The Legend of Renalta (Updated: 03-06-2016)

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Brovo, Dec 12, 2015.

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  1. Status: Not recruiting at present time. Invitation can be requested if a slot opens up, as private recruiting will be the only method of acquiring new players for a while. (Total: 17/16 Taken.)

    You can find the IC thread here.

    Legend of Renalta has a Discord Channel, where you can talk with other players, strangers, or the GM whenever you'd like. Link here.

    • “Come one, come all, to listen to a tale that has defined an era! Listen to my words, and perhaps pay me a few pity pittances! I seek only to entertain, and perhaps to inform, upon a simple tale, that many of you already know. Whether thou was born in the religious zealotry of Rheinfeld, the open fields of farmer's villas, the dark and isolating Liveria, or even the detestable but cunning slavers of the desert Free Holds... All have likely heard this tale, but, alas, I shall speak of it once again. The most important tale of our time, be it myth or fact none of us shall know beyond... The Legend of Renalta.

      Over a thousand years ago, there once stood a marvellous kingdom known as Renalta. A shining metropolis, a beacon of civilization, tolerance, and hope. There, magical studies were pursued with great fervour, and people were free to speak their minds. The royalty ruled with a merciful hand, the crops were plentiful, and all races, all peoples, were seen as equal. This marvellous land, however, 'twas not meant to last. Not under the vision of the Gods... Not under their spite. Yet, I get ahead of myself, do I not? Let us continue.

      Once upon a time, three princesses were born to the royal family of Renalta. Myria, Kouri, and Kyri. Myria was to inherit the state, Kouri to inherit the responsibility of priesthood, and Kyri of the military. Between the three, Kouri was said to have an utterly legendary beauty; an irresistible look. One that drew the envious eyes of many suitors, who but remained quiet, for the chaste nature of a priestess made them hold their tongues. Yet, one day, Myria vanished, leaving Kouri to become the direct inheritor to the throne. The disappearance of her older sibling led the royal family to pull the remaining two sisters deep within the castle, to protect them, until they were old enough to step out on their own.

      That time came, when Kouri was seventeen, and Kyri fifteen. During this time, the princess of legend had spent many hours apprenticing in the arts of magic: Ice magic, to be more specific. Her intelligence, her power, her youth, and her beauty, brought suitors from all corners of the world. From the most distant of lands where none had ever even heard a whisper, to the most powerful of nobles. Even women sometimes tried to proposition the often beleaguered princess, who was free to reject them, to seek out her own heart's desires.

      Shortly after turning nineteen, a new archangel was christened and promoted among the Heavens. His name was Typhon... A name that many of you listening now, know with either great reverence, or great fear. Becoming an archangel, of course, gave him the right to choose one reward with which he could cherish forever, for the act of becoming an archangel is not one of ease. He descended upon the world to the sound of trumpets, with great numbers of cherubs following him, and holy light draping his large figure. His features, handsome. His power, significant. His ambition, unlimited.

      He, however, was lonely, and wished for the company of one he considered an equal to himself. That one, he decided, was no angel, no god or goddess. No, that one, was but a mere mortal... Princess Kouri, of Renalta. One whom he had been watching with interest from above, for years, but who had not been in a position to act upon such interest until this point. With purest grace, he stepped forth into the large throne room, and kneeled before the princess. With but a single sentence, he spoke with such gravitas as to shake the very foundations of their souls.

      “Will thou taketh my hand, and join with me in immortality above?”

      The princess was taken aback, and abruptly declined his offer. He stayed for a day, and attempted to woo her with gifts, and singing, and demonstrations of his power, but none of these things drew her in. She knew what she wanted, and 'twas not the bluster of this person. Not this great archangel, who grew infuriated, and who departed for the Heavens.

      That following night, just minutes prior to the apocalypse itself opening upon them all, a warning came. Some say it was an angel who did not see the justice in this act. Others say it was simple gut feeling intuition from a mage. Regardless, Kouri was quickly evacuated from the capital by the most elite of the King's Rangers and Mage's Guild members. As they rode away, it is said that the princess could hear the distant screams of her people, as a horde of the Heaven's angels came, led by Typhon, to destroy her kingdom.

      An unprovoked attack, that resulted in the disappearance of the princess. Typhon never found her body, and raged even harder than he had before. His rage, so lacking control, resulted in further attacks against neighbouring towns. Many millions paid the price for a simple shunning. All across the land, even in religious enclaves, there were riots, and uprisings. The beginnings of a new dark age, had arrived. One of blood, one of sorrow, one of pain. One that dragged all the mortal races backward for hundreds of years. Even the Heavens seemed unusually crippled to act, as when Typhon returned, their acts upon the world became quite limited. Weakened, by their massive use of power, and their lack of unity on whether what the King of Gods commanded Typhon to do, was just, or unjust.

      Even now, a thousand years later, based on this story... Be it fable, or truth, faith is weakened, and split into different groups and churches. No longer is there a united belief in the Gods, but only in particular Gods. No longer do the Gods seem so unlimited in power, now, their every move is calculated, as though they are reeling, feuding, and struggling to maintain their own unity... Even now, there are whispers of secretive groups, who maintain vigil over the hiding place of the princess. A princess, who is trapped in time, frozen, waiting for the right opportunity to rise up... One could not wish for a better time than this.

      Yet, as I speak to thee, fine members of this now growing crowd, I must say: I know nought whether this story speaks truth, or falsehood. I know only that it is old, and with many old fables, there are both truths and lies woven into every word... Perhaps I'll speak more, if given but enough to eat soundly for the day...”


      Above are the words of many storytellers across the span of hundreds of years. Now, however, this story shall slowly prove true: The princess does live, and she is about to awaken to a world far removed from her own. She will need allies, and though some few still serve her cause, such allies will need to be found from all walks of life. Not an army, for an army would be ripped apart, but a small group of those with adventuring spirit.

      You will soon reach a pond, and deep within, will lie something that will change your future, and that of the world, forevermore... If you should choose to walk this path. Will you step forward, aid the princess, and change the world? Or will you continue on your way, to another tale, and leave this one to its fate without your aid?

      1. No Godmoding: This should be obvious. An act of Godmoding is defined as creating a character who is essentially unkillable unless they are literally fighting a God. You can be a skilled warrior, or a wizened wizard, but please don't go so far off into the power curve that the only thing that could reasonably stop you would be a God. :ferret:
      2. No Metagaming: This is more of a soft rule. This is essentially that you don't automatically know everything someone else knows. That's lame. How can you develop a relationship with someone if you can just assimilate their thoughts like you're a discount Facebook Borg collective?
      3. No Autohitting/Hijacking: DON'T write “I hit George.” DO write “I attempt to strike George.” Never assume what the other person will write for them. If you want to write a conversation or a quick set of actions, just do a collaborative post. If you don't know what those are, ask in the OOC.
      4. Be Mature: This roleplay features some pretty hardcore grey world stuff. Themes include but are not limited to: Religion, sexuality, personal identity, vengeance versus justice, brainwashing, torture, messiah-hood, slavery, serfdom, mass murder, genocide, xenocide, and mental instability. If you can't handle someone disliking your character, or having your character lose some fights, this is not the role play for you.
      5. Seriously, Be Mature: If you have a problem with someone or something, voice it in the OOC. Aim for tolerance, forgiveness, compassion, and mutual understanding. If your response to a problem is to rip through the OOC screeching like a banshee and flinging shit, I'll drop kick your ass out of the RP so far that NASA will be able to watch you leave orbit. I don't have time to be your babysitter, neither does anyone else in this role play.
      6. The GM's Word Is Law: I'm basically the God above Gods in this role play. At any point, I can do whatever I want. I can break any of my own rules on a whim, as necessary to resolve a situation. If two players can't resolve a dispute, I will, and I have a reputation for murdering player characters by the bucketload, so you probably won't like my solutions. This is also so that I can throw obstacles at you that you will be forced to work around, rather than simply ignore all the time. (Again, only if necessary. If you take losses and failures yourself, I'll be less likely to act against you. This is mainly an anti-Mary Sue measure. If you write a good character that sometimes fucks up, I won't likely act against you much. :ferret:)
      7. Prove you've read the rules here by typing “Kouri Plushie” somewhere in your sheet. Before anyone asks, yes. Kouri Plushies exist in-universe.
      8. You may have noticed there are two kinds of player slots: Core & Extended. Core slots only go to players who I have previous experience with and trust to perform well in the setting. Extended slots can go to anyone, though it won't be a first come first serve basis. Instead, it will be based on how effectively you have constructed your character. IE: Quality over quantity, folks.
    • Ah, so you've decided to bring yourself to this adventure, have you? Crossed beyond the veil to make this journey? Then let me be your guide. From here on out, you may call me Fate, and I will help you to understand how to get started here. There are no stats, or traits, but some information is required for me to imbue your soul within the right body. Wouldn't want to accidentally put you into the body of a cat now, would we?

      Entry Point: Book 1, Druid's Coven. (DO NOT DELETE THIS. Leave it as it is, intact on your CS, it will be important later in the story.)
      Name: (Your name. Who are you?)
      Age: (How old are you. You cannot be younger than 16 to go on this adventure, Kouri will not employ child soldiers.)
      Sex: (Male? Female? Something else entirely, perhaps?)
      Appearance: (Text, image, or a mix of both will do. If you use an image, please source where you found it, if you can. Be nice to artists you're stealing from. :ferret:)

      Fate looks you over, and nods with approval. She starts to design your body, and motions to you to continue inputting further information.

      Strengths: (What do you do well? Below are three examples. You can have as many as you like, but remember that the more strengths you have, the easier it will be for you to enter Godmoding territory.)
      • Deterministic: I never give up!
      • Trained In Swordsmanship: I can swing a blade effectively, and cut things asunder!

      Weaknesses: (What do you do poorly? Below are three examples. Note that mental weaknesses are not as strong as physical ones. You can have as many as you like, but remember that if you cripple yourself with weaknesses, Kouri may feel too much pity to allow you to join her.)
      • Sickly: I was born with a poor constitution and cough up blood quite often.
      • Coward: I don't want to die!
      • Poor: I was born poor and I'm not well educated. Also the rich might not like me much.

      Fate nods with appreciation, and ushers you to the final section. She then slips beside you, and whispers you to be careful about what you wish your life to be: It will have long lasting consequences, and may mean the difference between whether or not Kouri will accept you...

      King's Rangers or Kiune the Druid?: (Choose either the King's Rangers or Kiune the Druid recruitment option. Further information on the choice can be found by asking Brovo a question in the OOC, or in the related OOC post here: CLOSED SIGNUPS - The Legend of Renalta (Updated: 19-03-2016) )
      Biography: (Your history & personality. Write at least two paragraphs so I can gauge your writing. Include how you gained your listed strengths and weaknesses. Include how Kiune or the King's Rangers recruited you to help Kouri, and why.)
      Motivation: (What is your character's motivation to see the conflict resolved/work for Kouri? It doesn't have to be noble, but it has to at least be productive.)

      As you finish writing information, Fate snaps her fingers, and the scroll you were writing upon vanishes. Darkness wraps around you, and you are born into the mortal realm, without any previous memories, to begin your life...
    • Total So Far: 23.
      • Active: 13.
      • Inactive: 9.
      • Dead: 1.
      • Male: 16. (9 Active, 7 Inactive, 0 Dead.)
      • Female: 6. (4 Active, 1 Inactive, 1 Dead.)
      • Neither/Either/Both: 1. (0 Active, 1 Inactive, 0 Dead.)

      Updated to Page 17.
      Kasienka Ellarian. Author: @Seba

      Wanderer Rahim. Author: @Limeypanda

      Sisera Del Azul, son to the Steward of Renalta. Author: @Slade

      Dean Hansen. Author: @Orion

      Baldrik Larsson. Author: @West

      Kalemn Weller. Author: @HerziQuerzi

      Tahlia Wether, née Dettlef. Author: @Holmishire

      Amaia Nekane. Author: @Jorick

      Alexander Reuman. Author: @RoranHawkins

      Cennick Greenborough. Author: @Snakey

      Grothnor. Author: @Grothnor Story Entry Point: Book 1, Druid's Coven.

      Ignas Durant. Author: @Jorick Story Entry Point: Book 1, Druid's Coven.

      Chilum. Author: @Seba Story Entry Point: Book 1, Druid's Coven.

      Pat Quinn. Author: @Gat

      Jaro Kalogreant. Author: @Goldmarble

      Zhong LiWei. Author: @Soulless

      'Sergeant' Ole Fischer. Author: @Snakey

      Linston Iolin. Author: @rusty4297

      Samuel Mourn de Vandestryker en Karnarvon the 4th. Author: @Kadaeux

      Sanctus Reveniens. Author: @Kadaeux Story Entry Point: Book 1, Druid's Coven.

      Windy Goldfingers. Author: @RedWillow Story Entry Point: Book 1, Druid's Coven.

      Nar'She. Author: @Alphakoka Story Entry Point: Book 1, Druid's Coven.


    • Story: Story-related achievements. Also logs major choices the party has made, ones which will have long lasting ramifications on the story, and possibly the world.
      • In The Beginning: Survive the prologue.
        • Achieved: Samuel Mourn de Vandestryker en Karnarvon the 4th. Kasienka Ellarian. Wanderer Rahim. Sisera Del Azul, son to the Steward of Renalta. Dean Hansen. Baldrik Larsson. Kalemn Weller. Tahlia Wether née Dettlef. Amaia Nekane. Alexander Reuman. Cennick Greenborough.
      • Awakening: Survive the first book.
        • Achieved: (Prologues, Book 1.)
          • Prologues: Samuel Mourn de Vandestryker en Karnarvon the 4th. Kasienka Ellarian. Wanderer Rahim. Sisera Del Azul, son to the Steward of Renalta. Dean Hansen. Baldrik Larsson. Kalemn Weller. TAhlia Wether née Dettlef. Amaia Nekane. Alexander Reuman. Cennick Greenborough.
          • Book 1: Sanctus Reveniens. Windy Goldfingers. Grothnor. Ignas Durant. Chilum. Nar'She.
        • Decisions: These are major choices players made, or major things which occurred to players.
          • The Roads We Travel (Took The High Road): Took the high road across the mountains, denied Liveria, denied The Abyss, denied The Dark Forest.
          • Meeting with the Silver Shields (Cooperated): Decided not to betray or resist Jennifer.
          • Manifest Fear: Dean Hansen, Amaia Nekane, Tahlia Wether née Dettlef, Kouri of Renalta. These four were subjected to nightmares, and others were forced to watch...
      • Fanaticism: Survive the second book.
        • Achieved: (In Progress)
      • Sacrifice: Survive the third book.
        • Achieved:
      • Fury and Madness: Survive the fourth book.
        • Achieved:
      • Our Darkest Hour: Survive the fifth book.
        • Achieved:
      • A Kingdom Reborn: Survive the finale.
        • Achieved:

      Character-Specific: Character specific achievements. Will be more relevant as characters actually grow and learn more about each other. (Getting there, but not quite there.)


      Combat: Achievements earned as part of combat. These could be duels, or battlefield achievements.

      • Underdog: Defeat Marcus in a duel.
        • Achieved: Alexander Reuman.
      • Apprenticeship: Be tutored by Marcus.
        • Achieved: Wanderer Rahim.
      • From A Boy, To A Man: Defeat Hanus in a duel.
        • Achieved:
      • To Duel Is Privilege: Convince Kouri to duel, and then defeat Kouri in a duel.
        • Achieved:
      • More Than Fast: Defeat Mikan in a duel. Legitimately.
        • Achieved:
      • Fractured Ankle: Defeat James in a duel.
        • Achieved: Kasienka Ellarian.

