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

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Name: Pat Quinn
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Appearance: When looking at Pat the one thing that really stands out is his sky blue eyes looking out of a weathered face with a near permenant covering of stubble. the years of travelling the roads with Jess have kept him fit and lean and while usually travell stained his clothes are tyically in good repair. he has a few scars from tumbles or fights over the years but nothing openly visible or debilitating under typical conditions.

Biography:
Pat was born the fourth child of a large family in a village fairly deep in the region known as the Renaltan Remnants. His father was a trader and would regularly travel between the villages plying his trade and from the age of ten Pat would travel with him, on his first trip outside to the heartland villages he purchased a hand made plushie of the legendary renaltan princess to give his younger sister on their return home. While he enjoyed the travel the life of a trader was not one he found himself over fond of.

On the eve of his fifteenth birthday his parents purchased a black and while patterned filly for him. He named her Jess and took to caring for and training her as his top priority. In the two years that followed pat stayed at home and assisted his mother when he wasn't with Jess, while his siblings travelled with their father instead. By the time he was seventeen, Jess was well trained and old enough to be ridden safely. Pat's mother had long been aware of his preference not to return to the trading life with his father and so encouraged him to find a trade of his own while his father was away.

It started out simple enough, with Jess he could travel and without a cart he could do so quicker than his father. Occasionally his father would carry letters for the villagers when he was trading his wares and so pat started asking around the village if anyone had a letter or small package they needed to get to someone in another town. A couple of the local villagers had letters that his father had said he would take in two weeks time after he returned from his current trip as he had been travelling in the other direction for his trade. Pat offered to take the letters directly for half the price his father normally did. The villagers agreed and pat was on the road the following day and making good time.

When he delivered the letters, Pat repeated the process of asking around if anyone wanted a letter or small parcel delivered and again found a few people happy to pay the small price for a timely delivery. This went on for the next four villages before Pat turned back towards his home, again with letters for people living there. He returned a day before his father was due with a tidy little profit in hand for his efforts.

With his initial unplanned 'trial run' over Pat set to designing a schedule that he believed he could stick to, based loosely on his fathers system. His father upon seeing his initiative when he returned, sat with Pat and helped him list out the various trader contacts he had in the villages and border towns who could perhaps act as collection agents for Pat, saving the boy from visiting every villager every time he got to a village to see if they have anything to send. His father chuckled when Pat revealed he had undercut his prices, but as it had never been a prime earner in his own business he had not been overly critical of the move.

Years on, Pat and Jess are familiar faces in the villages across the renalta region and are known in the border towns. Pat keeps a regular schedule of pickup and delivery with the villages and otherwise lives an ordinary life. He has occasioned to see what more he can do to expand his little delivery service over the years but the needs of the villages are not so grand in that respect as to warrant much more than he offers already.
 
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Name: Jaro Kalogreant
Age: 26 (557)
Sex: Male
Appearance:
armor_study_by_rhinoting-d51drnz.jpg


Image stolen from Johnsonting

Jaro is never seen outside of his suit of full plate armour. From the bear-skin cloak he wears over his shoulders, the tabard without a coat of arms, to the chain and leather lining between the joints of his armour, not a single inch of flesh is exposed. Jaro also carries with him, a modest arsenal of weapons, suited for the fields of battle: Longsword, war hammer, short sword, dagger, spear, and a medium sized heater shield



Strengths:
  • Knight: Skilled in armoured and unarmoured combat, with a variety of weapons, including mounted combat.
  • Duellist: While skilled enough with most arms, Jaro's favorite is his longsword and shield, while locked combat with one other skilled opponent
  • Hollow: Jaro is no longer human. He is literally, the suit of armour. In ordinary combat, he is almost unstoppable. He does not tire, he cannot be wounded. Even dismemberment is just an inconvenience, as he can reattach lost limbs.

