Unfinished and/or Unused Character Sheets w/Code Testing. DO NOT POST.

Discussion in 'THE TEST CHAMBERS' started by firejay1, Oct 11, 2014.

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  1. THIS THREAD is for me to put all my characters that I'm still playing with and coding. Also where I store bits of code from other ppl's stuff that I study to glean their secrets. Once I am completely satisfied, I soft-delete the posts to keep this thread relatively clean ish.

    Original message from Charp thread: Where would it be held? And how would they not be able to tell who is playing whom?
     
    #1 firejay1, Oct 11, 2014
    Last edited: Feb 19, 2017
  2. “There is no one in the world that lives without sin,”
    {Banner here}
    Name
    Velia D’Amore
    Sofia
    Fiametta
    Lucio
    Melania

    Etymology
    Velia – Means concealed; Sofia – Means wisdom; Fiametta – Means little fire; Lucio – Means light; Melania – Means black or dark.
    D’Amore – Means of love.

    Age
    14

    Birthday
    March 20th, 2009

    Gender
    Female
    Female
    Female
    Male
    Female

    House and Year
    Ravenclaw, 4th year

    Ethnicity
    Italian

    Species
    Witch/Wizard

    Blood Status
    Muggle-born

    Personality
    Velia
    “The Original”
    Easily Frightened
    Imaginative
    Kind
    Self-Absorbed/Introspective
    Gullible/Persuadable
    Compulsively Dishonest
    ------
    Sofia
    “The Student”
    Studious
    Stern
    Gentle
    Graceful
    Thoughtful
    ------
    Fiametta
    “The Rebel”
    Boisterous
    Fearless
    Rebellious
    Easily Angered
    Reckless
    Just
    ------
    Lucio
    “The Player”
    Confident
    Suave/Flirtatious
    Manipulative
    Dramatic
    Very Smart
    ------
    Melania
    “The Protector”
    Violent
    Nearly Speechless
    Single-Minded
    Suspicious
    ------
    Pertinent Personality Information

    Biography
    Living With It
    Road(s) Taken
    Witch Trials
    Breaking Through or Breaking Down

    Relationships
    Selena D’Amore | Mother
    Victor D’Amore | Father
    The D’Amores and Riccis | Extended Family

    Patronus
    Gerbil
    Crane
    Quetzal
    Flamingo
    Black Mamba

    Boggart
    A Court of Law
    Blood
    A Cage
    Being Upside-Down
    A Gun

    Pet
    None

    Wand
    Wood | Hawthorn
    Core | Cenocroca/Leucotta Horn
    Length
    8 in
    Flexibility
    Swishy

    Other

    Appearance

    (Describe how your character looks. Make it match the banner. Extra pictures are optional, and need to match the description.)

    Shadow - Chromatics.​
     
    #2 firejay1, May 5, 2016
    Last edited: May 5, 2016
  3. Name
    Ranien

    Age
    22

    Gender
    Male

    Hometown
    Solona, Calidar

    Personality
    Quiet/Shy
    Cheerful/Optimistic
    Kind
    Obedient/Takes Directions Well

    History/Bio


    Strengths

    Weaknesses:

    Abilities/Skills:

    Relationships:​
     
    #3 firejay1, May 5, 2016
    Last edited: May 24, 2016
  4. Name
    Nareen

    Age
    22

    Gender
    Male

    Hometown
    Solona, Calidar

    Personality
    Violent
    Cold

    History/Bio


    Strengths

    Weaknesses:

    Abilities/Skills:

    Relationships:​
     
  5. Name
    Riehn

    Age
    22

    Gender
    Male

    Hometown
    Solona, Calidar

    Personality
    Just
    Unrealistic

    History/Bio


    Strengths

    Weaknesses:

    Abilities/Skills:

    Relationships:​
     
  6. Name
    Nriean

    Age
    22

    Gender
    Male

    Hometown
    Solona, Calidar

    Personality
    Sarcastic
    Quiet
    Mischeivous

    History/Bio


    Strengths

    Weaknesses:

    Abilities/Skills:

    Relationships:​
     
  7. Name
    Nanan

    Age
    22

    Gender
    Male

    Hometown
    Solona, Calidar

    Personality
    Sycophantic
    Sick
    Weedy

    History/Bio


    Strengths

    Weaknesses:

    Abilities/Skills:

    Relationships:​
     
  8. [​IMG]

    GENERAL INFORMATION

    "The sum of a person's parts would surely create an infinitely complex number."

    Name
    Zechariah Ashkew

    Nickname
    Ash

    (Secret) Monikers
    The Cheshire Cat
    The Blind Hunter


    Age
    17

    Gender
    Male

    Race
    Human Mage

    Guild
    Hiraeth Seis

    Occupation
    Mage

    Tier
    C (White Rank)

    Birthday
    April 9th

    Gemstone
    Labradorite

    [​IMG]
    This iridescent blue stone with its marble-like quality is particularly notable for the series of black cracks that appear to mar its surface, even when cut to be a smooth, round stone. Although it is generally reputed to be a stone of spiritual magic and healing, it is this stone's broken, almost surreal visual that suits Zechariah the most, particularly as it matches his now useless eyes.


    Zodiac Sign
    Aries

    [​IMG]
    Many things are said about Aries. That they are stubborn, energetic leaders. Courageous, optimistic, honest, but also aggressive and impulsive. Very little of this appears to apply to Zechariah upon first glance, as he lacks obstinacy, enthusiasm, and any apparent interest in taking a leadership role, but he a closer look would reveal more similarities with this type than one might think.