      Romance: Anything to do with romantic arcs, as there are plentiful opportunities for romantic subplots.
      • The Blue Bloodline: Pursuing or pursued a romance with royalty.
        • Achieved: Samuel Mourn de Vandestryker en Karnarvon the 4th, Baldrik Larsson, Cennick Greenborough.
      • Duty Only: Expressly deny any romantic overtures toward the Princess.
        • Achieved: Amaia Nekane. Kasienka Ellarian.
      • An Exercise of Green: Welcome Mikan in for a night of... Fun.
        • Achieved: Amaia Nekane.
      • A Fox, Denied: Decline Mikan's advances for a night.
        • Achieved: Dean Hansen.
      • Heart of the Vampire Knight: Start a romance with Hanus Wolfblood.
        • Achieved: Kasienka Ellarian.

      Failure and Death: Not all are destined for glory, but some are destined to be remembered nonetheless.
      • The Ultimate Price: Die in the name of the cause.
        • Achieved: Alexandra Somer.
      • A Harsh Lesson: Be defeated in a duel. Officially.
        • Achieved: Dean Hansen. Wanderer Rahim.
      • The War Goes On: Be defeated in battle or surrender, but survive--one way or another.
        • Achieved:
      • Unfriendly Fire: Hit one of your allies by accident.
        • Achieved:
      • Purple Heart: Meet Death, spit in his face.
        • Achieved: Sisera Del Azul, son to the Steward of Renalta.
    • Below, you'll find the NPC sheets for Kouri, Mikan, Marcus, Hanus, and James. As y'all discover more about them, it'll be noted on their sheets. Keep in mind that the legends and myths surrounding Kouri may not be true. If information is intentionally being kept secret by a character, that will also be mentioned here. Finally, keep in mind that not every strength and weakness listed is necessarily true, or necessarily the total list of an NPC's abilities. They can and do hide some things from you. :ferret:

      This is not necessary reading, it is entirely optional. It's here if you need to reference something about an NPC for the IC.

      Name: Hanus Wolfblood.
      Age: ?. (Centuries.)
      Sex: Male.
      • Height: 6'2”
      • Weight: 220 LBS. (Muscular.)
      • Hair colour: White.
      • Hair style: Long and flowing to his shoulders. Kept tied back in a pony tail when combat is expected.
      • Eye colour: Red?
      • Skin colour: Black.
      • Non-Combat Dress: Silk and linen shirts and pants, most often made out of plain whites, greys, and blacks. His leather strapped boots seem well used, and well maintained, with stitching running alongside one of them implying that they have been damaged before.
      • Combat Dress: A breast plate covers his upper torso, wrapped and strapped atop a thick, hardened leather vest that reaches down to his waist. His limbs remain conspicuously bereft of defences. He carries around a simple iron helmet, which he sometimes appears to forget to put on in combat. His three weapons are two throwing axes at his waist, and a bastard sword. All three are made out of darkly hued metals, likely originating from deep within The Abyss.
      • Vampire: Hanus is a vampire of an as of yet unknown brood. He can sustain wounds that would kill normal men and has additional powers that he can bring to bear both in and out of combat.
      • Warrior Noble: His culture emphasized a warrior's life for their nobility, and as such, at the same time he was learning how to read and write, he was learning how to cut men asunder.
      • Feels No Fear: You cannot intimidate a man who has cut off all personal ties to the world and has made it his objective to die gloriously.
      • Enchanted Weapons: All three of his weapons contain enchantments of an as of yet unknown type. If examined, one could likely figure it out, but waiting until combat to see them in action is also viable.
      • Sanguine Curse: Every time he uses his powers or needs to mend his own wounds, he will need to use blood. This means that at some point, he will have to feed on others to sustain himself. Luckily, he will not spread the curse through feeding, unless he wishes to do so.
      • Boiled Iron: Sunlight weakens Hanus' powers, if he's even able to use them at all. He is also not able to mend even the simplest of wounds whilst in the direct rays of the sun, and can bleed to death even from something as small as a paper cut if given enough time out in the sun.
      • An Aura of Distrust: His Dark Elf heritage and his Vampirism make for a noxious combo that tend to cause others around to hold a great, seething discomfort around him. Some may even try to kill him on sight because of his vampirism, and will only be stopped through violence or clever diplomacy on the part of the party.
      • Bloodied Conscience: Though he speaks not why, Hanus has mentioned that he has taken many lives with his weapons with a measure of disdain. He prefers to avoid outright murder save where his opponents started the fight, and committing especially heinous actions around him will cause him to refuse to help you, perhaps even turning on you if you do something too vile.
      Biography: A Dark Elf noble, whose people hail from The Abyss. He wandered for years on the surface before he donated resources to the King's Rangers cause and possibly manpower. He is a well trained warrior, who carries weapons with magical blessings.

      [Update 1 (Kasienka Unlocked)] Hanus joined Kouri's cause out of a personal or cultural reason, known as “Osvobozhdeniye.” He seeks his own death in an honourable cause, and has sworn that if he fails to die in Kouri's cause, he will die in Kasienka's cause instead. It seems to matter little to him, so long as he dies or accomplishes great things. He has no pulse, and his skin is cold to the touch, and he has implied that he is a vampire. His eyes have the wrong colouration for vampirism: Vampires have silver eyes. Hanus has red eyes.


      Name: James Moriarty, “The Illusionist.”
      Age: ?. (Looks to be in his 20's.)
      Sex: Male.
      • Height: 5'7”
      • Weight: 130 LBS. (Lithe.)
      • Hair colour: Black.
      • Hair style: Long and often unkempt, though he can just as easily change the way it appears with magic.
      • Eye colour: Purple. (Purple is not a normal eye colour.)
      • Skin colour: Pale white.
      • Non-Combat Dress: Dyed purple linens, using dyes expensive enough to almost put into question how he ever acquired them to begin with. His pants and shirt are sturdy, made for travelling long distances, and he wears a purple cloak, that has no purpose beyond flamboyance. He also wears a purple hat, akin to a short top hat, which is unusually eccentric fashion. He keeps them clean, likely also through some form of magic.
      • Combat Dress: N/A.
      • Carnival Illusionist: Raised by a carnival, he has spent several years throughout his youth mastering the arts of illusions, both magical and non-magical.
      • Darker Arts: James knows the ways of darker arts of magic, forbidden fruits that both allow him to identify cunningly laiden traps and spells, and which allow him to create some of his own.
      • Beatrice: Who would suspect a simple crow as a spy of the skies?
      • Unburdened By Normalcy: It is very quickly and readily apparent that there are few things this man would not do in order to win. He can be expected to always serve, loyally, to whatever cause the party is committing to, regardless of its moral implications. He will also generally offer third options nobody else has thought of before.
      • Feeble: James is physically weak and it shows. He is entirely hopeless at any strength-related tasks, and he can't run far without exhausting himself.
      • Eccentric: Somewhat of an understatement, James constantly speaks of strange things that cause the peasantry to quake in fear, and the nobility to eye with distrust if he's not careful with his tongue.
      • Elitist: Though he is but a commoner himself, he sneers upon the weak, the poor, and the infirm. He can easily erode trust with such groups of people if he isn't controlled.
      Biography: An illusionist who travelled with a carnival that wandered around the Renaltan Remnants and Kingdom of Liveria. He claims to have been raised by the carnival itself. He keeps a pet around with him named Beatrice, and the two share an unusual connection.

      [Update 1 (LiWei Unlocked)] James knows how to wield darker magics, which can create animals like Beatrice, as opposed to simple illusions. He also seems to take a particular liking to crafting deals with others, in exchange for unnamed favours later.


      Name: Kouri of Renalta, Princess.
      Age: Nineteen.
      Sex: Female.
      • Height: 5'7”
      • Weight: 135 LBS. (Lithe.)
      • Hair colour: Blue. (Blue is not a normal hair colour.)
      • Hair style: Long and flowing past her shoulders, well maintained and trimmed.
      • Eye colour: Blue.
      • Skin colour: White.
      • Non-Combat Dress: Fine silk dresses, shirts, and pants adorn this fine lady's catalogue of clothing. She tends to carry multiple outfits for differing occasions, though presently keeps them strictly to three outfits: Rider's clothes, a set of commoner's garbs, and her royal dress.
        • Rider's Clothes: Dark blue silk pants and shirt, with a pair of simple, flat, leather shoes. This outfit is easily of noble quality, though falls short of outright royalty. This is best used when riding long distances on horse back, or where dresses would be inappropriate.
        • Commoner's Garbs: A plain, brown-turquoise dress, made out of a cheap combination of linen and wool. It shares the same flat, leather shoes the rider's clothes have, and even comes with a dark brown cowl, to allow her to hide her hair and most of her facial features—save her lips. She chose this outfit herself. This is best used when attempting to avoid attention from other people.
        • Royal Dress: Made of some of the highest quality silk in the world, and dyed with a blue that refuses to falter to dust or age. Kouri's dress has gold lining the cuffs, and was measured to fit her and accentuate her physical attractiveness. It is auspiciously without any heraldry, making it passable as an extraordinarily expensive fashion item owned by a noble woman, as opposed to royalty outright. It also comes with a small box, whose contents are unknown, and which Kouri protects from prying eyes.
      • Combat Dress: N/A.
      • Stunning: Kouri is attractive beyond normal measures of attractiveness, to a level that is outright unnatural and unobtainable to most people without some form of magic. This sometimes makes enemies hesitate to harm her in combat, and serves as a useful tool for convincing fence-sitters to side with her over someone else. (Does not apply to PC's. Your character can decide if she's pretty or not for themselves.)
      • Born to the Purple: She has legitimate claims to royalty, and it's not overly difficult for her to prove it, so long as the appropriate testing apparatus (ex: magic) is around. Most enemies will also prefer to take her alive, refusing to deal death blows to her if they can help it, should they know her identity.
      • Political Mastermind: More than anything else, Kouri was raised with the skills necessary to navigate complex social trees with grace and deftness. She's fully capable of lying, maintaining disguises, and interacting with nobility with ease.
      • Ice Magic: Highly skilled in the art of magic involving the element of ice, she can create and destroy it with ease. The way she uses it, this allows her great defensive capacity, and some limited offensive capacity. It's flexible, and can be used to aid allies, inhibit enemies, or protect herself.
      • Theory...: Able to read and write masterfully in multiple languages, with a deep understanding of many of the intellectual topics. She grew up surrounded by thousands of tomes of knowledge and dozens of mentors, and can quickly learn new topics on the fly.
      • ... Without Practice: Between a thousand years frozen and a lack of real world exposure from spending most of her time in her castle, she has little experience applying her knowledge to the world. In short: She's smart, but naive.
      • Born to the Purple: Kouri is beautiful. Kouri has a royal bloodline, with its own unique properties—some of which may even be more than simple cosmetics. Kouri, if successful in her quest, is heir to a throne of an entire nation. There are the less than savoury out there who would be happy to take advantage of this for their own manipulative ends. Some further unhinged still, who would be more than happy to force her to service their own desires. It is not only angels who can suffer from deranged desire.
      • Enemy of the State: Kouri's mere existence makes her an enemy of the state of Rheinfeld, making it difficult for her to engage in social interactions without sufficient disguises. Even then, every interaction risks discovery.
      • Pure Mage: Kouri has only learned how to be offensive and defensive with magic, nothing else. Anti-magic will cause her great struggle and magic resistance will make it difficult for her to harm opponents. This also means she has little to no skill with melee or ranged weapons.
      • Depression: Though she tries her best to hide it, sorrow permeates her every step and shadows her every thought. It is possible for her to mentally break for brief periods of time that render her ability to socialize or engage in combat far more ineffective.
      Biography: A skilled magician and politician who awoke from a long slumber to seek vengeance against the Gods. Much of her history is known only through ancient tales, several points of which are falsehoods or exaggerations. She's well educated, and by noble standards, well bred. Her blue hair is an oddity, being her natural hair colour, and yet unnatural among humanity. Equally strange is her unnatural allure: She possesses a quality of beauty that goes above and beyond even preening, which both acts for and against her on a regular basis.

      She carries a great deal of sorrow with her, and does her best to suppress it.

      [Update 1 (Kasienka Unlocked)] Kouri is prudish by nature, and becomes quite flushed with embarrassment and irritation when others dress scantily or disrobe themselves within her presence.

      [Update 2 (Baldrick Unlocked)] To defeat the Gods, Kouri ultimately plans on heading north: Beyond Rheinfeld, beyond the Free Holds, to an unnamed land of ice and snow. There, a temple lies which will allow Kouri to perform a magical ritual to end the threat of the Gods. The ritual itself she has kept secret to herself, as well as the details about the temple.


      Name: Marcus [Secret].
      Age: ? (Looks to be in his late 40's.)
      Sex: Male.
      • Height: 5'10”
      • Weight: 190 LBS (Muscular)
      • Hair colour: Dark Brown.
      • Hair style: Military cut short.
      • Eye colour: Brown.
      • Skin colour: Red.
      • Non-Combat Dress: ? (He's never been seen outside of his armour/makes a conscious effort never to be caught without it.)
      • Combat Dress: Plate mail adorns this man's form, from the shoulders down is every imaginable piece one could acquire. He also keeps a helmet around with him, and in dangerous areas, he dons it without question. It obscures his face when worn, and limits his vision. Under most circumstances, he usually just keeps it in a supply bag. He wears a thick and large cape, which he can wrap around himself to protect himself from cold elements, or to disguise his armour at a distance and surprise opponents with it at long range. It has a hood, which he usually keeps on, to avoid drawing ire for his race.

        As for weapons, he keeps a two handed sword slung to his back, an arming sword at his waist, and a shield strapped to his arm. He is, in every way imaginable, a walking juggernaut, and taking off all of his armour takes a few minutes.
      • Veteran: Battle hardened from more fights than he can even particularly care to remember, Marcus is able to think both tactically and personally on the fly, issuing orders in the head of combat with no fret or penalty.
      • Martial Master: Has trained with several different weapons both melee and ranged, and though he has his favourites, he is technically able to use pretty much any weapon he gets his hands on with some degree of skill. Atop this, he's also able to calculate and counter enemies using weapons he's at least somewhat familiar with.
      • Mentor: He is quite knowledgeable and can pass this knowledge quickly onto others, training weaker members of the party in martial combat and thus improving their odds of success.
      • Tiefling Heritage: Marcus is more resistant to corrupting influence, can better detect corrupting influences, and is immune to charm effects. Succubi, mages, and vampires beware, Marcus ain't having none of your shit.
      • The Twilight Hours: Marcus is nearing the end of his usefulness in war. He's middle aged, approaching elderly. He fatigues faster as a result, and injuries sustained in combat are more debilitating than they would normally be for someone with youthful vigour.
      • Cold as Steel: Marcus makes no hint of hiding his callousness for emotional pain where it concerns Kouri. He might be able to see past it for others on their travels, but he will have little more than contempt for those who fall to sorrow, anger, or other emotions. He expects discipline.
      • Tiefling Heritage: Having demonic influences in one's bloodline is not exactly a winning lottery ticket for social acceptance. Though not as severe as vampirism, it will not be looked upon well by many. As well, attacks made by Angels and Aasimar can burn and even blind Marcus.
      • Not Mage nor Templar: Marcus does not use magic and he has no resistance to magic, aside from that which is granted by his heritage. He struggles against mages without proper support, even if he has a ranged weapon.
      Biography: Marcus is a tiefling who joined the King's Rangers as a youth under violent circumstances. He has served with apparent distinction, though he appears to have past incidents with Gregory, the commander of the King's Rangers. Regardless, he commands great respect from most of the other King's Rangers. He is a skilled warrior, though his age is catching up with him. Beyond that, there's little known about this man, beyond his strong loyalty for Kouri and her cause.