Weaknesses:
  • Enslaved: Whoever possesses his Phylactery, has absolute control over Jaro.
  • Light: For a front line tank, Jaro is very, very light in weight. Lacking the benefit of a body of flesh, he weighs less than eighty pounds. This means he can be pushed around surprisingly easily, or simply lifted out of the way.
  • Haunted: His past has lead him to being terrified of any Lich, and to being scared of children. He avoids children as much as he possibly can, and cannot harm a child. Even if a child were to be attacking him, he would try to disengage and flee, and if that is impossible, he would simply defend himself, or take the attacks. If a child is attacking someone he has sworn to defend...he does not know what he would do.
  • Socially Awkward: He is an empty suit of armour, with a skeleton melded into it. He smells of death and dust. His voice echoes. He has no eyes. People tend to find Jaro uncomfortable to be around.
  • Phylactery: Being a hybrid of a Lich and a Golem, Jaro's physical form is powered by the Phylactery. Like all Liches, if his body takes enough of a beating, the energy that sustains it will run out, and he will simply fall apart, until his phylactery generates enough energy to get him working again. He can take substantially more of a beating than a normal Lich, but he can be worn down.
  • Unnatural: If Templar or Witch Hunters discover what Jaro is, it is likely that either faction would begin seeking means to destroy him.
Biography:
Jaro hailed from Rheinfeld, centuries ago, raised as a Templar. Strong and powerful, Jaro was heroic, a slayer of mages and magical beasts. He would likely have become a hero, a figure of legend, if he had managed to live long enough. However, he was arrogant, and far too proud to realize his mistake, when he tracked down an ancient Lich.

The Lich went only by the name of Silas, and in toying with the Templar, determined that his skills would be valuable, like a well trained German Shepherd...once he was broken. Silas captured, tortured, and experimented on Jaro, breaking the noble down. Destroying his will, his resistance, before using a macabre ritual to rend his flesh from bone, and melding the skeletal remains with steel, forging Jaro into something that was a hybrid of Golem and Undead. Jaro's soul, rended and processed, was forged into a phylactery, a sphere of steel, encasing bones, teeth, and other remnants of his body. Who ever possesses the sphere, possesses Jaro. Yet Silas was far from stupid, and enchanted the Phylactery with layers of defenses, that would cause crippling agony, should Jaro attempt to just touch the sphere, even if he were to attempt to push through such terrible infernal pain, to succeed in grasping the sphere; it would severe the connection between Phylactery and Body, rendering Jaro prisoner within the Phylactery, and unable to move or act, until such time as the Sphere was removed from contact with the armour.

Centuries passed as Silas' Guardian, and pet.

The subjugation of Jaro's existence by Silas was finally terminated during his third century, when a band of Templars finally destroyed the Lich, while Jaro had been sent to deal with one of Silas' schemes. When he returned, he found the lair of the Lich in ruins. He could sense his phylactery was buried within, and determined it was safe enough for the time being.


Yet, he returned to the task he had been set to. He returned to the task of kidnapping children, breaking them, and preparing them for Silas to come and collect them. They aged. They died. He collected more. Raped them. Forced them to fight each other. Starved them. Tortured them.


For decades, this process continued. For decades, Silas never came. Never collected the children. The pits of dead flesh rotted and festered, until a plague swept through the cavern lair, leaving the captives dead, within a week. The routine could not continue. The children did not move when he proded them with brands. The red hot irons bursting pustules provoked no screams.


....The program ended. Orders incomplete.


A crack formed. A crack in the armour he formed to save his sanity. The crack propagated exponentially, shattering his masquerade. Jaro awakened. Horror. Revulsion. Overwhelming self-loathing.


The memories of the past centuries collapsed upon his psyche like a nuclear implosion. Everything, all of the torture he had been subjected to. All of the pain he had dealt out, all of the atrocities he had committed. Every last second of it. Down to the realization that...he had, in his avoidance of it all, came to enjoy the atrocities he had committed.


He could not retch. He could not cry. All his form could let him do, was wail in futility. Rage against heinous acts he had willingly participated in. To adequately express the emotions which shredded Jaro's soul, would be impossible, as there are no words to convey such a level of agony. It would be as futile as attempting to describe colour, to someone who only sees in black and white. It is something that can only be understood, if one could perceive it.


When he was able to collect himself, Jaro did the only thing he felt he was capable of, and tried to cleanse the site with fire, while praying to the Mother and Father to take the souls of the children into their care, try and heal them in some way....any way. He wanted to beg for forgiveness of his own actions. He wanted to beg them to take him away from this. Yet... he could not. He could not, until he had suffered penance for his failures. He had to attempt to atone for his sins.


