstern]

Name
Henry Valrun

Species
Spider Hybrid

Occupation
Weaver/Weaponsmith
Appearance
Human, except for the six spider legs coming out from my back, pincers, and eight eyes.
Abilities
Able to weave really well, produce amazing blades, and climb walls and ceilings.
Flaws
My spider legs hold my major arteries. When cut off, it is like slitting my throat, which is why they have armor.
Background
Long ago, I was born in what was known as the Black Woods. When people started to destroy the woods, I fought back, rallying other hybrids to help. But it was all in vain. Many of us were slain, and those who weren't were captured and executed, or fled to Astera. I was one of those survivors.
Extra Information​

I do not trust Humans, and am a loner. Kind of. When in spider form, I take the appearance of a wolf spider. When certain parts are transformed, while others are not, that is the appearance they take. As a full spider, the top of my back is at 6 foot even. As a human, I am 5' 10", with fully black clothing, and look around 15 years of age, unblemished except for a scar across my left eye, similar to Scar from the lion king.​

 

[peachiie]

Aurelia Kwentis - 24 - Student of the Arcane

Aurelia has lived a life of priviledge and it shows in her general looks and deameanor. She has soft features, soft hands unmarred by scars or blemishes and a lithe body that shows she hasn't had to physically work hard for much in her life. She's been called pretty or doll-like by others, with sea green eyes that much her dark hair. her one trait she dislike are her eyebrows, a petty dislike but they've always been lighter than her hair and she hates it. A year ago she got runes tattooed on her her face but she always forgets they're there unless someone points them out to her.

Teacher and student, Aurelia spends her days teaching the younger students of the academy and, of course, with her nose buried in books continuing her learning. She also ocassionally plays secretary for her father, helping him out with some of his own work. Primarily she spends her mornings with the children and the rest of the day on her own or with her father. She has no need to make money, and tends to do things for her own enjoyment.


Trained in most forms of magic, Lightning and Ice are her bread and butter. She has a tendency to also use telekinesis for the most minor things ( picking up books, to do minor tasks ) but lightning and ice are what she truly focuses her time on. She has a bad habit of only relying on her magic and nothing else, not having much interest in anything else.


Personality wise Aurelia is a rather quiet person unless she's around her students or those she's close too. She has a tendency to be in her own world and can seem oblivious at times. Her best trait is the fact she tries her best to be kind to everyone she meets, seeing no reason to look down on others because of their background or status. She shows her kindness with actions more than words, is the type to randomly put a blanket on someone's shoulders cause they're cold without a word, or bring someone lunch if she notices them skipping it. She's also loyal to a fault, and tends to never go against someone she gave her loyalty too, always seeing them in a golden light. Around those she's close too she turns into a bit of a chatterbox and can ramble for up to an hour, espeically if it's something she's interested in.


The Magi Council's golden girl, Aurelia is the daughter of one of the magi and grew up around the magi and has been involved in the school for as long as she can remember. Her father and the other in her life have been training her and teaching her with magic her entire life. She grew up priviledges and free to do whatever she wanted within reason. Her father, Tomaris Kwentis, is known to be an overly gruff man who tends to intimidate everyone he comes across, but he has a known soft spot for his daughter, and she just knows him as the man who always has a soft look or a smile when she's around.


Random Facts :
- 5'4
- a good cook when she feels like it
- loves fashion and also collecting knick-knacks
- has two cats at home

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