      Name: Mikan [Secret].
      Age: ? (Looks to be in her late teens.)
      Sex: Female.
      • Height: 6'1”
      • Weight: 165. (Athletically slender, but not quite lithe.)
      • Hair colour: Black.
      • Hair style: Tied back in a pony tail, which drapes down the back of her neck freely. Her bangs remain, though maintained to prevent them from blinding her in the midst of combat.
      • Eye colour: Green.
      • Skin colour: White.
      • Non-Combat Dress: A simple mix of linen and leathers. Leather shorts which end just above her knees, and a linen shirt, both beige and unremarkable, though the shirt has no sleeves, showing off the remarkably surprising amount of lean muscle she has. She keeps her shirt tucked into her shorts, and wears a leather belt synched tightly around her waist. The belt has several, exaggerated loops, for holding various things. Around her elbows and knees are hardened leather pads, which she uses for more acrobatic maneuverings in harsh environments.
      • Combat Dress: She wears no armour in battle, instead opting to avoid direct attention, though her boots have metal plates embedded into them which can cause a surprising amount of pain. She keeps a few surprising devices in hidden pockets and in one of her supply bags, which she uses typically to escape, but sometimes to confuse opponents. She has a half a dozen throwing knives, which she sometimes hides on her person, or sometimes makes plain for others to see wrapped in the loops on her belt, which she can pull out and throw within a second if necessary. Should all else fail, she has two short swords sheathed on each side of her waist, which she can duel wield with.
      • Sneaky: Look away for a moment, and she can slip away from your sight silently. She can also “acquire” many things the party might need, so long as they're near civilization and don't ask where it came from.
      • Incredibly Dexterous: Mikan's got incredible agility and flexibility, and she can run, jump, slip, roll, climb, and lash out in unpredictable ways. There are no environments she can't find a way to fight effectively on or around.
      • Seductress: A devilish tongue and lovely voice can carry one quite far into the bedrooms of nobility, distract guards, and otherwise allow her to gain access to places and information that one would normally not be allowed to see.
      • A Purse Snatcher's Eyes: She can notice things that most others would overlook, and can usually find weaknesses in enemy defences, maneuverings, or otherwise, that others miss. It's hard to sneak up on a professional sneak, too.
      • Energetic: Between her lifestyle and her natural inclinations, Mikan can typically last longer than others in most physical activities, so long as it isn't pushing her past her limits.
      • Prone to Panic: If Mikan sincerely feels that she's going to die, she's far more prone to throwing away everything she has to escape from harm, even if it would compromise the safety of an ally.
      • Lean: She's got stamina, not strength. If she's pinned or struck with something heavy, she's not likely getting back up without a stroke of luck or a mistake on the part of the enemy.
      • Law Breaker: Whether you ask for it or not, she's liable to try and snatch things that catch her eye. Unless stopped, she may cause trouble with the locals, wherever she is.
      • Ignorant of Magic: Having grown up in the theocratic anti-magic state of Rheinfeld, she's fairly unaware of what magic can do to people, beyond “hurt a lot.” While she's able to spot more obvious forms of magic and attempt to avoid them (fireballs), more insidious forms of magic may take her entirely off guard (mind control, charm, sleep, illusions, et cetera).
      • Edu... What?: Mikan grew up on the street, she has no formal education. Beyond basic mathematics (currency), she has no idea how to do upper class things. Like reading, and writing, and poetry.
      Biography: Mikan was born in Rheinfeld in what can only be presumed to be destitute poverty. She is illiterate, and makes no secret that she is fleeing something, but is not indicating what it is. She's a skilled pickpocket and sneak, and gleefully flirts and even engages in acts of coitus with a sort of wild abandon not befitting even of the peasantry. She is more than she seems.
    • Here is a section dedicated to bookmarking various important points in the story. They are divided into the following categories: Books, Chapters. Books represent entire plot arcs, while chapters represent individual points of note in those arcs. There are no length requirements or limits to these: Chapters can vary wildly in distance to each other.

      This is primarily here so nostalgia can be had without having to dig through dozens of pages of the IC. It's also neat to see how far the story has progressed over time, and gives a direct view into what choices the player characters have influenced or even directly made themselves.

      Note that these summaries do not at all include everything that happened.

      Book 1: Awakening
      1. A Legend Reborn (link): Princess Kouri stirs from her slumber, and the story begins.
      2. Mythic Princess (link): Princess Kouri awakens from her slumber and breaks free from one thousand years in her frozen state. Dean, Mikan, and Kasienka all directly witness this, as she freezes over the pond above her to escape. Others in the area of the pond, drawn by the magical pulse or noises coming from the area, witness this phenomena.
      3. A Questionable Legacy (link): A King's Ranger known as Marcus recognizes Kouri's awakening and her assertion as the legitimate heiress to the throne of the kingdom of legend, however he requires her to pass a test first. She accepts the test of her legitimacy, and declares to everyone around that she is real. Sisera--Kouri's old advisor--manages to stumble onto the scene in time to meet her again, resulting in a short but happy reunion. Some believe Kouri immediately, while others have their doubts. Samuel declares his intentions for her hand, and Baldrick proclaims her as the messiah.
      4. The King's Forgotten Rangers (link): After a few hours of travelling, Kouri finds herself in the base of the King's Rangers, with many who had followed her. The commander greets her with a steeled and serious set of skepticism and accusations, which Kouri denies time and again. Kouri is nearly driven to tears by the critical accusations levied by Amaia, but remains stalwart. There are rumblings from the dark, as ancient powers stir upon the potential imbalance of power that the princess represents...
      5. The Test of Legitimacy (link): Kouri's legitimacy is tested with a magical blood test, while a well trained illusionist watches over the process. After passing, Kouri requests the night alone to rest and grieve, while the once doubtful commander sets about to planning the next move without question. Multiple characters go to practice duels. LiWei strikes a deal with James the Illusionist. Mikan flirts with people, and Hanus prepares supplies. Marcus duels with people, attempting to be a mentor, but ending up creating a rift between himself and Dean. Some find themselves in an alien place, while others fit in with ease.
      6. Speed, or Stealth? (link): After having a bath and a good morning meal, four routes to her future destiny are presented to Kouri, and she is left pondering, attempting to figure out which one would be the best choice. Others offer her their advice on which path to choose...
      7. Faith Manages (link): After listening to the advice of her comrades and followers, Kouri measures the consequences for taking any of the four routes. She eventually chooses to take the wild path crossing the mountains, after feeling it too terrible a price to risk the lives of elven children, and finding the other two choices untenable. The group prepares to move out, and gathers last minute supplies.
      8. Path to the Mountains (link): Kouri and her party leave for the mountains. Upon arriving, she inquires for those with military experience to help her figure out what to look for among the mountains, and it's decided to remain within the valleys and avoid the caverns filled with orcs. Meanwhile, Typhon captures and tortures prisoners, attempting to discern Kouri's whereabouts.
      9. The Veteran's Advice (link): Kouri and Alexander speak together about how best to proceed, and Kouri settles bickering between Marcus and Hanus to establish a plan. A scouting group leads the main group along, though the main group ends up encountering a body that the scouting group did not. The scouting group, meanwhile, sees conflict ahead, between a group of orcs and a much smaller group of humans: Some kind of duel...
      10. Ambush! (link): The main group is ambushed by a small band of orcs and is forced to fight, while the scouting group watches the duel. The humans beat the orcs. The orcs leave, and the group meets the duelist and her band of followers, who are in fact, Silver Shields--humans who hunt vampires and demons, who are fervent followers of the Gods. Their leader is named Jennifer.
      11. It's All So Rapid... (link): The battle continues, though some end up injured. Marcus is left barking orders, Kasienka depletes herself of all her magic protecting Kouri, and Sisera is left brutally wounded against a tree. Kouri is left vulnerable to three charging orcs, with only Baldrik to protect her.
      12. Shellshock (link) The battle ends. Multiple members of the party end up wounded. Kouri finds herself faltering to panic and sorrow beside a badly injured Sisera, but Kasienka barely manages to bring Kouri back to a mentally stable state. Jennifer of the Silver Shields wishes to investigate the sounds of combat, though Mikan tries to slow her down. Jennifer strikes Mikan for her impurity and impudence, and is finally convinced by Rahim to slow enough to allow them to scout ahead for the Silver Shields.
      13. Calm, or Storm? (link): Dean leads a tense talk with Jennifer, to see if they would need to engage in an ambush. She reveals her mission as one of protection for those crossing the valley while an angel searches for Kouri, though Jennifer doesn't recognize Kouri upon seeing her. Jennifer demands that she be allowed to perform her duty and protect the group through the valley, and Kouri capitulates. Some question this of her, and many express their doubts, putting further pressure on her immediately after her mental episode. The group gets ready to travel again, with Kouri barely holding it together.
      14. Proven Worthy (link): The group gathers together and follows Jennifer. Sisera's wounded form is carried by Samuel by request of Kouri. They are led into a trap by Typhon, who is denied his opportunity to end them all as a mysterious force--a demigod known as Kiune the Druid--rescues them and brings them to her realm.
      15. Introspection & The Training Grounds (link): Kouri and Hanus have a heart to heart. Hanus becomes Kouri's first knight. Marcus prepares and trains people in practice duels, while Mikan sleuths about the mansion and tries to learn more about it.
      16. Darkness and Fear (link): Kouri and the rest of the group are taken to a series of nightmares in their sleep, created on another realm by Kiune to test them all.
      17. The Animals of Slumber (link): Kouri, Dean, Tahlia, and Amaia all become the subjects of terrible nightmares composed of their fears, while the others--divided into small groups--attempt to rescue them. Upon passing their tests, each member of the group is given one secret--should it be within Kiune's power to know.
      18. New Day, New Allies (link): Kiune brings new allies to the party as they recover from their nightmare experiences. Dark forces plan out a new trap for the heroes...
      19. Autumn, Winter, Spring (link): Typhon invades Kiune's realm, and she sacrifices herself to allow the party to escape--destroying her realm in the process. The party descends the side of an exploding mountain, and escapes into the foothills--where they arrive in Rheinfeld.

      Book 2: Fanaticism
      1. Abandoned Home (link): The party arrives in Rheinfeld, in a forest with an abandoned home. There, they start to plan their next moves...

    #1 Brovo, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Aug 25, 2016

    • Name: Amaia Nekane
      Age: 26
      Sex: Female
      Appearance Image

      • Small Blades for Big Jobs: Daggers and throwing knives can kill things just as well as a sword if you know how to use them. Amaia is quite familiar with their uses.
      • Like Unto Shadows: Amaia is trained and highly practiced in the art of stealth. If she doesn't want to be seen, odds are you'll never know she's there.
      • Fighting Fire With Fire: When hunting magical prey, sometimes it's good to have some magic on your side to even the odds. Amaia has learned some fairly simple magic to temporarily imbue weapons with magical effects. Currently she can wreath them in flames, empower them with the speed of wind, and harden them with the sturdy might of the earth. These effects only last for about a minute and she can't use more than one at a time. She can also do other tiny feats of elemental magic, like lighting a candle with a bit of flame, but that's basically as useful as it gets if she's not enchanting a weapon.
      • Nimble Hands: Not only is Amaia fairly quick with her blades, she's also developed a skill for sleight of hand with cards and other small objects. Her agile fingers also come in handy for picking pockets and locks when required. Fun fact: one of the first things she stole as a child was a Kouri plushie.
      • The Dance of Battle: As far as Amaia is concerned, the best defense is to simply avoid getting hit. She has worked hard to learn the art of dodging attacks, and the fact that she's still alive after going toe to toe with a variety of the foul beasts of the world is a testament to this skill.
      • Fleet of Foot: Amaia knows how to get from point A to point B effectively and quickly, no matter what is in the way; it's more or less a necessary skill when you're going up against people and things that can tear up the earth or run along rooftops or hide in dense forests. Whether it's simple flat out sprinting or running and jumping and climbing and tumbling to get past things, Amaia can do it quickly.
      • Relentless Hunter: The first part of monster slaying is hunting the damn things down. This might involve asking people around town about strange occurrences or breaking into a building to get some information a person would not part with or tracking a fleeing target for weeks through all manner of terrain or something else entirely. Whatever it requires, Amaia has been through it all and has become pretty damn good at gathering information and tracking things down.

      • Xenophobe: If it's not a human or damned close to it, Amaia probably doesn't like it. Elves and dwarves are okay, drow straddle the line, and things like orcs and goblins are absolutely not acceptable company. She can tolerate their presence for an extended period, but not without making her distaste very clear.
      • Monster Slayer's Zeal: On top of the more mundane xenophobia, Amaia also despises vampires, werewolves, and other monstrous things that take the guise of humans and whatnot. Plain old monsters are just annoyances to be put away, not things worthy of actual emotions like hatred; she saves that for the things that hide and pretend to be something other than the monsters they truly are. She can tolerate their presence if there are more important things to worry about and other non-monstrous people convince her to not dispose of the creature(s), but she'll always be waiting for her moment to rid the world of another enemy of humanity.
      • Acrophobia: Though she would never admit it outright, Amaia is afraid of heights. She might be able to push past it, depending on the exact circumstances, but she'd rather crawl her way through miles of dank and dangerous tunnels than take a relatively safe mountain pass.
      • Terrified of Templars: Amaia knows that her chosen profession of monster slaying would likely not deter a zealous Templar from branding her a witch and killing her. She also knows that a heavily armored foe with a huge weapon is a nightmare for her to deal with thanks to her chosen fighting style, let alone one that could negate her magic use. She avoids known Templars like the plague, and to a lesser extent she also avoids and fears people from Rheinfeld in general.
      • Enemies in Liveria: The people of Liveria don't look kindly on those who lay with and defend witches. The witch hunters and quite a few others in Liveria were very glad to see Amaia leave, and those who remember her nowadays probably don't think any better of her thanks to the passage of time. Some might just despise her, but others could very well wish to see her dead should they cross paths again.
      • Sins of the Flesh: For all her hate and fear of certain types of people and creatures, Amaia does have a soft spot that gets her into trouble sometimes. If she finds someone attractive she's liable to believe their lies and forgive even rather heinous faults, including forsaking her profession and letting a monster go unharmed because they're just too pretty to kill. She always beats herself up about it afterward, but she just can't help it sometimes.
      • Humble Origins: Amaia was born amongst the peasantry of Liveria. She managed to crawl out of that life, but not through the most respectable of means. Killing monsters doesn't always pay well, so she still sometimes has to resort to lying, cheating, and stealing to survive. Those of higher birth and those who look down upon thievery and deception will very likely dislike her if they learn or recognize these things about her.
      • Mostly Illiterate: Thanks to her peasant background, Amaia was only ever taught the basics of reading, and that rather late in life. She can recognize letters and some small words, but anything longer than 5 letters is almost certainly a lost cause.
      • Lightly Armored: Amaia goes into battle wearing cloth and plain leather, enough to maybe pad a blunt strike a bit but not enough to stop blades or claws or arrows. If her dodging skills fail her she'll be in deep trouble.

      Biography: Amaia grew up in a not-so-good part of the capital city of Liveria, one of the many peasants who scraped by in life with just enough to live but not enough to really be happy about it. Her parents instilled in her the good old Liverian values of distrusting others and hating inhuman creatures, plus warnings against consorting with witches and monsters lest the witch hunters or the big bad Templars put her to a bloody end. They did an admirable job of instilling fear into the child, but they ended up doing a fairly poor job in the general morals department. They died when she was still a girl, just two of the many victims of a sickness that swept through the city like wildfire. Amaia didn't have anywhere to go, so she was left to fend for herself like so many other orphans in the city. She learned the ropes from older kids: how to steal food, how to pick pockets, how to break into buildings, how to trick fools out of their money with cards and other games, how to get away from trouble unseen, and how to use a knife in case trouble caught up to her anyway.

      These skills served her well enough to survive, and that was more than a lot of people could say. Amaia saw many of her street rat friends slain as criminals after getting caught one to many times, and she saw a few pick the wrong target to steal from and end up with a blade through their chest, but she simply took those as warnings, learning experiences, and motivations. Her main goal in life at that time was to get out of that kind of life, and her opportunity came in the form of a kindly witch hunter named Izar. Amaia was never sure whether the old woman saw something that hinted at her aptitude for the work or simply took pity on the gaunt girl of fifteen years who tried to pick her pocket, but in the end the reason didn't really matter.