A century passed, as Jaro did what he could to protect people, without really revealing himself. He knew well that the idea of what he was would unsettle most, and horrify many, possibly inciting the curiosity of the Templars themselves.


It was during this period of his existence, that Jaro met Marcus, purely by chance. Finding a caravan being attacked by a strong mass of bandits, Jaro threw himself into the fray. Bandits were used to dealing with lightly armoured caravan guards. Having a crashing figure charging at the backs in full plate armour out of no where, was something that disrupted their encirclement with authority. Blade and shield worked in unison, deflecting the frantic swings of the bandits, opening their guard, and then sending them to the ground with graceful lunges, arcs of crimson from deep cutting slashes, or brutal pommel strikes, impacts from his shield, or a heavy handed blow with a gauntleted fist. Marcus, took advantage of the distraction, to push out of the perimeter of the circle of wagons, bringing with him a contingent of caravan guards to bully through the space between then and the crossbowmen.


In the gruesome aftermath, Marcus approached the armoured figure of Jaro, noticing two heads of crossbow bolts waggling under Jaro's left armpit, the rest of the shafts seeming to hang inside of what should be a body. To be entangled as they were, they would had to have punched crosswise from the right, and just one of them would have been a mortal wound for any man, yet this armoured figured didn't even appear to notice them. Even stranger, was there was no blood upon the bodkin points. After tending to the wounded and the dead, Marcus spoke with the Golem-Lich, recognizing a valuable potential ally when he saw one. He offered Jaro training, and a cause to fight for, to exist for. A righteous path to follow. Somewhere he could call home in a world that for the most part, would rather see him destroyed.
 
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Name: Kalemn Weller - Art by qiqo on DeviantArt
Age: 24
Sex: Female
Appearance: 5'5"/165cm; 145lbs/65kg. Long, greasy brown hair. Dark brown eyes, right eye pale from cataracts. Old burn scars across face. Missing little finger of right hand.

Strengths:
  • Hardy - Kalemn has suffered her fair share of blows, and has persevered nevertheless.
  • Raider - With plenty of experience under her belt, Kalemn has almost mastered the art of moving through the woods stealthily and quietly. Especially under cover of darkness.
  • Fighter - With a cheap sword in one hand and a glorified plank of wood in the other, Kalemn has been fighting to earn steal a living for over a decade. While not of legendary stock, considering her main foes have been villagers armed with clubs and spades, she is still capable of holding her own in most situations.

Weaknesses:
  • Poor Eyesight - After being struck with a torch, her face boasts an impressive array of burn scars, and her right eye is pale with cataracts, leaving it largely blind.
  • Uneducated - Raised amongst bandits, there was a noticeable lack of opportunity for Kalemn to learn her letters or numbers.
  • Injured Parties - Her scars are nothing if not memorable, and there are plenty of villagers hailing from the Renaltan remnants who might recognize the outlaw.

Biography:

[spacer]Kalemn was born and raised amidst a group of bandits in the remnants of Renalta. Some of their food was from hunting, but for the most part they subsisted off of raiding nearby villages or even traders travelling between Liveria and Rheinfield when they were feeling confident. Not exactly the most benign of lifestyles, but without any formal authority or law, there was little to stop them.[/spacer]
[spacer]During her youngest years, growing up a child of the bandits wasn't that much different from growing up in a village. Children fought over toys and kouri plushies, and there was a sense of community and familiarity between the outlaws. Work for the young was plentiful, as the adults asked for help with repairs made to tents or with saddling and hitching horses. Sure, people would often return home bloody and weary, or perhaps not return at all, but it was treated as a simple fact of life.[/spacer]
[spacer]And as Kalemn grew older, her responsibilities began to expand outside the confines of the roaming camp. She helped scout out villages, steal livestock under the cover of night, and lay traps for passing caravans. Then when she was strong enough to hold a sword, she became a full fledged outlaw, raiding villages and fighting merchant's guards. At home she would tell exaggerated stories of her exploits to her father while her mother tsk-ed and sewed shut wounds. Some of these wounds were minor, scratches and cuts that would heal in a few days. Others were more severe, such as when a defiant villager seared her face with a torch a moment before one of her fellow bandits fought the man off.[/spacer]
[spacer]Despite the danger, she's never had much of a problem with her lifestyle. But like many young adults, Kalemn can't help but wonder about what life would be like beyond the current holding pattern. Of the wonders of the world beyond the woods she's always lived in.[/spacer]
 
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Huh, I can see some 'interesting discissions' between Pat and Kalemn should both be accepted.....
 
Gat said:
Huh, I can see some 'interesting discissions' between Pat and Kalemn should both be accepted.....
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Probably not the same sort of interesting discussions that Samuel would have with people.

"What do you mean peasant that you won't chew my food for me!"

Just kidding, he's not that bad :p
 
Gat said:
Huh, I can see some 'interesting discissions' between Pat and Kalemn should both be accepted.....
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F is for friends who do things together, U is for you and meee...

Edit: Pat better keep that tattletale mouth shut. In a pinch, you ditch the snitch.
 
HerziQuerzi said:
F is for friends who do things together, U is for you and meee...

Edit: Pat better keep that tattletale mouth shut. In a pinch, you ditch the snitch.
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Considering you've probably tried to rob him at some point over the years :p
Who knows, you may have even succeeded.
Maybe the torch was his handywork :p would mean some backstory editing but hey if we're both accepted I don't see why we couldn't do that.
 
Kadaeux said:
.
Probably not the same sort of interesting discussions that Samuel would have with people.

"What do you mean peasant that you won't chew my food for me!"

Just kidding, he's not that bad :p
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He's worse?
 
It's been a while since I did a Brovo thing, but I'll be damned if I'm not up for another one. X)

 Vickas Kanner
The Wandering Guardsman​
Age: 35
Sex: Male
Appearance: As shown on the right; art was pilfered by 'Titanbolzen' on deviantart. Vickas' ears are fairly long, and his complexion is a mix between elven and humanoid: making it obvious to others that he's a half-elf (or half-human, to elves.) His hair long, well-kempt, and of a deep black - his skin is peachy-pale, and his body shape is large, muscular, and imposing. His eyes are of a greenish-blue color, though he often wears a full helmet in combat to hide these features.

~ ~ ~ (Oh yeah, Kouri Plushies~.)

Strengths
>Man of Steel: This half-elf will not go down easily. In combat, Vickas is hard to bring down, and when he holds a point - it's very difficult for enemies to shift him off that spot. He's durable in combat, and his thick skin and armor will take a strong blow for Vickas to truly feel the impact. It'll take a strong poison to paralyse him with alchemical trickery, too.
>Way of the Spear: Vickas' spear feels like an extension of his own arm. He can attack whilst undercover with a fearsome stab, and barrage enemies with relentless stabs. If Vickas ever drops his shield and wields his spear in two hands, his defensive capability is reduced, but he unleashes his true fighting form, increasing his offensive capability considerably.
>Remarkable Reflexes: Whilst his agility isn't anything special, Vickas' reflexes are something else. He can spin around and block a sneak attack from the sound of the blade whistling through the air, or snap to a new stance and stab an enemy to the ground at the perfect moment as if he's a well-oiled machine. If you think this guardsman is dopey and slow, you've got another thing coming.
>Selfless Protection: Vickas will happily lay down and die for those he cares about, and even some strangers who he thinks deserve his aid. When Vickas is standing near the presence of an ally, he'll often intercept and block attacks intended to hit them, usually negating any injuries towards them, and sometimes taking an injury himself instead.
>As One: Vickas is used to fighting alongside others, especially melee fighters. Even if he's not too familiar with the person, Vickas can effectively fight alongside another melee user, blocking attacks for them whilst striking in unison, and positioning himself in areas where he won't get in the way.