      Izar took the child off the streets and tried to turn her into a respectable hunter of evil. She succeeded in the hunter of evil part, but she ended up giving up on the respectable part after much wasted effort and stuck to just teaching the girl as best she could. Amaia was taught how to do a lot of things in those years with Izar: fighting with small blades, sneaking effectively, using her frowned upon skills of picking locks and pockets for good aims, how to move quickly past any obstacle, how to get information from people, how to recognize letters and read some small words, how to track prey, and how to differentiate between tolerable magic users and witches. She was a fine student for some years, but eventually the impetuousness of youth got the better of her.

      On her second solo outing as a trained but not yet officially named witch hunter, Amaia ran afoul of a weakness she'd tried hard to deny and hide for years. She was sent out to investigate what seemed to be a witch experimenting with necromancy. The reports were right, and she was able to track the culprit down without much trouble. Unfortunately, the fledgling necromancer was a gorgeous woman named Giselle, and Amaia found that she didn't want to kill the woman despite knowing what she was doing; it wasn't like she was trying to raise an army of evil to conquer the world, after all, just looking for a way to bring loved ones back from the grave, and so what if experimenting to do that required defiling a few corpses? One thing led to another, Amaia ended up... entangled with Giselle and was taught how to use a little magic to enhance her blades, and after a few weeks of fun she damn near forgot that she'd been sent to kill the woman. Her mentor Izar came looking for her wayward apprentice, found them together, and assumed that the witch had done something to Amaia's mind to turn her away from her cause; the old woman was wrong, and Amaia ended up fighting her to give Giselle time to flee. She never knew if her lovely necromancer survived, never saw her again, but that put a firm end to her work with the witch hunters of Liveria.

      Amaia set out on her own after that, partly voluntarily and partly because there wasn't much chance of a decent life for her there once word spread around that she'd been fucking a witch and then helped her escape "justice." She decided that witch hunting hadn't been for her after all, because the witch hunters had been far too black and white in their notions of good and evil and how they applied to magic. She instead dedicated herself to killing truly evil things, the monsters that preyed on people, not people who used unpopular magic. There was no reason to kill people when there were true monsters out there, after all. Amaia named herself a monster slayer, and she has more or less lived up to it for some years now, with the odd bump in the road caused by fear and libido.

    • Entry Point: Book 1, Druid's Coven.
      Name: Ignas Durant
      Age: 1247 (Though he doesn't know how old he is because elf memory blows.)
      Sex: Male
      Appearance Image

      • Ancient Mage: Ignas has quite literally forgotten more about magic than most mages ever learn. While he has dabbled in many kinds of magic in the pursuit of knowledge (the ones he recalls are fire, air, light, illusion, and necromancy), and he can manage parlor trick level feats with those he remembers, he only maintains active practice with two schools of elemental magic: fire and air. So far as he can tell he has been using these two forms of magic his entire life, and his level of control and sheer strength with them support that thought.
      • Arcane Defense: Amongst other markings on his flesh, Ignas has branded himself with sigils to amplify his defensive uses of air magic. They are essentially passive batteries for raw magical energy that add some extra juice to very specific uses of magic, created with some skill or aid that he has since forgotten and did not record in his books. Whenever Ignas makes something like a wall or shield with his air magic, the runes pour in an extra dose of power to make them even sturdier than his mastery of air magic ought to allow. They only hold enough power to supercharge two such spells, and once drained they require a full night's rest to recharge.
      • Magical Perception: After a long life with extensive exposure to and use of magic, Ignas has become very good at sensing other mages and their relative strength, feeling when magic is being used or is present, and figuring out what flavor of magic it is and what it's supposed to do. It's not a perfect art by any means, but he's better at it than most.
      • Man of Letters: Thanks to a long lifespan combined with an obsession with written and spoken words, Ignas is a master with both pen and tongue. He has learned to speak, read, and write most languages of the more or less civilized cultures at some point in time and those forgotten usually come back to him with a little exposure and practice. Futhermore, his penmanship is so superbly honed that he could be a master forger, able to copy anyone's writing form and signature, though he has no memory of putting this skill to use in any way other than writing in his own personal journal or making copies of old books and manuscripts.

      • Wizards Wear Robes: True to his calling as a man of magic and learning and peace, Ignas wears robes. Robes are not very good protection against blades or clubs or arrows or teeth or claws or so forth. He relies on his magic and companions to protect him rather than bulky armor, and if anything gets past those he's in big trouble. This danger is compounded by the fact that any reasonably intelligent enemies will peg the spindly, fireball hurling mage as a high priority target.
      • Bibliophile: Ignas has an obsessive love and respect for the written word. No matter the content or importance of a piece of writing, he will be driven to save it from any danger and prevent others from destroying it.
      • Man of Peace: Though he may not remember most of it, Ignas has seen far too much fighting in his life to be comfortable with it. He knows from his journals that there was a time in which he was a warrior rather than a scholar, but he theorizes that he passed through being battle-hardened to become weary of it all in a way so profound that it transcends memory. He will almost always seek a peaceful solution up until the moment it becomes clear that peace is impossible, and even then he might not resort to violence unless it's clear that innocents or people he cares about might die without his aid.
      • Nervous Follower: Ignas doesn't do well with high stress situations, in large part because they often bring disturbing but indecipherable snippets of memories to the surface that cause him to freeze up. Even in low stress situations he's not very confident and would struggle to be assertive to save his own life. When forced into combat he's liable to resort to simple, selfish, and reactionary tactics meant to destroy direct threats to himself and otherwise defend himself rather than doing whatever is best for the group. Sending him alone to handle any vital task is basically asking for failure, because the pressure will very likely get to him. Some have had success getting him past this by more or less holding his hand with firm commands, but it's not a surefire thing at all.

      King's Rangers or Kiune the Druid?: Kiune the Druid

      Biography: Ignas knows relatively little of his own past, with only the past century or so remaining clear to him. He knows perhaps more about his own past than most elves of his kind of who live to many centuries of age, thanks to his habit of keeping notes about his own life, but there are still massive gaps in his personal history. He does not know what name he was given by his parents: Ignas Durant is a morphing of words from his mother tongue that mean "enduring flame," scrawled on the inside cover of his journal, but he is almost certain that this was a name he chose later in life rather than his given name. He is pretty sure he hails from the Dark Forest, but there are dire notes about the frailty of elven children written in many places in his notes that keep him from returning and confirming it. The journal is missing early pages and perhaps other parts were lost or discarded when the contents were copied to newer and larger books over the ages, but he is fairly sure he is more than one thousand years old because some of the earliest notes include mention of having recently left the grand city of Renalta.

      What Ignas does know for certain is that he wants to make the world a better place. It is a drive that he feels in his gut whenever he considers his purpose in the world, something that may have been built from past experiences or might have been what drove him to leave his home in the first place. He also knows that words, written words especially, are important, both as a way to keep track of his own history and in a more general sense. He carries three books with him at all times, and they are his most prized possessions: the book he calls his journal, which is part diary and part autobiography; a book half-filled with notes on everything from facts of history to social customs of certain cultures, a sort of guide book of things that he once considered important enough to record permanently; and his tome of magic, in which his collected knowledge of the arcane arts is written in far greater depth and detail than can be found in his other two books, primarily concerning the uses of fire and air magic but with small sections about other schools as well. He carries yet another set notes as well, these of a more personal nature: words burnt into his flesh with his own magical power, refreshed every few years to keep them visible. His left arm bears names that he suspects were his original family; his right has a list of feminine names that might have been his lovers, and some with other names added to the side seem to indicate children; other words and phrases spread across his arms and torso, some that have obvious meanings and others that confuse him.

      All the confusion aside, Ignas does have a rough outline of his past that mostly makes sense. After leaving his home he wandered around for some indeterminate amount of time seeking knowledge of magic, then as a more generalized scholarly sort, then for a while as a healer (though whether this was by magic or medicine he is not sure and he has lost whatever skills he had in that area), then at some point he became a scribe and during this period he knows for certain thanks to his journal that he had a family and a couple children, then later on he set to wandering again before settling in an unknown village in Renalta as a sort of mayoral figure, then for some reason he ended up in the Free Holds as the treasurer and advisor to some warlord whose name was apparently not important enough to write down. From there the picture grows a little clearer both in note and memory: something happened that drove Ignas to fight. Pages are missing from his journal that might have once held an explanation, very clearly ripped out deliberately, and without them he could only speculate. He spent decades fighting, a living weapon tearing apart battlefields with raging infernos, and worst of all his notes made it clear that he felt righteous in this slaughter at the time. He knew it had not been a war of emancipation, for his journal clearly notes that many of his allies and enemies in battle were slave soldiers. Whatever the cause, whatever justification he had, the somewhat detailed notes of that time simply stopped after a hastily jotted sentence: "We march upon the city an hour before dawn, and none can stand before us." The following page is taken up by a brief message more poignant in nature: "War causes more problems than it solves. Never again."

      The notes resume at the top of the next page, remarking about the daily struggles of a small village in the remnants of Renalta. They go on for a while, then move to some other village. The journal keeps on that way, giving no further elucidation to Ignas' time as a warrior, no indication of how much time passed between the immediate jump to country life, but he knew that phase of his life had left permanent marks. He possesses sigils burned into his flesh that store power to act as a limited boost to his defenses with air magic, something that only a warrior would consider necessary. More importantly, he knows that what he did and saw left mental scarring that changed him: his journals often contained notes on his own feelings and his thought processes, but reading them in recent decades has felt like they were the work of another person entirely. He had become tentative and wracked by doubt, prone to freezing up in tense moments rather than acting decisively. In the night he had nightmares and in the day he had vivid flashes of confusing images that left him feeling sick. They were nearly debilitating in the furthest reaches of his memory, around a century ago, but they slowly faded over time to the point that only great stress brought them forth. He wandered around Renalta, Liveria, and the southern parts of Rheinfeld in that time, continuing what his journal described as "small acts of good to balance the scales." It was a peaceful but tedious life, wandering from town to village to hamlet doing anything from menial labor to heating forges to teaching children their letters to helping scare off bandits with fiery displays, anything that he could do to help make life a little better for those he met.

      Eventually he grew tired of this traveling life and retired to a relatively peaceful area of the mountainous border between Rheinfeld and Renalta, though it took a few reluctant displays of fiery power to make the nearby orcs stay away from the land he claimed as his own. He has spent a little more than a decade in seclusion, broken only by brief contact with the local wildlife, a few travelers, and some small chatter with other hermits in the mountains. This time was spent mainly in thought, trying to decide what exactly he should do with his life moving forward. He contemplated suicide for most of those years, a choice to end his journey rather than finding a new path, but he could never justify it. The world needed fixing, and he had the power to help fix it, so he had a duty to do something about it. He knew that the only a massive change, one that affected everything rather than just individuals or nations, to see his ideal of a better world come into being. The only problem was that he did not know how that might be achieved, and so he remained in thought, hidden away from most of the world.

      Motivation: Ignas has taken a common phrase as his purpose in life: "for the greater good." Unlike zealots who use it to justify atrocities, he sees it as more of a broad mission statement. He wants to make the world a better place, one that isn't full of so much pain and tragedy, and almost any sacrifice is worth it to achieve such a goal. The gods appear to do more harm than good overall, so Ignas would happily aid an effort to dispose of them in hopes of bettering the world.
    #2 Jorick, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Jun 17, 2016
  2. Alex the Bard, sans Kouri Plush
    + Bardic Wiles: With a tender-plucked lyre, rhythmic dancing and entrancing voice, Alexandra is talented in capturing the attention of the masses and wriggling her way into many a heart.
    + Illusory Cantrips: She has picked up a knack for small works of illusion, playing small tricks on peoples' senses.
    + Offensive Competency: She knows her way around a bow and what way to stick, stab, and slice with most basic bladed weapons.
    + Dexterous: She is an acrobatically, accuracy, and swiftness inclined individual.
    + Worldly: She is well-traveled and knows her way around. She has collected her share of knowledge, tales and song.
    - Physically Weak: She lives a comfortable life of a traveling bard, not a warrior. She is not acclimated to fighting up-close and personal, be that dealing or receiving injury.
    - Mana Deficient: She cannot cast often or sustain magic for long. It quickly exhausts her.
    - Peasantry: She grew up among the peasant class, she is neither rich or well-educated. Her name does not carry any positive weight in this world.
    - Ill Repute: She has had a knack for getting into trouble, be that from failing to curb her sharp tongue, wooing the wrong women, or getting caught with her hands in a fat coinpurse. She has found her way onto the 'list' of a number of people in her travels.
    - Moral Ambiguity: She cannot claim to be a saint... Or even at times a moderately decent person. Her moral compass is inclined towards shades of grey.

    Name: Alexandra Somer
    Age: 21
    Sex: Female
    Appearance: For a woman, she is tall, standing just shy of 6 feet and she is of a slight and soft build. Her face is full and featuring a pair of grey eyes. Her hair is long, falling down past her shoulders in auburn waves, though it is usually up in a bun. She typically wears loose clothes, comfortable and practical for the convenience of travel and performance.

    Biography: From a young age, Alexandra was entranced by the old wives' tales her father would tell her. Growing up in Liveria, they were one of the few cessations from the oppressive culture, as she felt. She idolized this man who painted a scene with a warm, rich voice, and not just metaphorically. The magic infused in his words brought the tales to life before them. It entranced and inspired.

    She trained with her father, attempting to learn his tricks and trade in order to emulate him. The fundamentals were easy, but magic was hard for her to grasp and always took its toll. It made for slow-going, and there came a day that time ran out. Her father passed away when she was still an apprentice.

    It was hard on her mother, and with the coin her father would draw in from his performances gone, they fell into hardship. The eldest two of her brothers left home and became hired hands to pay their own way. Her and the youngest of the three remained home. The burden they placed upon her mother drove her to remarry. He was a trader of silks and had accumulated a moderate fortune of his own. His previous wife had passed away some years ago, leaving him alone with his twin daughters.

    The trader held no love in his heart for Alexandra or her brother. Neither did the twins. It made their home a wretched place where they were not welcome. Her brother was quick to take flight. She thought she heard word that he had been apprenticed to a scribe and lorekeeper. As for herself, she attempted to suffer through the worst of it, for her mother's sake, but there came a day when, arriving home drunk from the tavern, the trader attempted to beat her bloody. In a frenzy to defend herself, she took hold of a knife.

    It struck well, and the trader was left reeling, his eye gouged out. The trader spat at her and promised retribution. He would call the sheriff or wring her neck himself. Her mother looked upon her, fearful, and bid her run. She did not hesitate.

    For a time, she struggled on the road. She eventually found herself traveling with a small caravan, including a band of traveling minstrels. For a time, she traveled with them and earned her keep performing menial work and begging lessons off of whoever she could. Eventually, she was a part of the troupe.

    Her days with the troupe came to a resounding end when, finally, the women of the group began to talk... and learned that Alexandra had charmed her way into more than one of their beds. Gossip travels, of course, and it became knowledge to some of their husbands. She was no longer welcome.

    She made her way alone for a time. Not surprisingly, she learned that it was much harder that way. The need to defend herself became a practical demand and she experimented with a blade and a bow. She found that the presence of a hatchet hanging at her hip averted a number of incidents without even demonstrating force. How were they to know it was mostly ever used in a utilitarian fashion.

    There are times she considers settling down. However, her penchant to making her life more exciting often left her making unwise decisions or succumbing to wanderlust. It was not without advantage, as she sated her thirst for new tales wherever she went. At times, she regretted her inability to read because surely she would be able to extract even more from within the depths of many a tome. It was sufficient, though, that she could count and sign her own name.
    #3 Blackstone, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Dec 13, 2015

    CS here as well. :v

    Name: Verera Pavmire Mineca
    Age: 32
    Sex: M
    Appearance: [​IMG]

    • Combat Feeding: Verera can feed on blood by absorbing it through his skin.
    • Red in Tooth and Claw: Verera's ability increases the more blood he consumes. He hits harder, his body is tougher, he moves faster and he regenerates even faster.
    • Battle Frenzy: RIP! TEAR! MAIM! REND! Verera falls into a combat trance as he fought where he sought nothing but to rip apart his foes. The longer the battle goes the deeper the trance is. Any attempt to influence him to stop would be met with aggressive retaliation.
    • Merchantborn: As much as he didn't like the lessons, Verera were still drilled in the way of the merchants. He knows when things were overpriced or under, how to check the quality of merchandise, haggling and transporting goods.


    • Anemic: He burns through his blood supply in his body quickly that outside of combat situation where he is able to drink large amount of fresh blood he's largely left lethargic, emaciated and unable to use most his vampiric abilities without going into a blood frenzy.
    • Battle Frenzy: RIP! TEAR! MAIM! REND! The deeper the trance goes, the harder it is for him to identify any moving figures in his vicinity as anything but moving bag of bloods to be cut open.
    • Blood Bath: The smell of rotting blood suffuses his body, sneaking is very hard to pull with him around.
    • Wanted: Mass murder is a violent offense. Bounty was placed on Verera's head in Tuleria and some people might decide to try to cash it in, if they ever made a connection between his usual emaciated form and his actual form.
    • Messy Eater: It's hard for Verera to rein in his desire to indulge once he started to drink blood. His attempt is more likely to end with him fully biting and as such his feeding generally end with either his victim drained dry or bleeding to death.
    Born into a Tuleria merchant family, Verera grew into a troublemaker as he preferred to go adventuring in the city with other youths rather than stay put to pay attention to his lessons. His father allowed it, simply out of consideration that it would allow his son to connect with other people rather than being a pompous merchant even if he still assigned several guards to follow the wayward youth.
    #4 Alphakoka, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Dec 16, 2015
  4. So... Y'all should do your homework before you start claiming spots that aren't yours. :ferret:

  5. We aren't claiming character spots. We're claiming character sheet positions. It is a prestigious thing to be near the top. You never know when being able to claim seniority in a thread to someone will come in handy.
  6. What Tempest said. I saw the thing about quality, I just wanted to snag that first post because I'm a nerd like that.
  7. Name: Samuel Mourn de Vandestryker en Karnarvon the 4th.
    Age: 27
    Sex: Male

    • High Summoner: Samuel is a capable summoner specialising in seven particular summons. However, only one summons can be active at any one time.
      • Nar; The fire elemental. A form approaching that of a colossal burning hound.
        • (Fire Damage, fast, but unpredictable.)
      • Sathh; The water elemental. A form approaching that of a colossal water lizardman.
        • (Water Damage, medium speed, can used ranged attacks.)
      • Hawa; The air elemental. Taking a roughly mannish form.
        • (Movement control, fast, little direct damage. Can redirect arrows.)
      • Ard; The earth elemental. Taking the form of a great stone turtle.
        • (Physical Damage. Great damage. Slow as hell.)
      • Zalam; The darkness elemental. Taking the form of a great serpent.
        • (Poison Damage. Near-Perfect Stealth. Easily dismissed by damage.)
      • Khafif; The light elemental. Taking the form of a Eagle.
        • (No damage except vs undead. Can lend sight to Samuel.)
      • Waral; A triceratops. For getting from place to place.
        • (Physical Damage, Good Damage, Ok Speed. Basically just a mount.)
    • Sustained Summoning: Samuel can summon up to three summons a day. But as noted, only one can be present at any time. Each summons can remain for an hour, or until dismissed whichever comes first. *Except for Waral, who may remain until dismissed.*
    • Mage Armour: Samuels leather robes and clothing are enchanted for some degree of protection against damage.

    • No Fighter: As a natural born summoner Samuel has about as much ability to defend himself as your average peasant if he can't bring his summons to do his fighting for him.
    • Noble: A man born of noble blood he tends to expect others of lesser station to wait hand and foot on his very will. And he can thus be caught quite flat-footed when this doesn't happen.
    • Slight Constitution: Despite his magical robes, Samuel is not well built. And is quite soft by most people's standards, a very stereotype of what many peasants figure impotent lordlings sons to be.

    Samuel was born to his parents in the Kingdom of Dreams, a minor noble family noted only for the quality of summoners it produces, as is typical for such minor nobles, they make up for their poor status amongst other nobles with a severe disorder of compensating in the presence of others. Being raised in that environment had a somewhat predictable outcome on Samuel.

    He became a little shit with entitlement issues, on the 'downside' he was handsome enough to largely get away with it throughout most of his childhood, nobody (inside the nobility) could see anything wrong with his behaviour. That continued into his early adulthood when at the age of 15 he cultivated an unhealthy relationship with the Kings daughters, a matter that was causing quite a scandal before he was discovered en flagrante delicto with said daughters and, attempting to flee, summoned Nar in the middle of their chambers.

    Predictably Samuel escaped that situation and fled to his home where he was quickly given a sack of gold, travelling clothes enchanted to protect him and promptly told to fucking run before the Guard turned up with a writ to claim his head.

    And so, distressed, Samuel did precisely that, vanishing into the night to try and find his fame and fortune elsewhere, but his attitude tended to get him short-shrift amongst other nations and so he was kept on the move, now 27 years of age his attitude still has done little to 'simmer down'. Especially since the incident where he chucked a hissy fit and had Nar incinerate a child's Kouri doll in a fit of pique that a peasant dare touch him.
    #8 Kadaeux, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Jan 21, 2016
  8. Name: Kasienka Ellarian
    Age: 1059
    Sex: Female
    Credit to Kelly McLarnon
    Like most elves Kasienka is tall and slender. She stands at a hair over six foot and therefore rarely wears shoes that would raise her height further. Her blue cloak is rarely off her shoulders, neither her leather armor. Copper locks are typically tied up in a braided bun to keep it from out of her eyes when she is moving about. When it is loose it tumbles in waves to just above her waist. Despite her elven blood she has lost any fairness tone her skin may have had due to her centuries of travel. A ring rests on her right middle finger, but she can’t remember where she got it or why she still keeps it.

    • Blessed Healer: She can patch people up fairly quickly, namely due to muscle memory at this point. She also knows enough magic to aid her efforts.
    • All Things Great and Small: After having wandered the world for so long, Kasienka knows how to care for creatures well. She doesn’t want to watch them suffer.
    • Keen Eye: Kasienka has wandered the world for long enough on her own that she has learned how to fend for herself, but from afar. She can feed herself and others given enough time.
    • In the Shadows: By far it is easier to remain out of sight until Kasienka can determine if those near her are worthy of knowing of her presence.

    • World Weary: She is over a thousand years old, but can’t remember the vast majority of it. What has stuck with her is just how much the world has declined and how the people have steadily become more dangerous over time.
    • Bleeding Heart: Kasienka finds it near impossible to watch creatures suffer. They distract her and she will not ever support a plan that would endanger them.
    • Amnesia: The nature of elves means she can’t remember most of her life. Those who say they know her, or their family knew her, could very well be telling the truth and she would never know. This often leads to conflicts, especially if they claim to have been close to past families of hers.
    • Wanderer: Having no home of her own means she has no sort of stability. There is no safe place for her and she doesn’t any means to make money, neither does she carry any more than she will ever need day-to-day. If she has any money on her she’s quick to give it to those who would need it more just to keep her own load light.

    Biography: Anything beyond the last thirty years is mostly unknown to Kasienka. Her original homeland is an enigma, but she assumes it was where most elves reside. Why she left is beyond her as well. She gave herself a new name and continued meandering across the continent, recording all that she could in order to try and keep her life together. She was told time after time of the Legend of Kouri and finds something within it that echoes with her. What this is… Kasienka has no way of knowing. She has been seeking it for longer than she can remember and has obscure notes scrawled in her journal that she attempts to reconnect at times.

    To keep herself fed when the fruits of the wilderness bored her she would stop in small villages and assist the local midwife or apothecary in the ways of piecing people back together. The ranchers would thank her in cream and eggs for healing their stock while those in the town would give her small trinkets for healing their friends and family. She would sell most of them in the next town she came across, but a small Kouri doll has remained in her pack for a few years now. Kasienka has stitched it and made it many small outfits to keep her fingers busy when her legs were tired for the day.

    History Update 6/28-6/29: Kasienka had twins an unknown time ago, one of which died early on. Their names are unknown, but she does have a drawing of them. She is also in a relationship with Hanus Wolfblood.
    #9 Seba, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Jun 29, 2016
  9. Fancy formatting coming up later. For now this should include all relevant information.

    Name: Sarya Phenthae
    Age: 47
    Sex: Female
    Art by Kirsi Salonen
    Markings are magically concealed under most circumstances.

    • Enchantress – Moreso than her daggers, Sarya utilises her charm, wiles and perhaps a little wine, as weapons. She can be most persuasive, winning hearts and secrets alike.
    • A little wine on my old cloak – Sarya is so unfazed by the sight of injury it is outright frightening. She can stay calm under many circumstances others would stress under.
    • Nurse by necessity – Although nowhere near a full-fledged healer, Sarya knows first aid, can compound salves and even knows a little healing magic to treat basic wounds and infections.
    • Let sleeping dogs lie – Stealth and concealment are prerequisites to the trade in the darkest hours of the Free Holds. Sarya also knows minor concealment magic, being able to mask her markings or the daggers in her cloak, or dim sounds and lights in her near vicinity.
    • Liquidation sale – A little assassination to spice up the entertainment business. Spice can be interpreted as a dagger in the back or a homebrew toxic kiss.
    • Prone to disease – Sarya may have grown up in a mixed culture, but courtesy of her elven heritage her immune system is on the weaker side.
    • Branded property – When identification spells are cast or magic is nulled, the markings in the picture show up on Sarya's body; quickly informing everyone of her past.
    • Amateur – Sarya lacks formal training in combat and spellcasting alike. This puts her at a disadvantage when her skills are challenged by those with stronger foundations.
    • This mask won't come off – Sarya finds it difficult to drop character and be herself. She struggles with expressing emotion and compulsively tells lies, sometimes just for the sake of it.
    • Quid pro quo – There's no such thing as charity in the world, according to Sarya. This leaves her a bit short-sighted.
    Biography: Sarya was born to a slave in the Free Holds, which meant chains were a designated companion for life the moment she was brought into the world. That she was property was, as with all other slaves, etched onto her face. Under the ownership of a local warlord, she was expected to work from the moment she could walk. Knowing no other life, Sarya obliged. She cleaned, ran small errands, but most importantly she learned to work her share quickly and silently. For those who did not would often be subject to their owner's mood swings.

    Sarya would not remain unnoticed, however. The moment the promise of a beautiful woman began to show, the warlord took an interest in her. She was expected to fulfill more personal requests and was soon integrated into the serail of the household. The women of the serail has a strange relationship with one another. They would on the one hand take care of one another and their appearances, spreading whatever knowledge of medicine and healing was available amongst the women so they would not invite the ever lurking wrath of the warlord for not looking the part, as carnal acts would often be accompanied by violence.

    On the other, there was much rivalry and jealousy. Those who pleased their master best were granted more privilege but also less the subject of his anger. The older women especially, could treat the younger with much hostility in regards to their own waning beauty. To the point of beating them so they could not appeal to the warlord. Sarya learned in order to live, she had to strike a balance between appeasing the warlord and the women in the serail both.

    Sarya would not learn the cause of her master's temper until years later. The relations between him and other warlords was callous, which put her master under much stress. To repair these relations, the warlord decided to groom Sarya to entertain others. She was sent to many corners of the Free Holds to seduce and make reparations, but not all gestures of her master were so... Friendly. Sarya was also expected to extract confidential information and share it with her master. Or when opportunity presented itself, she was occasionally expected to rid her master of rivals. With ample training, Sarya was forced to learn on the job. Unrest began to boil in her heart, but she simply knew nothing but to serve and so always quelled her doubts.

    For thirty years, Sarya served the role of escort and occasional assassin both. At least, until the news of her master's death arrived while she was away. He had gotten into conflict of arms with another warlord and in the depths of the night, they had infiltrated his fortress and taken his life before burning the household to the ground. Sarya did not know what to do with this sudden freedom. She no longer had a master, nor had she a purpose. The man she had been ordered to suit for the past months decided to take Sarya as her own. This to the ex-slave's displeasure. Yet she knew of no other way to live.

    Sarya further dug her way into the heart of her new self-proclaimed master; continuing to gain power over him as she had been ordered months past. Her influence grew to such extents, many of this warlord's decisions were Sarya's. To alleviate her frustration and boredom alike, Sarya began to issue absurd orders. Nearly even arming gladiators with kouri plushies instead of swords. The warlord's friends and subjects were not pleased with the spell put on this man and sought to remove Sarya her influence. Preferably by Free Holds tradition. Anticipating a backlash, Sarya's enamoured master fled to the south, taking her with him. By the time the would-be murderers came knocking onto his door, they'd already crossed the border into Renalta.
    #10 Kestrel, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Dec 15, 2015
  10. I've updated my bio, adding some weaknesses, changing the formatting. I've also rewritten her bio, to follow a more streamlined path and with the intention of making it clear why this quest should interest her.

    • ©chiiku
      Name: Tahlia Wether, née Dettlef.
      Age: Twenty-two.
      Sex: Female.
      Appearance: Tahlia is a petite woman with long blonde hair reaching the small of her back. Her brows are dark, framing deep red eyes—a birth defect that seldom goes unnoticed. In addition, her skin is rather pale. She typically bears a thick cloak and modest robes.

      Strengths & Weaknesses:
      • Spiritualist: Talented in the art of manipulating souls and spirits, though nowhere near a master of the craft. Though it rarely has any effect on the physical body, it can grant her some useful abilities, most notably manipulating spirits and resisting possession and other influencing magics, either being enacted on herself or others. With some difficulty, she can hold a soul/spirit in a dying body for longer than it normally should, allowing a healer more time to reach the victim.
      • Bestial Link: Born with the ability to communicate with a variety of beasts, though pre-dominantly warm-blooded ones, through some natural telepathic ability. Due to their limited sentience, the content of this communication is usually limited to basic concepts such as instinct and desire, but it does allow her to speak to Faolan naturally.
        • It is difficult for her to influence their behaviour, however.
      • Innocence: Young and attractive, it is easy to take pity on her for her appearance alone.
        • This is typically rendered ineffective when Witch is in effect, or in Faolan's presence.
        • Little One: She has little trouble finding places to hide, and is rather stealthy.
      • Knowledgeable: Through her training under the old crone, Tahlia is literate and quite familiar with fauna and flora local to Rheinfeld.
      • A Wolf's Might:
        Faolan Wether

        Age: Twenty-four.
        Sex: Male.

        Tahlia's wolf companion and husband. After nearly losing his life, Tahlia miraculously managed to pull his spirit from his body and put it into that of a wolf.

        He is both strong and sturdy enough for her to use as a mount. As a dire wolf, he is comparable in size, perhaps, to a lion. His fur is thick and dark, though not quite black.
        Faolan, her companion, is built for combat. Larger than a normal wolf, he is stronger, sturdier, and fiercer, fighting with deadly claw and tooth. Without significant armour, he can sustain only a few hits before succumbing to his wounds. However, he prefers to use his flexibility and speed to dodge or parry attacks before they strike.
        • Stalker of Prey: Faolan's enhanced sense of smell allow him to easily track his prey once he's caught a scent. Pair that with his natural stealth, and be ready for an ambush.
      • Frail & Weak: With only the rudimentary defence of a wooden staff, Tahlia is lacking in offensive combat ability. She is also frail of body, unable to take a hit and without armour. Overall, her best bet during combat is either to make herself small on Faolan's back, or to stay out of it altogether.
      • Witch: After her tale had spread to a few villages, she and her 'abomination' of a companion have been chased zealously by the Templar. She is rarely safe from notice in Rheinfeld; Templars aware of her abilities or history will her down and kill her.
        • The reaction of peasants vary, with some villages being sympathetic and others as vindictive as the Templar. Most still fear Faolan, however, independently of their opinion of her.
      • Only a Hound: Despite his brute strength, neither claw nor tooth is particularly effective against plate. Faolan can do little against heavily armoured foes except slow them down. He is also without armour, especially vulnerable to piercing attacks.
      • Isolated: Appearances aside, Faolan is fully sentient, but trapped in the body of a wild beast. Though he can understand others, he himself can only communicate through Tahlia. There is little he can do without her save track, hunt, and kill, unable to manipulate his environment with his wolven claws. If kept away from Tahlia for too long, he begins to revert to the mindset of a simple beast; he will not, however, turn hostile without reason.
        • Wolf's Fury: A reason to turn hostile. Should Tahlia be grievously injured, Faolan will fall into a violent rage, with no distinction between friend and foe. Of course, Tahlia remains safe from his wrath. So far, only Tahlia has been trusted and cared enough by him to pull him from such a rage.