Weaknesses
>Fear of Magic: Due to a past he'd rather keep to himself, Vickas is always uncomfortable around magic of any kind - but in particular, fire. Fire used even under non-magical circumstances makes Vickas uncomfortable. Whilst he doesn't hate magic users, seeing magic in use can bring back flashbacks. Vickas will never be able to learn magic himself, and using enchanted gear isn't really recommend for him.
>Unstable Mind: Vickas' past is embedded within his mind, whether he likes it or not. If somebody somehow knows how to bring those memories back and force them into his mind, Vickas can be mentally broken.
>Rhienfield-Fearing: If anybody ever reveals that they're from Rhienfield to Vickas, he will have an extremely hard time talking to them or enjoying their company whatsoever. He won't hate them or wish them dead - moreso avoid them, and find himself unable to talk to them properly without looking extremely uncomfortable. This is an issue that could be fixed throughout the course of the RP.
>Warhammer-Fearing: Whilst it's quite a bizarre fear, it's true indeed. Vickas will find it very difficult to fight a humanoid enemy wielding a warhammer, as it gives him flashbacks. Whilst seeing one in a store won't make him freak out, the sight of these weapons give Vickas a headache and make him feel sick to the stomach.
>Incapable of Stealth: Self-explanatory. Vickas is unable to make any surprise attacks due to his clanky armour, and stealth just doesn't work if he tries it - even if he's unarmoured.
>Low Agility: Whilst it's obvious, Vickas' running speed isn't anything to brag about - even when he's not wearing armor. Any acts of acrobatics are difficult for him, and most humans will be able to outrun Vickas fairly easily. Jumping around on rooftops and such will usually end in a broken bone for Vickas if he tries it, unarmoured or not.
>Guilty: Vickas is disheartened easily when he's faced with failure, and will blame said failure on himself for a long amount of time. If an ally dies or is seriously injured within his presence, or if he makes a mistake that causes a negative impact on the party, he'll be disheartened and be weaker in battle; his reflexes will become more sluggish.
>Low Self-Preservation: This can't be considered as a massive weakness, but Vickas' nature to stand in the way of blows for others can range from selfless to suicidal. His sense of self-preservation is something that could certainly be worked on as the journey progresses, as there's little left in this world he cares about. Vickas will often take hits for allies even when he's severely wounded, or if a ridiculously powerful attack is aimed at an ally, Vickas will likely intercept it only to meet his demise.

~ ~ ~

Biography: With a father who was a once-prized city guard for the Liverian Kingdom, the loss of an arm and half a face caused Vickas' father to be quickly rejected from his post as a city guard - like throwing aside a broken weapon. With no choice but to wander to a peaceful hamlet to accept his retirement from combat, Vickas' father travelled to foreign lands in shame... though there was one place he'd found on his travels where people seemed to accept him.

Within a hamlet known as Lhentirith - a place consisting of a mix of elves, half-elves, and a handful of various other races within a wooded area that specialised with magic was where Vickas' father met his wife. A beautiful elf with long, ginger hair who used magic for an honest trade of alchemy. Despite Vickas' father's grizzled appearance due to his scars of being a guardsman, she still cared for him and loved him - and so, Vickas was born within the discreet hamlet of Lhentirith.

Born a half-elf due to the races of his parents, Vickas grown up to be the son his father had wanted. Naturally strong, resilient, and with an adept hand for combat even at a young age. Whilst Vickas' father couldn't fully train Vickas due to a loss of a limb, he could still explain and pass down his battle tactics and advice to Vickas - who was naturally talented anyway.

However, amidst many magic users within the hamlet - Vickas grew up somewhat uncomfortably. He could never get the hang of using magic even in the slightest spark, despite how hard his mother tried to teach him some basic tricks. Vickas liked the idea of using magic, but never could get the hang of it. Whilst it was somewhat disheartening, Vickas felt very out-of-place within the hamlet as he grew up, just like his father.

When Vickas became a young adult, he near-instantly became a guardsman for the small hamlet of Lhentirith. Even with his inability to use magic, the sheer strength and unrelenting attitude of the half-elf was something to be admired: and soon, Vickas was suited in armor, given a spear, and swore on his life to protect Lhentirith the best he could. Whilst he did feel out of place, he'd still grown up in the hamlet, and the place was full of many lovely people.

Whilst the hamlet didn't have many guards at all, Vickas still helped to fend off bandit raids, wolf attacks, and the other hardships the so-called 'innocent hamlets' face. As Vickas helped to fight off the hardships, people respected him more and more. Vickas rarely ever left Lhentirith, and eventually began to get together with a fair and beautiful human maiden - little did he know this girl would haunt him in the future.