      Born in Rheinfeld and graced with the ability to commune with wild animals, Tahlia was received with apprehension in her village from a young age. The elder crone of the village, however, took interest in her abilities, and with the hope of creating a priestess worthy of succeeding her, took the young girl as her apprentice. Unbeknownst to the commonfolk, what the crone called miracles and prayers were actually manifestations of magic, both healing and spiritual. She had managed to keep these secrets hidden from the Templar for years, but shared them in trust with the young girl. It was around the age of eight that Tahlia began to question the power of the gods, and their right to rule—though her faith in the churches of Rheinfeld remained unchallenged.

      It was under the care of the crone that she learned to read and write, and that she studied the natural world around her. As her knowledge grew, Tahlia also attempted to learn the magics of her teacher—though her efforts in healing were doomed to failure, she had a natural talent for the manipulation of the spirit.

      As she moved into her teen years, she found herself attracted to another young boy of the village, and began to distance herself from the path of the priestess, no longer wishing to live her life alone as the crone had. The boy's name was Faolan, and he was the son of a lumberjack. Their romance was the talk of the town, and after a few years of chaste courtship, the two became engaged. Soon thereafter, they were married, Tahlia being at the ripe age of sixteen.

      Building a life together at the edge of the woods, they lived in bliss for a couple years, Tahlia continuing to aid the old crone with her duties, and Faolan taking on the trade of his father. But one fateful day, Faolan nearly lost his life to the maw of a dire wolf. Tahlia found him bleeding out in the forest, with mere minutes left to live. The body of the dire wolf lay nearby, knocked out by the butt of his axe. In an act of desperation, she performed an act that the crone had never taught the girl: she pulled Faolan's soul from his body, and plunged it into that of the wolf.

      When the other villagers found her, caressing the wolf over her husband's bloody corpse, they thought grief had driven her mad; but once the old crone arrived, she was quick to discover the truth behind the scene. Appalled by this desecration of the natural order, she labelled Tahlia a witch, and the villagers chased her and her wolven companion deep into the forest.

      At twenty-one she was thrust into unfamiliar territory, attempting to survive in the wilds, sometimes pilfering food and clothing from the villages she crossed as she wandered Rheinfeld. It was not long before the Templar took notice, and sent out a small troop to apprehend her. No longer safe in the woods, she fled her homeland for the remnants of Renalta down south, looking for anyone who would take her and her wolf in without prejudice.

      A romantic at heart, and inspired by Kouri's life of oppression and love, Tahlia believes she has finally found a purpose, and a home.


    kouri plushie
    #11 Holmishire, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Dec 15, 2015
  11. Do characters have to be of the humanoid standard fantasy list sort? Like, elves, orcs, humans, dwarves...? Or can they be a little more on the creature side of things?

    I have a giant dog idea that I've been sort of wanting to play, I do not know if he'd fit in this setting, although, if giants can exist, that's an easy explanation. >.>

    Or a sort of faerie creature that could be explained as having been made through too much magic exposure. But I'm uncertain if either would be considered acceptable.
  12. They can be more on the creature side of things if you can justify them. This is a character driven narrative though, so, keep in mind that relationship building and dialogue are core aspects of the story.

    Giants exist, but there is a reasonable size cap.

    Magic exposure is definitely a thing in this universe.
  13. Everyone: There will be four other PNPC's that will arrive at the pond around the same time as the players. Two are predetermined (Marcus & Mikan), the other two will be randomized and pulled from a list of NPC's in the setting that would be appropriate for LoR 1's storyline. All of them will undergo changes, same as Kouri, for the sake of telling a new story from the same premise. The two other NPC's will be unveiled with the start of the IC. :ferret:


    In a day or two, I'll also announce when the IC is going up. Right after the IC goes up, I'll start approving characters. So consider the IC release date your timer to finish your CS. If it's not done by then, well... :ferret:

    • The Bastard Duellist
      Name: Cennick Greenborough.
      Age: Twenty-Two.
      Sex: Male.
      Appearance: Cennick is a notably short man, falling on the wrong side of five-and-a-half feet tall, he sports an athletic though not muscular build putting him at a somewhere around one-hundred-and-forty pounds. Despite his vertical disadvantage the duellist is conventionally attractive, his features are strong and unmarred, his green eyes and charming demeanour doing the rest of the work. Well kept blond hair hangs past his shoulders, usually left loose, but is occasionally braided when it's length would get in the way. Only the faintest hint of a beard can be seen against his fair skin. It is not uncommon for for folk to mistake Cen for younger than he is, many just assuming he's just a very competent teenager.

      Cen's clothing is practical in style, dyed in humble greens and yellows, but is expensive in material. His light suit of armour, mostly just a breastplate and arm-guards, is similarly simple in design and bereft of decoration, though it is polished to a blinding sheen.

      Kouri Plushy.

      • Champion Duellist: Cennick's attendance at the Academy of Swordsmanship has left him with a deep understanding of swordsmanship and his short career as a professional duellist has only tempered his skill further. Assuming a roughly equal opponent Cen is nearly unbeatable in a one-on-one fight, though his skill in more practical combats may leave something to be desired.
      • Blade Master: Proficient in the use of of many different kinds of sword Cennick finds it useful to carry an array of blades into battle, each suited for different tasks.
        • Everforged Claymore: Given to Cennick by Fischer as a 'gift' in return for his service, this enchanted blade has quickly become the duellist's preferred weapon. This great sword runs six feet from pommel to point, dwarfing Cen, but aside from that it appears to be mundane. Only when Cen utters a verbal command does the Everforged Claymore show it's true power, it's blade glowing white hot as if freshly pulled from the embers of a forge. In this state the blade can glide through armour and flesh alike with contemptuous ease, though any wounds it may cause are instantly cauterized under the intense heat.
        • Thorn of the Forest: Cennick's sole weapon of choice until recently, this elven made longsword has tasted the blood of many even before the bastard got his hands on it. It's lightweight for it's size, prompting some folk to assume it's been enchanted, however those with the means to sense such things will see no spark of magic dance along the leaf-shaped blade. Even then, the blinding speed in which a skilled user can wield Thorn of the Forest will leave even the keenest of crusaders doubting their abilities.
        • Discipulus Gladium: Most graduates of the Academy of Swordsmanship let their graduation blade sit over some mantle, a nice piece of wall crockery or conversation piece in case of guests. Not one for crockery, conversation or guests Cennick has instead pressed it into practical use. Sitting somewhere between a smallsword and rapier, this thrusting blade is as functional as it is decorated. It just so happens that the alchemical silver plating used to make it extra shiny also makes it extra useful against certain supernatural beasties.
      • With Honours: Despite what it's name might suggest, The Academy of Swordsmanship does not exclusively focus on swordcraft. In fact it provides the most comprehensive education outside of the mage guild. Or so it's faculty say. Regardless, ten years at a boarding school puts a man far ahead of most others in a world without public education. Most notably Cennick can speak and understand most common languages with varying degrees of fluency as well as a spattering of more uncommon ones.
      • Pain Tolerance: Through a combination of sparring injuries, punitive switching and a healthy dose of mandatory beatings Cennick has earned himself a solid resilience to pain.

      • Green: The real world is a very different place then what academies teach, and while Cennick is rich in academic knowledge ten years cloistered away has done him few favours in dealing with more practical matters. He is notably naive, in the four short years on his own his trusting nature has already been abused a multitude of times to better the ends of others.
      • Bastard: The sad fact is, no matter what Cennick accomplishes in life he will always be tainted by his father's one bout of runaway lust. The Liverian courts will always treat him as a lesser person and any other noble who learns of his shame will most likely judge him for it.
      • Honour Bound: Growing up in a world where fair play was not only embraced, but enforced, Cennick has developed a very strong concept of honour. While this does benefit him around those with the same values it starts becoming a burden when dealing with, well, anyone else. He refuses to lie or steal under any circumstance and is utterly reviled by any notion of stealth or sabotage. Not surprisingly, he isn't popular among those who prefer to do their work in the shadows.
      • Intolerance: Not all taught the academies is academic, in such a isolated nation as Liveria hatred and mistrust is systemic. Knowing nothing else Cennick has taken the lessons of hatred as gospel and does not stray from their teachings. Vampires are monsters to be hunted, elves are cowards who hide in their forests, dwarves are greedy gits who hoard the riches of the underworld for themselves and so on so forth.


      Cennick Greenborough. Duellist. Champion. Scholar. Bastard. The word follows him like blood hound, biting at his heels when at all times. He can't escape it, even after a decade of education, consistently ranking among the top of his classes his family still looks upon him with shame. His father is understandable, it was ultimately his unbridled lust that led to the bastard's existence to begin with. But the others, sitting in their high castle with their pure blood, they judge not because of shame, but because it is customary. Only his brother Wayne spares him the grief, but only because he's a bastard of sort as well, not by birth, but by demeanour.

      They shouldn't have been surprised when Cennick turned down that job as sheriff for some gods-forbidden village on the southern border. Despite what others thought, he was destined for greatness, not as the shepherd of peasants. Acting as a champion for those who could not defend themselves was much more rewarding work, both for his ego and his purse. Still that was not enough, his work was great, but not one of true greatness. It wasn't until he chanced upon the metal-armed man did true greatness gaze upon Cen.

      The task was impossible, mad even. But what who else was better suited for such a task, who else was worthy to go on such a marvellous expedition. Of course he had to wait first, for who or what he was never told. Not until she arrived anyway. Now with the princess of legend here at last Cennick Greenborough can prove himself, not only to his family, but to the world.

    • The Moneyed Veteran
      Name: 'Sergeant' Ole Fischer.
      Age: Forty-Six.
      Sex: Male.
      Appearance: Standing a respectable six feet tall and sporting a muscular build Ole Fischer is a contrasting figure, his rugged form playing against refined clothing revealing him a man of two worlds. His greying hair is retreating from the top of his head only to be found regrouping on his upper lip, forming a formidable line of moustache that his hawkish nose commands with dignity. High up his left eye lays by itself with only a pair of bushy eyebrows to keep it company, it's twin obscured by a leather eyepatch. Most striking though is his right arm, or rather the lack thereof, replaced by darkened steel prosthetic that moves separate from his body, almost as if it possesses a mind of it's own.

      Normally the sergeant shuns the Ranger's signature cloak and hood, only wearing it when required. Usually he's seen wearing a fitted tunic, it's drab green dye almost doing a disservice to the fine cotton it colours. His pants are made of a similar fabric, though died a slightly more vibrant shade of green. Breaking up the green is brass, everything that could be made of brass is made of brass. Brass buttons, belt buckles, boot buckles, decorative studs around the stiffened collar and cuffs. When more fancy wear is called for he adds decorative silver pauldrons inlaid with yet more brass as well as a nifty red silken side-cape that helps obscure his unsightly arm.

      Preparing for combat Fischer's wealth becomes far more apparent. The fitted steel half-plate he wears bears the hard angles of dwarven craftsmanship as well as intricate brass etching that wraps around the armour, anyone with the patience to look over the whole thing will be regaled with a visual tale telling of a humble man who rises to wealth on his own will. The legs are left bare excepting a short skirt of mail, the top of his head flaunting a wide brimmed kettle helm, the lower part of his face protected by the raised collar of his cuirasse. His left arm is especially well covered, as if he's afraid of losing it, while his right is left to protect itself on it's own material merit.

      Kouri Plushy.

      • Veteran: The sergeant has been fighting in battlefields all over the world for the better part of his lifetime and has managed to get through mostly intact. What's he missing in body parts he's made up with raw experience, he is a fierce, practical combatant capable of effectively wielding damn near any weapon you could think of. In addition, he is familiar with the less violent side of warrior life from everything to maintaining supply lines to proper waste disposal.
      • Thunderer: Of all the weapons Fischer has wielded over his life his favourite would have to be guns. Rare as they are the sergeant has managed to handle all sorts of firearms during his long career, you'd be hard pressed to find a gunman with more experience in all of the known world. If he were whole he'd probably be a great marksman, however the loss of his dominant eye has rendered him all but useless at any range greater than thirty feet. This has not dampened the sergeant's enthusiasm (or lethality) for firearms, he's just had to learn how to effectively use them at point-blank range.
      • Million Silver Man: One of Fischer's most striking features has to be his artificial arm. This large armoured limb is made completely of a dark steel and grant's the sergeant great, if not somewhat clumsy, strength. Powered by a magic similar to golemancy the arm is mentally requires active focus to be controlled, while he has all but mastered it's use in combat the sergeant still struggles with gentler effort and generally elects to use his good arm when performing tasks that don't require brutish force. As a quirk of the magic used to animate the arm it does need to be attached to Fischer to function, in fact it's simply held onto him by a harness and can be removed with relative ease should it be required to act separately. It's as creepy as you'd think.
      • Copper For Gold: Unlike many of his fellow mercenaries who blew their hard-fought gold as fast as they earned it Fischer saved it and eventually invested it in his own private enterprise. He owns two productive copper mines as well as a forge to refine the collected ore, almost all of which is sold to the Rheinfeld mint. This has made the sergeant maddeningly wealthy, rivalling that of some noble houses. Though he funnels a significant amount of his money to the King's Rangers in order to keep them well equipped he still has most of his capital kept to himself, stored in banks all over. Though he doesn't keep much on his person Fischer has avenues to his cash in case he needs to utilize it quickly.
      • Best That Money Can Buy: Fischer's affluence affords him access to the some of the highest quality equipment in the known world. He sports a custom made set of dwarven half-plate complete with a matching falchion, slightly oversized to take advantage of the strength his artificial arm offers. However, his most valued piece of hardware would have to be a firearm he calls The Thunder. This squat, double barrelled blunderbuss is curious article of mechanist technology, even with magicks reducing recoil it's impossible for a normal human to fire it without shattering their arm and it's too small to be reasonably used by anything larger. Most likely it was originally owned by a particularly sturdy dwarf, but it's unique properties happen to line up with the sergeant's unique conditions so well you would be forgiven to assume it was special made for him.

      • Left Heavy: Most fighters would be rendered useless if they lost both their right arm and eye, Fischer himself is only still a viable combatant because of his artificial limb. If he were to lose it he would certainly be rendered just another broken veteran, albeit a rich one. His eye is of more concern as he's not managed to find a replacement. It's been more than a decade since he lost it and he's adapted, but still he has trouble judging distance beyond a few feet and his limited area of vision opens him up to sneak attacks.
      • Over The Hill: Despite his claims otherwise the sergeant's age is catching up with him. Each passing day brings new aches and he's found that he's just not as spry as he used to be.
      • Been Around The Block: Over his long career Fischer has sired at least a dozen children all around the world, many of which have grown into adults themselves. These children are none too happy with their wealthy, deadbeat father that left them and their mothers to fend for themselves while he stomped all over the world. Every city risks the possibility of abandoned progeny running up and demanding money, recognition, reunion, affection or revenge, none of which Fischer is eager to provide.
      • Figure of Envy: Fischer's wealth has not escaped the eyes of the world unnoticed. Nobles look upon him as an aberrant fiend, shunting the natural order of things while his fellow commoners just see him as another overlord growing fat on the work of the honest man. He now sits in a sort of class limbo, only really able to identify with other independent capitalists, not exactly a plentiful demographic.


      As ancient as the organization is the King's Rangers are still subject to one brutal reality: Nothing is free. While the organization is more than capable of supplying itself with basic enmities and equipment more pricey purchases are generally out of reach. Enter 'Sergeant' Ole Fischer, copper magnate and the Ranger's primary financier. Whenever the Ranger's are in need new or more specialized equipment you can safely bet that it was bought on Fischer's coin.

      He wasn't always rich, in fact he started out quite the opposite, a fisherman's son in a rural Rheinfelden village with no expectations in life but to follow in his father's footsteps. Fate seemed unsatisfied with this however and during the summer of his sixteenth year a company of mercenaries stopped by his quiet hamlet or replenish supplies. Though they were only there for a few days young Ole was enthralled by the excitement and danger of the mercenary's life and when they left the boy went with them, his parents watching on with stoic acceptance.

      The mercenary life proved to be less glamorous than the lad was led to believe, for the first few months he was treated as little more than a errand boy fetching this and cleaning that. Such mundane duties did little to dampen his enthusiasm however and soon enough he found himself on the front lines, pike in hand. This is usually the point where a naive boy would break down, that din of clashing steel and screams of the dying coming down like a ton of bricks. Ole was not one of these boys, it was exactly what he signed up for and the greatest rush of his life. His lust for battle earned him a quick promotion from pikeman to crossbowman, where his uncanny aim and itchy trigger figure earned him even more fame, so much so that when his company procured a shipment of mechanist firearms he was immediately made commander of the newly formed outfit of musketeers, later dubbed The Fischer Kings.

      The Fischer Kings quickly became a feared name on the battlefield and many contracts were made with their parent company solely for their services. This fame came with a price and soon enough the elimination of The Fischer Kings became the primary objective of any canny general he was put against. One such individual had hired a band of witch hunters with the sole purpose of ending them and though Ole and his men where able to weather the assault and drive the hunters off it came at a great cost of life as well as the commanders eye, put out by crossbow bolt. The Fischer Kings still managed to persist until one particularly inept general had them receive the brunt the charge of a line of Free Holds cataphracts, smashing the gunmen into the dust and taking Ole's fighting arm. That one mistake simultaneously ended The Fischer Kings and their leader's career in one go.

      Twenty long years of fighting had earned Ole a small fortune that he could have easily lived on comfortably for the rest of his life, but he wasn't content with just sitting down and doing nothing worth while until he died. No, he still sought out thrills and unable to participate in combat he went with the next best thing; Free Enterprise.

      The Renaltan Remnants became Fischer's new home, no pesky central government to demand taxes. With the help of a contracted geomancer he managed to find a rich vein of copper conveniently located near a reasonably large village. The opened mine was nigh bursting with ore, rendering both Fischer and the village wealthy. That as not enough for the former mercenary though and he did it again, this time in a more remote location with reputation for bandit attacks. This was easily solved by calling up a few favours and providing a few old friends with cushy positions as guards. Again the mine haemorrhaged ore and Ole was made even wealthier. Soon enough he cut out the middle man and started processing his own ore and selling it directly to clients, eventually securing a contract with the Rheinfeld mint.

      It all slowed down after that, Fischer had far more gold than he knew what to do with, most of it rotting in banks across the continent. The only truly expensive purchase he made was a special made artificial arm, a product of strange magicks mixed the genius of mechanists. While the arm gave him the freedom to return to his militant life he now thought it inappropriate now that he owed responsibility to so many. Still he practised combat with his prosthetic, if only for his own personal entertainment.

      Fate was again unimpressed with this stagnancy and sent an agent to mend it. A cloaked man approached with a request for a simple loan. He refused to tell Fischer what it was for and could only make a vague promise that his organization would even pay it back, normally Fischer would laugh at such an absurd proposition, but on a gut instinct he accepted it. The amount of money was small potatoes for the financier anyway.

      Almost to his surprise he was paid back in a few short months at the end of which he was propositioned for another considerably larger loan. Again, the cloaked figure refusing to disclose their intent for the gold. This time curiosity overtook Fischer and he demanded to know the what organization he was working for, the hooded man hesitated before admitting he was working for the King's Rangers. Ole had briefly heard of the organization, but hadn't thought of them as anything other than a local myth spread by fanciful bumpkins. That satisfied his curiosity for that moment and he signed away the loan with no further issue. This act continued for years, a ranger would come asking for a loan or favour and in exchange would provide their financier with more information about the order. The whole thing seemed ridiculous at first, but eventually Ole was engrossed by the story of the King's Rangers. The seemed so much larger than life, an ancient organization trying for millennia to rid of the gods all while waiting for a legendary princess to just show up.

      Eventually he asked to just formally join the King Ranger's as their financier and stop the whole farce of asking for loans every few months. After a short time of review, mostly to ensure Ole wasn't some sort of sleeper agent playing the long con, he was accepted in the order.

      A few years later brings our story into the current day, with Kouri's confirmed return and the rangers preparing for action so rises 'Sergeant' Ole Fischer, armed to the teeth and determined help personally carve a new era with his own force of arms and the thunderous roar of gunfire.

    • The Rogue Son
      Name: Wayne Hawker.
      Age: Tweny-Eight.
      Sex: Male.
      Appearance: If given one word to describe Wayne, you would probably get something along the line of 'scrappy'. On the lower end of average and sporting a broad, though not overly stocky build tempered by physical activity gives the air of a fighter. A square jawed face complete with tasteful facial scar would complete the image if not for his billowing, bouncy, shoulder length head of golden hair that is just a bit too well manicured for the average brute.

      He holds himself with a stance that implies a life of action, constantly on the balls of feet, back straight and hands lazily resting on his weapons even in areas of safety.

      Image is by Alon Chau.

      Kouri Plushy.

      • Ancient Armaments: Wayne has 'liberated' his grandfather's sacred heirlooms. Axe, sword and mail, fabled to once have had the power to split boulders and deflect the blows of giants with ease. Now they are but mere artifacts, preserved by the mote of magic stubbornly thrumming in their cores, crying for a chance to see battle again.
      • Bruiser: Even though he is a formally trained combatant, Wayne doesn't shy away from getting a little dirty should the need arise. He combines traditional knightly swordsmanship with moves that wouldn't be uncommon in a bar room brawl. Biting, kicks to sensitive bits and blinding foes with sand are all fair game to the rogue.
      • Heroic Constitution: The blood of his heroic grandfather runs think in Wayne's veins. Blows that would fell an average man merely inconvenience him and he recovers from injury at a supernatural rate.
      • Bellower: Wayne's voice is said to be so mighty that it can frighten giants and deafen those sensitive of hearing. While those are obvious exaggerations, it does hold some spark of truth. If the rogue wishes to be heard, others will damn well hear him.
      • History Nut: Despite all outward appearances suggesting otherwise, Wayne is quite bookish. He's spent many a night cloistered in libraries eking out what he could by candlelight. This has resulted in a quite broad knowledge of recent historical events, from the Sunja slave rebellion to the battle of crooked-knee creek. He's also familiar, though not necessarily proficient, with most common human languages.

      • Liverian Outcast: Wayne's 'disagreements' with the nobility of Liveria has left him an outlaw, hunted by assassins and abandoned by his family. If he were ever to set foot in Liveria again it would undoubtedly attract some unwanted attention.
      • Loud Mouth: Though of nobility himself, Wayne makes no secret of his distaste for the higher classes. Kings, Warlords and Barons alike are all subject to his unsubtle scrutiny, even if they're standing right beside him.
      • Family Man: When it comes down to it, Wayne is only seeking adventure for the good of his wife and daughters. If anything were to happen to them it would emotionally destroy him.
      • Privileged Upbringing: During his childhood Wayne was never left wanting for anything. His high birth afforded him an easy, safe life that left him ill prepared for the rigors of traveling in the wilderness. It is almost doubtless that if left to his own devices he would starve.
      • Ignorant: Despite all of his time with his nose stuck in books Wayne couldn't be bothered with learning even the first thing about the intricacies of other cultures and races. This, combined with his ever-present sense of Liverian superiority might unnecessarily create tensions in unfamiliar surroundings.


      An Unmarked Letter. Dear Father.

      This may very well be the last you'll ever receive from me. It seems that for all your begging and grovelling that my incident with Baron Holte was not entirely forgotten.

      Three nights ago, as I was sitting in my study prying forth the secrets of the ancients I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my back. As the gods would have it, I was in fact being stabbed in the back. The would-be assassin seemed surprised when I turned to face him with his dagger in my spine, he was further surprised when I grabbed him by the throat and beat his head against my study desk. Oh, in a clearer mind I would have beat him just enough to question the lad, but the brute must have coated his blade in some sort of mind altering venom. I was so utterly consumed with rage that I was powerless to prevent myself from killing him outright.

      Alas, some god must have been on my side as though he bore no markings or letters of note, he did possess silver coins of such fine mint no one other than our spiteful Baron could have commissioned him.

      It is clear that all of your talk about diplomacy and 'making right' is just that, talk. The Baron and his creed do not speak the language of diplomacy, they speak only a unique dialect of lies, daggers in the dark and hired thugs. They fear only action and that is what I intend to bring them, they strike out from the shadows so I will bring them into light.

      And what a great light it would be! I have unearthed a tome from the time of the Renaltan kingdom detailing the location of Kouri! Yes, as mad as it may sound I know where she slumbers and if all goes right I may bring her back to the land of living. Imagine what could be done? Imagine how the barons and dukes would grovel and bow. If they don't? Well, with the power of Kouri on my side I will simply have them destroyed. It is for the good of our family, for the good of all Liveria.

      Don't about Yvette and the twins, they've already gone into hiding with her parents. I'm far more trusting in the hospitality of peasants than whatever 'care' you may be able to provide.

      Also, I might as well inform you now before you discover it for yourself, I have requisitioned Grandfather's armaments from the armoury for my quest. They were meant to be used, not stuck on some rack to rust away to nothing in the darkness. Besides, it's what he would have wanted, not to accuse of caring for his legacy or anything. To make up for this I have taken up his true name, Hawker.

      I wish you luck and hope that assassins do not target anyone else. Who knows, they may go for mother, Ruford or even young Cennick next.

      With Regards.

      Your son, the former Wayne Greenborough

    • The Warrior Seer
      Name: Geordi Rotdierk.
      Age: Twenty-Five.
      Sex: Male.
      Appearance: Rotdierk a normal enough man, standing about even with his fellows and sporting an average, though well balanced physique that speaks of a physical occupation. His dirty blonde hair is kept short, but unkempt, preferring to hide it under a hat for the most part anyways. If these were his only traits he might be considered handsome, but his sallow skin, trollish posture and vacant eyes that not only stare into, but passionately eye-fuck the abyss.

      The heavy, dark clothing he often wears reeks of his drug habit, the pungent odour giving all in a considerate radius a solid idea of the seer's preferred pastime.

      Image belongs to this fellow.

      Kouri Plushy.

      • Live by the Sword: Raised by a group of mercenaries from a young age the seer spent a good portion of his formative years practising his swordcraft and now earns a meagre living as a sword for hire. Not surprisingly, he is fearsome combatant.
      • Preternatural Reflexes: Rotdierk's reflexes are nigh-inhuman, his ability to fight off multiple opponents at once and dodge projectiles are legendary among the few that know of him. He tries to claim his skill is little more than the result of a lifetime of training helped by a dash of natural skill. Others aren't quick to accept this explanation and (rightfully) suspect some sort of supernatural influence.
      • True Knowledge: Rotdierk's vacant expression belies a sort of faux omniscience. To others it seems like he 'sees' into the future, but the seer himself perceives it more as just knowing. A constant stream of unrelated information with no filter. This overwhelming deluge of thoughts is often incomprehensible, doing little more than slowly driving the seer further into madness, but occasionally a clear bit of information sneaks through, giving Rotdierk a small glimpse into the future.
      • Mental Barrier: In an attempt to stem the flow of information and maintain some semblance of mental integrity, Rotdierk has sought out various mystics to instil a wall of sorts into his mind. Though only partially successful it does help keep the seer and provides a handy barrier to any beings who may try to influence him.
      • Predestined Fate: The seer 'knows' when he will die. As a result he does not show any fear in dangerous situations 'knowing' he will come out on top.

      • Slave of the Poppy: Opium, the juice of the poppy loved by den-bound junkies the world over. Only when in it's dulling embrace does Rotdierk ever know peace, fully damming his mind and wiping away all of his worries. After years of abuse the drug is starting to take a toll on him, slowly draining his health and sending him into fits should he not partake frequently enough.
      • Abominable: The seer's power has earned him the disgust of the Rheinfeld Templar and if he is ever discovered by them they will surely seek his head. The witchhunters of Liveria too, unable to discern the source of his powers and afraid of what may happen should he ever gain full control over them, view Rotdierk with great suspicion and may one day decide to send agents to end him. Just to be safe.
      • No Stranger More Strange: Whether it's his dishevelled appearance, obvious drug habit, unnerving abilities, dark reputation or uncomfortable philosophies Rotdierk has trouble finding hospitality anywhere. Noble and serf alike are put off by the wandering seer and he may have trouble getting along with anyone not seeking his services.


      This was going to be the last time, Rotdierk knowingly lied to himself. Finding himself in a pool of piss, feces and god's know what else and not caring whether it belonged to him or one of the pale shades of men that shared the small, musky room with him. His senses where returning to him, the noise of a thousand futures forcing their way inside his foggy mind. Most incomprehensible, but a few bits stood out. Yes, the excrement he was sitting in was his. Yay. The man beside him was a formerly a tanner, until of course he turned to opium after his wife and children died to fever. Pleasant. Lastly, an attendant would come in and ask if he wanted any more. Not he needed his powers to know that, they would always come and ask and give and ask and give until you ran out of money or died. It's just a way these people were.

      "Would you like any more Mr. Rotdierk."

      Oh fuck. They knew his name, that was a good enough sign to leave on it's own. He scrambled to his feet and mustering all the dignity his shit-stained form could afford attempted to say, "No ma'am, I'm sorry but I must take my leave. Destiny awaits and I'm not one to leave her waiting." What he actually mumbled was, "Bitch, get my pants. I got shit to do."

      Classic Rotdierk.

      After a much deserved slap to the face he stumbled his way to the requisitioner. Or whatever the guy who held his stuff was called. He didn't really care. With a glare the man silently rummaged through a chest, producing a couple of swords, a decent pair of boots and the seer's signature hat and coat and laid it out on the floor. "My purse too, I know I wasn't here long enough for you to fully rob me this time."

      He marched from the wretched den, standing far too tall for a man reeking of piss. The judging stares of the locals doing nothing to dishearten him. Destiny was indeed waiting and while he was dead certain the form she would take wouldn't like what she would see waiting there for her, Rotdierk didn't care. It was time to be part of something bigger than himself, the princesses sensibilities be damned.

    #15 Snakey, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: May 30, 2016

  14. Ah, so you've decided to bring yourself to this adventure, have you? Crossed beyond the veil to make this journey? Then let me be your guide. From here on out, you may call me Fate, and I will help you to understand how to get started here. There are no stats, or traits, but some information is required for me to imbue your soul within the right body. Wouldn't want to accidentally put you into the body of a cat now, would we?

    Name: Wanderer Rahim (or just Rahim. The title is mostly self-imposed.)

    Age: 19.

    Sex: Male

    Appearance: (Credit goes to Aiuke.) Rahim is a colossal individual. He stands at an impressive 7 foot, 2 inches, and weighs in at more than the average boulder. Pretty much the entirety of Rahim’s mass is muscle, and he knows it. His skin is darker than average, although not quite as tan as a Free-Holder’s, and he is rarely seen out of his normal attire, which is a pair of simple, tan trousers, and a pair of leather sandals. His head shows some hints of an unusual heritage, with pointed ears and white hair. Although he tells people he is not an elf, some people seem confused by the ears. It seems that somewhere in his recent genealogy, someone was a bit of a deviant.