Time passed - but, one night, around the time Vickas was planning to marry his love with Lhentirith - an attack came that Vickas would never have been able to prepare for. An attack from the crusaders of Rhienfield who had discovered the magical-based hamlet, and stormed the hamlet to wipe the magic-users from the face of the earth. Vickas fought whilst his people were being slaughtered left and right, but he and the few other fellow guardsmen were no match for the unit of zealots. A hammer strike from a crusader knocked Vickas unconscious, and the last thing he would see of his little hamlet was the house of his lover being stormed by swordsmen.

Vickas awoken in the dawn after the night attack to see his hamlet burned to ashes in front of him. Rhienfield only needed to send a small handful of soldiers wipe Lhentirith off the face of the earth - and everything Vickas knew to him was gone in an instant. It was almost disgustingly poetic - how he, one of the few who weren't able to use magic in this city - was one of the few survivors after the attack. Almost everybody Vickas knew was gone. How he survived the attack was likely because Rhienfield soldiers thought him dead.

Vickas left the ashes of his hamlet, to wander like his father once did. Nothing was left for him, and his wandering nowadays is almost mindless. He still wears the armor of his people, though Lhentirith no longer exists. He doesn't know what his goals are, for he knows vengeance is too stupid of a goal when against the huge city of Rhienfield who had crushed the hamlet with little effort - like stomping on an ant on the floor.
 
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Jakers said:
art was pilfered by an unknown curator
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Here you go, laddie. Property of Patrick "TitanBolzen" Reinemann.

Also, to whom it may concern, currently working on improving my sheet from its previous sleep-deprived state. Also trying out some of the formatting used in all of you's sheets. So far I've messed only with the strengths and weaknesses.
 
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Kadaeux said:
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Probably not the same sort of interesting discussions that Samuel would have with people.

"What do you mean peasant that you won't chew my food for me!"

Just kidding, he's not that bad :p
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Are he and Liwei the only folk who (at least used to) live the high nobility life? Interactions could be interesting, since there seems to be a big disparity in the socio-economic circumstances of various sheets here. Assuming many are accepted, of course.
 
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Soulless said:
Are he and Liwei the only folk who (at least used to) live the high nobility life? Interactions could be interesting, since there seems to be a big disparity in the socio-economic circumstances of various sheets here. Assuming many are accepted, of course.
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Yep. Could be fun seeing rich people be snobby and look down on Amaia for being a street rat who grew up still thieving and sneaking about. 8D
 
Jorick said:
Yep. Could be fun seeing rich people be snobby and look down on Amaia for being a street rat who grew up still thieving and sneaking about. 8D
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Speaking of, I am soooo tempted to have it Amaia and Alex lived right down the street from each other, seeing as both had people... In Liveria... Dying of illness : P
 
Jorick said:
Yep. Could be fun seeing rich people be snobby and look down on Amaia for being a street rat who grew up still thieving and sneaking about. 8D
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Well don't expect Liwei to make his condescension too well known. Could be interesting having him being extremely passive aggressive to Amaia though. "Of course I'm not looking down upon you, you're probably my better at scrapping together a living via theft" type stuff.

EDIT: Out of curiosity, does her xenophobia work for people who are clearly from another place i.e. Liwei? Or is it only nonhumans?
 
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Tempest said:
Speaking of, I am soooo tempted to have it Amaia and Alex lived right down the street from each other, seeing as both had people... In Liveria... Dying of illness : P
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Hah, yeah, that could be a thing.
Soulless said:
Well don't expect Liwei to make his condescension too well known. Could be interesting having him being extremely passive aggressive to Amaia though. "Of course I'm not looking down upon you, you're probably my better at scrapping together a living via theft" type stuff.

EDIT: Out of curiosity, does her xenophobia work for people who are clearly from another place i.e. Liwei? Or is it only nonhumans?
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Somewhat, much less than it does for non-human things, not enough of an issue to be listed as its own weakness. It'd just be a matter of distrust and suspicion until the foreign person showed that they weren't the bad sort of foreigner. :P
 
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Hey everyone. I am going to do reviews of sheets for the early birds tomorrow, give early people a chance to fix errors I see so they have better odds of getting accepted when I start approving sheets when the ic goes up. Ic is going up Thursday. :ferret:
 
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Deadline! Here I go!