    Fate looks you over, and nods with approval. She starts to design your body, and motions to you to continue inputting further information.

    Strengths -

    The Sturdy: Rahim is a strong man. Not just by normal standards, either. Rahim is a goddamned juggernaut of muscle and strength. If he actually understood what coin is, he’d be able to earn a shit tonne of it by slamming drunken people’s knuckles against a table. Instead, he uses it to swing about his impressive Great axe or just to crush people’s skulls or something…People like to assume he crushes skulls.
    The Strong-of-Arm: Did I mention that Rahim is strong? Because he’s strong. Damn strong, even! Rahim’s strength is channelled very effectively into his combat style, which is honed in equal parts by his heritage and by his traveling. Rahim’s particular style favours crushing an opponent’s guard, helm, and skull in a single, brutal cleave that makes blocking pretty much not an option. Some people have accused him of being slow, but what do they know? They’re dead.
    The Resilient: Rahim is a sturdy kind of person, able to take as much punishment as he is able to dish out: maybe even more. Not only is he physically sturdy though, but he is also good at resisting the dull touch of fear, or panic.
    The Fury: When Rahim’s blood begins to boil from the rigors and excitement of battle, he begins to see red in a very real way. Rahim’s rage pushes his body towards its utmost peak, and sometimes beyond. Where a normal man would crumple, a raging Rahim would stand, grinning. Where a normal person would fall into shock, Rahim will fight through it. Sadly, such a furious rage is not without its weaknesses. For one, Rahim is not invincible. He is still taking damage, and even while raging, he will eventually break. Also worth noting is that after he comes down from his rage, Rahim will feel the full effects of exhaustion on his body and more. Putting such strain on his body is like running a marathon, while lifting up a small horse, while sprinting.

    Weaknesses -

    Conspicuous: Rahim is not hard to miss. In fact, he’s damn near impossible to miss, even if you’re blind. He is loud, tall, and kind of abnormal. Compared to Rahim, even a blue-haired noble might seem easier to miss. This of course makes stealth impossible, and if Rahim should ever make a name for himself then, for better or for worse, people will be able to pick him out from a crowd.
    ‘Street-Smart’: Rahim doesn’t know much about how to function in the civilised world. He doesn’t much understand the point of money, and he doesn’t really get the basics of common manners, or the nuances of common civilization. Some people have abused this fact in the past, and earned high-paying work from the wandering Amazonian for the equivalent of a three copper meal. It also goes without saying that Rahim can’t read or write.
    Matri-focal society: Born in a society that focuses on the importance of women, and a society that reverse powerful female leaders, Rahim is equally reverent of strong women: especially ones who show a strong character. If Rahim is forced to fight a woman, he would struggle to land the killing blow unless said woman was threatening an ally. He would also struggle to resist questioning by any woman powerful enough to hold a leadership position, unless it were to defend the honours of an equally important female figure.

    Fate nods with appreciation, and ushers you to the final section. She then slips beside you, and whispers you to be careful about what you wish your life to be: It will have long lasting consequences, and may mean the difference between whether or not Kouri will accept you...

    Biography: Born amongst the Amazonians of the Dark Forest, Rahim quickly realised that he had the wrong parts between his legs. He always knew that he’d wanted to be a fighter, or a hunter, but he was considered unusual in that desire. When he was eight, Rahim made his intentions clear to his mother, who mostly ignored it as the mewlings of an unknowing cub.

    He didn't grow out of it though. Instead, Rahim was allowed to train the other younglings. People still thought it mostly a phase still, at this point, but Rahim continued to take to the fighting and the hunting that his people loved so much.

    Rahim grew sturdy and strong, and kept growing sturdier, and stronger still. By the time he was Sixteen, Rahim was easily the tallest amongst his tribe, and amongst the strongest. He was ready and proud to become a warrior of the tribe, an equal to the others of his age. He was soon denied though, told that he was not meant to be warrior. At this point, Rahim decided to leave the tribe. After all, he had heard many-a-time about the strange world outside of the huge forests of his Amazonian home.

    ...And so, he left the Dark Forest.

    For a year, Rahim wandered outside, in the unfamiliar world without a canopy. He eventually found himself working as a malaligned mercenary. He didn't much understand the world outside of the Dark Forest, but the group was good to him, and offered to feed him for his weapon arm.

    Eventually though, he found himself near one of the small villages that made up the remnants of Old Renalta. A strange place, where people seemed oddly cowed, and held onto little blue-haired rag dolls of some women from folklore called the Kouri Plushie, or some such. He had moved away from the previously mentioned Mercenary group, and now works alone. He is mostly just bored of simple, tedious mercenary work, and hopes to find something...more.

    As you finish writing information, Fate snaps her fingers, and the scroll you were writing upon vanishes. Darkness wraps around you, and you are born into the mortal realm, without any previous memories, to begin your life...
    #16 LimeyPanda, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Dec 15, 2015
  15. Is there still a chance at getting in on this RP or does it seems like there's plenty of people who've already applied?
  16. I'll be approving sheets based on quality, not when they were put in. I'll get to doing that when the IC is released. So you have until when the IC is released to put out the best CS you can to compete for a slot. If you have any questions about the world or otherwise, feel free to ask. The IC's release date will be announced later. :ferret:
  17. Alright, thank you. I'd just rather not put in the effort if it seems like there's already plenty of high quality posters. It'd be disrespectful to the RP to assume there's any room for myself when other, faster, more skilled people are already here. I'll be WIP'ing away then. :)
    • Love Love x 1
  18. Author's Note: This is my first time writing a profile on Iwaku. Feel free to tell me how I can improve or where I make critical errors. :)


    Zhong LiWei (钟李伟) (Pronounced "lee way" with emphasis on second syllable)
    LiWei not an imposing, nor an intimidating figure. He stands at a solid 5 feet and 5 inches, or around 165 cm with a medium stature, weighing in at around 150 lbs or around 68 kg. The most distinct thing about his person would be his lack of hair; indeed, LiWei is completely bald, a fact he jokingly attributes to stressing out too much. He has strong eyebrows that frame the rest of his face, giving him a permanently angry expression as soon as his smile drops. The eyebrows are black, with some white hairs beginning to show. He has dark eyes and his skintone is well-tanned from long days in the sun. He has several strange runes about his forearms and calves, which he hides with strips of cloth that he pretends are bandages.

    The man's clothing and wearables speak to a life on his own. LiWei's only valuable object is a jade pendant on a simple string. The jade pendant has LiWei's name carved in the back. On the front, a strange deer with overly long legs and a single horn like a unicorn can be seen. Both carvings are well-worn and the jade itself is of a relatively cheap quality. His boots are probably worth more(in terms of "mug him and sell his stuff" value) than his necklace. LiWei's clothing mostly consists of simple cotton shirts and pants. He also keeps a particularly thick and ratty cloak to keep out the occasional rains. Most of his belongings are in a large bag he carries with him, made of leather and well-oiled to keep out the weather. Inside are various bits of food, pouches, some carving knives, twine, a roll of some furs to sleep on, a Kouri Plushie given by a child when he arrived for good luck, and whatever small amounts of money he can scrape together at a time. LiWei tends to wear a ludicrously wide-brimmed leather hat (possibly to hide his bald head).

    LiWei's movements tend towards slowness and deliberation. He carries himself as if all he touches is precious and fragile. He refuses to be hurried, no matter what he does, but neither does he hesitate when he decides on an action. He tends to keep his head high, usually to meet the gaze of taller and more imposing people he deals with. His voice is deep for a man of his stature and can be seen as somewhat comical. The last thing to note about him would be that he seems to not have any weapons on his person at all, save for an obviously-for-hunting bow, a carving knife, and some handmade arrows.

    • Smooth Talking: He's grown up in the complex social dynamics of his family, and thus LiWei has a tendency to be both easy to talk to and easy to negotiate with so long as he isn't deliberately angered. He comes off as generally quiet but somehow avoids the image of someone who is weak or easily stepped upon. He uses his skills mostly to keep himself out of harm's way and deescalate tensions. He genuinely believes that all conflicts could probably be solved by talking it out with an open heart and understanding mind.
    • Hands Like Iron, Feet Like Rock: LiWei isn't to be trifled with in a fight. Although he doesn't usually look for combat, the markings on his arms and legs give him an extra oomph. In particular, his limbs can block things that should be impossible for flesh such as blades, arrows, or magic. He has a tendency to hide this and can willingly "activate" his runes by sheer force of will, allowing him to pretend to be weaker than he is. Although his runes give him a slightly harder punch, he cannot dispel magic or break armor by using this ability offensively.
    • Defender: LiWei is also capable of generating fields of protective energy for any big things he can't defend himself, such as multiple projectiles or an overwhelming mass of force. This works by sapping LiWei's strength the longer he keeps it up, although he can keep a barrier strong enough to stop rain for full night. The stronger the barrier, the more energy he needs and therefore the shorter period of time it can be maintained. He can center a barrier around himself or another person, or he can project a general field about the size of himself. His barrier works in both ways- nothing in, nothing out. LiWei must see the attack coming in order to "charge up" his ability, in other words the stronger the attack he blocks, the longer time he needs to prepare the energy needed to block it.
    • Compassionate, Empathetic: He is inherently kind and compassionate. If he were starving to death, he would still offer food someone else in need if the situation called for it. LiWei genuinely believes that one should be the change they want to see in the world and he strives for ever-higher levels of selflessness. He hates to punish or hurt anyone, and killing anything save for food reflects upon him as a personal failure. He doesn't claim to love the world or anything like that, but even his deepest enemies would find it difficult to deny his gentle nature.
    • Strong-Willed: LiWei comes with all the inner strength needed to maintain his gentleness and his abilities. If something disagrees with him, LiWei will do all in his power to keep himself from aligning with it. No matter the torture, manipulation, even at the risk of letting himself or his friends die. LiWei chooses his path, deliberately and assuredly, and will refuse anything that would keep him off it. There's likely nothing that could dissuade him once he's decided what he believes he should do.

    • Excuse me I do nOT LIKE TO BE DISTURBED: LiWei values his privacy very highly and grows particularly suspicious of anyone that tries to get to know him beyond basic acquaintances. Despite his friendly demeanor and kindly nature, he rarely discusses his private life with others. He prefers to be interested in other people's private lives. He will flip the fuck out anyone tries to delve through his objects and will choose dangerous places to sleep if his only other option is to sleep with others. In simple terms, he will likely choose danger over safety if safety means being more open to people or depending on them in matters he considers private or shameful(e.g. his limbs, his trauma). This is hypocritical on his part, despite his belief in having an open heart and being the change he wants to see.
    • Stubborn As Hell: If he has decided upon something, well, good luck ever convincing him otherwise. He takes a long time to decide on something but when he does he's damn near unshakeable. All the tools he uses to resist hardship are all also utilized whenever he doesn't want to be convinced of something. It also means that if he takes a liking to someone, he's likely to support them regardless of their goodness.
    • English Is My Third Language: LiWei speaks with a very stilted accent. He's not from around here and, although he can be very eloquent, it takes him a long time to translate his thoughts to the language of the land. He's clearly intelligent, but his lack of vocabulary and occasionally awkward grammar can make people look down on him as some uneducated bumpkin. He will miss most slang, occasional social cues such as sarcasm, and probably can't keep up if someone decided to speak to him in a quick manner.
    • These Limbs Aren't Mine: LiWei's hands and feet aren't his original ones and they come with caveats for the blessing of having them. He has to maintain more focus than most in order to work them as if they are normal hands and feet. If he is tired (e.g. from a fight, during a fight, lack of sleep, stress, etc.) or emotionally upset he may lose ability to use one or more of his limbs. This predictably sends him into a panic, which causes this effect to become exacerbated the longer he is without use all of his limbs. To make matters worse, LiWei will typically refuse all help when he is in this state, nor will he explain when he realizes he's pushing himself too far. His inability to trust others and his stubbornness usually causes him to put more strain on himself, thereby making sudden failures significantly more common (and usually at the worst time) than they should ordinarily be.
    • A Fear of Fire: Liwei cannot stand being too close to fire. He will tolerate it enough to warm his body and cook his food but he despises the stuff. Fire magic in particular makes him frightened and panicky. He hates the smell of burning flesh and any threat of being burned terrifies him. Any situation in which he is helpless to fire will cause him to act out more on fear than rationality. He may lose his ability to speak.

    Zhong LiWei was born into the Zhong clan of a faraway land. He was born in a season of intense warring lords, vying for ever-greater power amongst themselves. The Zhongs themselves were a particularly powerful family; they were either lords themselves or the close civil servants of them. His father was a well-regarded sage and his mother was a wealthy merchant before she settled down. He was born into a clan of smooth-talking, political people and he quickly absorbed the ways of carrying and holding onesself in a way worthy of the Zhong clan. He learned that spies were everywhere and found that the most valuable asset was your tongue and your brain. He learned that there wasn't much difference between good and evil. He found that conflicts were not objects with two sides, but spheres that could be argued to have only one side or an infinite number of them.

    Everything went particularly wrong when the family patriarch called for the annual meeting when LiWei was twelve. LiWei's nuclear family saddled up on their horses and settled in their carriages to head out. His family was raided by a group of lawless bandits, the kind who took full advantage of the chaos from the warring nobles. His family only kept a few close guards, which were quickly cut down. At the young age of twelve, LiWei watched his family be beaten and their possessions taken. LiWei himself was taken by bandits for ransom. LiWei spent the next six months alone and frightened. The Zhong family refused to pay the ransom out of pride.

    The leader, a big gruff fellow he only knew as Boar (猪), decided that he would test the pride of the family for his own entertainment. Using a cruel mix of healing and fire magic so he wouldn't die, Boar began to remove LiWei's hands and feet at the mid-forearm or mid-calf, eventually removing both hands and feet. The Boar had had his fun and the Zhong clan had shown their internal strength and resolve. Afterwards, Boar left LiWei to be picked up by his family in a place away from the bandit camp. It isn't certain if LiWei ever forgave his family. For months while his wounds healed fully, he lived unable to feed or clothe himself. It was the most humiliating thing he had ever experienced before or since and he vowed that he would never allow himself to be humiliated like this again.

    A cure was found when LiWei was sixteen. The patriarch had found an old sage living across the mountains that had agreed to cure LiWei. LiWei was carried by servants over the long distance to the sage's living quarters. There, the sage performed an act that LiWei would never express or speak about. He had never seen such magic before; he had never even known such magic could exist. This sage claimed he learned magic from distant lands, and so this kind of magic wasn't known to the people here. It was a mysterious kind that took the earth, the feathers of birds, and -supposedly- a shard of the moon to craft him new, better limbs. Inspired, he decided he would travel to learn magic.

    When LiWei came back home, his family cheered and encouraged him back to their social fold. However, he was no longer interested in the politics and high social caste the Zhongs belong to. LiWei craved the hardship of travel and the distant lands the old sage told him about. It made the warring lords the Zhongs involved themselves in seem like a small, selfish thing and he wanted none of it anymore.

    When he was eighteen, LiWei left his home to travel short trips. However, every time he came home, he felt more and more disgusted with everything he saw. The decadence. The wealth. The careless spending. The lack of generosity for the poor and the downtrodden. By the time he was twenty-two, he had grown so disgusted with his clan that he cut off all contact entirely.

    Ever since, he's been traveling. The money ran out years ago and he spent almost the last of his coin to come to this distant land. He's so far spent his time in the Renaltan Remnants, getting to know the language and the culture for the past two years amongst a populace neither isolationist nor religious. Now he feels he's got a good enough grasp via immersion to strike out and explore more of the region, come hell or high water.
    #20 Soulless, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Dec 15, 2015
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