Also, is it just me or there's a bunch of people from Liveria this time? (Counting my vampire's untyped bio as well)
 
Yeah I bet you didn't see this coming
[inserts something about the Kouri Plushie to seem cool]

Name: Sisera Del Azul, son to the Steward of Renalta

Age: Technically well over a thousand years old, physically is in his early 40's

Sex:Male

Appearance:
arthur_close_up_by_ivelin-d3ctpxb.jpg

[link to the artist's deviantart can be found here]
Sisera is a tall muscular imposing man, at 6'2 he towers over almost anyone and his thick frame, large bones and strong jawline give him an imposing masculine look. His body is completely hairless, with the exception of his eyelashes and a few wisps of hair for eyebrows there is not a strand on him. His torso is covered in grisly burn scars that come in a wide variety of ghastly colors. He has covered up his body with a long wool robe and cap.



Strengths:
knowledge of Magic: Sisera has a impressive knowledge of the diversity of magic that permeates throughout the land. Though he is more learned in elemental magic than anything else, other forms of magic he at least has a understanding and grasp of how to fight against it. He is however limited if not practically useless when it comes to more obscure or outright forbidden magic.


Smoke mage: Once Sisera was an accomplished fire mage in Renalta, however his body can no longer handle the stress of the flame's heat and has resorted to "bastardizing" his former magical talents. Smoke is usually seen as nothing more than a cheap parlor trick but Sisera has managed to make it a potent ability. The mere amount he produces can fill a large room in seconds and entire town blocks and castles if given enough time. Which can either result in several people passing out (if not outright dying) from lack of air or at least providing a quick getaway. Sisera can also manage to make the smoke different colors and even have it form into things (often one can see a "smoke hound" forming if Sisera is casting a large enough spell)

Sisera over the past three years as he taught himself smoke magic has been trying to find a way to give it some form or mass so that it can be used as a weapon. But results so far have been...limited to say the least. He has also heard legendary tales of mages being able to turn themselves into smoke, though Sisera is extremely hesitant to experiment: for he has also heard stories of foolish mages who dissipated and never came back.


Strongman: Sisera is built like an ox. He can carry quite a big load over a period of several miles before getting tired. He is certainly useful as a pack-mule if not anything else though one can imagine what would happen if he threw a punch, or used a weapon.


Swordsmanship: Sisera was once an expert swordsman but can now be described as "rusty but improving" his muscle memory is still intact and his reflexes are still sharp. It's just the footwork he has to get a grip on again. He usually carries a generic broadsword with him that can get the job done.

Weaknesses:
Extremely poor pain tolerance: Sisera's nervous system has been wrecked beyond repair in a few ways. Most notably is his tolerance for pain which despite being built like a bear is fragile to say the least. A simple good punch would have his knees shaking and his ability to fight hindered for at least a few moments before he could get it together. Anything more serious like a sword wound or a minor broken bone would leave him almost incapacitated with barely enough will power to unleash a puff of smoke to get away. If he ever suffered an injury like a major broken bone or a deep would from a weapon he risks dying from shock if not treated quickly.


Mental State: Sisera's mind is... shaky at best and completely broken at worst. Waking up with disturbing nightmares that ruin his sleep, general feelings of nervousness and anxiety along with delusions his mind often conjures up. At times his thought process can be irrational and quite demented and bloodthirsty, often for the sake of revenge or some other feeling buried deep in his subconscious. His mind can best be described as "fragmented" but not so much where he can't operate throughout the day. At least most of the time. This mental state is often seen in his magic personified as a dog made out of smoke that always seems disfigured somehow, this is most likely a part of his more repressed feelings leaking out in a visible form.
He also has memory problems concerning the immediate events during the fall of the Renaltan Kingdom and certain aspects about his early life. He remembers general details and certain specifics but it all seems to be a blur for the most part.


Poor at stealth: Stealth for Sisera is pretty much out of the question. His bulky frame and large hands makes sneaking and thievery practically impossible.

Brave New World: While Sisera has had three years to wander and get his sea legs with his new surroundings, its quite clear that this world is very different from the one he knew and will require some assistance in fully adapting to this alien land

Biography: Sisera was brought up in the family of Stewards that had served the royal family of Renalta for many generations. His father, Benjamin, was the last acting Steward of Renalta and one of the more controversial. Publicly he was a very fat, jovial man with a penchant for one too many mugs of mead. Privately he served as a closed door representative of the Royal family whenever there were private disputes with the nobility. This left the Stewards in poor standing with the majority of the upper class and Sisera himself had a lonely childhood since many children of his social standing were told to avoid the boy. Lonely and wishing to put his energy into something productive, he devoted his young life to the study of magic and martial combat, with his Father providing everything he needed. By the time the boy was 16 he had become a prodigy in fire magic and his years sparring with the Royal guards had made his body thick and muscular.


At the age of 18 his reputation as a great fire mage commanded at least a small modicum of respect from grumbling nobles and his relations with the Royal family couldn't be any better. Such friends he had become with the King and Queen that five days after the Princess Kouri was born he was allowed to visit her cradle. A few weeks later the Queen noted a strange devotion in Sisera as he would come by every few days to inquire about the health of the baby. His loyalty to the young Princess wasn't truly apparent until a year later, when the Princess was threatened by a particularly bad fever. The members of the court said they heard rumors that Sisera had headed to the outskirts of the capital to build a makeshift shrine to the Gods where he prayed for the Girl's survival. After three days of praying the girl, whether by coincidence or not, slowly became healthy again. Sisera's alarmed father went out to fetch his son and was shocked at the malnourished state the young man was in and soon caught a fever himself.


When Princess Kouri became older, Sisera was entrusted with taking her for walks around the safety of the castle and became an unofficial caretaker for the young girl. As the years went by Sisera began to teach her the basics of magic and hoped that she would take after him and learn fire magic. While he was personally disapointed at her choice of Ice, he encouraged her learning and provided what little help he could with all his personal books and knowledge on the subject. When the Princess reached the age of 15, there was nothing he could teach her that she couldn't simply teach herself. He began to isolate himself and gained a reputation among the upper class as an eccentric and recluse. Sisera learning the trade of his Father did little to help his reputation and he began to show up to court as his Father's representative due to the latter's old age. He saw little of Kouri during those years and usually only addressed her with a respectful nod and bow and while he maintained friendly relations with the King and Queen, he seemed more distant and stoic than before. They wondered what kind of Steward he would be when his Father passed on.


That time would never come for everything was shattered in Typhon's rage when Kouri rejected his advances. When it became apparent that Heaven would follow in Typhon's wrath he quickly took control and led the defense of the city. Utilizing the full power of his magical talents he gathered up the city's strongest mages and quickly orchestrated a magical ritual; engulfing the entire capital city in a protective flame, giving Kouri and her guard enough time to escape the armies of Heaven. Shortly afterwards, the barrier gave out and Sisera, his energy spent, retreated into the crumbling court-room where he prepared to give one final charge and die.


But his opponent was Typhon himself and in his anger and cruelty Typhon did not kill him but instead decided eternal torment as punishment. He casted Sisera down into the deepest, darkest cave of the land and encircled it in a seal of fire. Sisera would never age, he was destined by Heaven to burn and writhe in endless flames until the end of time.

Do you see it? Courage morph into hate
crawling like a thousand little spiders

And so for a thousand years, he screamed. His black hair burned into oblivion. His psyche broken, then broken again into tinier, smaller fragments. Until it seemed nothing remained.

Eating away at your weak fragile mind
replacing it with something transcendent

Than something remarkable happened. Almost a thousand years later, the seal began to weaken, then it finally broke and Sisera was freed. Sisera does not remember these first few weeks of darkness in these Caves. Only that he heard sounds from the horrors of the earth and feasted on unnatural things for sustenance. When he emerged from the caves in the wilderness, he was naked and his torso and legs maligned with horrible burn scars. His body had changed considerably; he could no longer tolerate the strain of pain, for he learned quickly that a simply punch felt like bones rattling around his body. And his fire magic... was gone. Every time he tried to cast a simple spell pain would come shooting up through his arm and the spell would blow up in his face. In his desperation to become a mage again he forced himself to learn smoke magic a "perversion" of fire magic seen as nothing more than a cheap trick by street performers but Sisera made it his own and was determined to turn it into something far more than what it was perceived as.

Three years ago he was freed from Typhon's seal and has wandered the land aimlessly with no goal in his life. He continues to live almost as a beggar, doing odd jobs in each town he enters in part due to his still impressive physical frame.

A thousand tiny minds, all knowing fear
 
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