    BIOGRAPHY

    「私にとって「記憶」というものを捨てた方がいいんだ。」

    Long story short, Zechariah was born to a good, normal family in an isolated village hidden deep inside the mountains. When he was five, most of his village was burned down, and in the process he lost his sight and badly burned his left hand and forearm. He ran into the forest and wandered there for some time before finding his Exceed, Serinia. The two of them ended up stumbling upon the Yakuma clan, where he was abused in the pursuit of the perfection of his magic. Eventually, he left the village, went on the run with Serinia, and came out into more civilized areas, eventually choosing to join Hiraeth Seis.

    Do you really want to see?

    DETAILED BIOGRAPHY

    Probably should give a trigger warning here for some death, abuse, and fire-damage.


    「俺はもう命全部の涙は流し来ちゃったから。」

    Good Beginnings Do Not Always Lead to Good Ends
    Zechariah was born to a pair of Ashkews whose names and faces he does not remember. His hometown was a small, unassuming village deep in the mountains behind the Waas forest, though it is now nothing but dilapidated, scorched buildings overrun with wildlife. His family and village were poor and isolated, but still happy, friendly, and kind, and he was raised with love for the first five years of his life, a robust mountain child with a love for his parents, a natural talent for tracking, and a tough, but cheerful disposition. He grew up on whatever hardy animals the men could hunt, and whatever tough plants the women could find or grow in the rocky earth and chilly weather. He had never heard of magic or thought about the outside world, content and confident, as he was, in his own little quiet world.

    But it seemed, the universe had other plans.

    When Zechariah was five, a man arrived in their little town. A stranger. They did not get strangers, very often, and the mysterious man was met with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. He was cautiously welcomed in by an older couple without children, and fed and told reluctantly that he could stay for the night. At dinnertime, they all gathered together to have their meal as a community, and he delighted the children by telling them stories of his adventures. The children, Zechariah included, listened eagerly to him talk of things they'd never even heard of, and did not notice that it made the adults uncomfortable to hear him expounding on such flights of fancy to their impressionable kids.

    That night, Zechariah awoke to shouts. He ran to the doorway to see what was happening, and saw the elderly couple fighting with the stranger who had come to the village, shouting and pushing him out of their home. He didn't understand. What was going on? "Zechariah, come away from the door." His mother said from behind him, pulling him from the doorway. Her voice was worried, so he complied, but his bright blue eyes strained to watch the proceedings curiously as he was pulled away. The man shouted something, and a burst of light lit up the square, temporarily stunning the child. The next thing he knew, the house was burning. No. The whole village was burning. Burning in bright purple flames that seemed to be laughing. Was that a face? How could it be laughing? Creaks and crackles and pops mingled with screams of fear and pain and loss and anger. All of it, all of it. Too much noise. And he was still blinking spots out of his eyes. He could hear his mother yelling, but it was a far-off kind of sound. Where was she? WHERE WAS SHE?

    Reality came flooding back to the small boy in a flash, and he started crying, frightened by the flames, but not knowing what to do. What had been an open doorway moments before was now wreathed in death. His mother was yelling for him and his father, having escaped moments before, not realizing she'd lost her grip on him. He was crying and crying, and suddenly his mother had his right hand in a death grip, pulling him out. But the doorway. It was so bright and scary. "GO!" His mother roared at him in a voice he'd never heard from her before. They almost made it out. Almost. In a moment that remains very fuzzy for him, a burning beam in their small wooden house fell, nearly crushing him. Although the bulk of his body escaped too much damage because he was so small a target, his arm got trapped under the beam. He screamed in pain. In a burst of inhuman strength, his mother ripped him out from under the burning piece of wood. The splinters that tore into the flesh of his fingers went ignored as they were instantly "cauterized" by the fire itself. Twisting around, Marianna Ashkew flung her son out of the doorway before a chunk of the ceiling collapsed on top of her.

    Vision blurred with tears and still blubbering a little from the pain, Zechariah turned this way and that, wondering where his mother had gone. His house, still being consumed by that cackling purple fire revealed a little of her outstretched arms, though her face was already burning and unrecognizable. Suddenly, all tears stopped. In shock, Zechariah took a stumbling step closer. The fire was so hot, and something was wrong with the smoke. Something was weird around it. It felt like it was choking him, it stung his eyes, but he could not blink, could not look away. He could only stare in horror. "M-mom. Mooom!!" Someone grabbed him, tearing him away, but he fought them. They were saying something, but it didn't matter what it was. He barely registered it. Shoving the adult off, he rushed closer to the fire, only to have a lick of it fling itself gleefully right at his face, seeming to sear it a little. He fell back, closing his stinging eyes hard for a moment, and the "whoever-it-was" took the moment to grab him and begin running. He opened his eyes wide, looking over the man's shoulder, the image of his destroyed home didn't look right. His eyes watered, having stayed open too long, and he thought he blinked, but he didn't feel his lids move. He must have blinked. The image was darkening, fading. No. No. Why? "MOM!" He yelled one more time.

    The person carrying him stopped abruptly and more yelling ensued. Too. Many. Sounds. He struggled to get back to his house before it got too dark and he wouldn't be able to find his way back. His parents had always told him to come home before it got too dark, because he got lost easily. Angry words, spitting flames. He was jostled in his father's arms, and he yanked himself free, falling to the ground and running, running towards where he'd thought he'd last seen his home, but it was all just vaguely purple now. Where was anything? It was getting dark. All dark now. As his vision turned black, Zechariah ran unknowingly into the neighboring forest. Where was he going? Was this the right way? No? This way? He ran, then stopped. There was a sound from over there. That must be the right way. No. But then, did he see a light from over there? It must be that way.

    Several hours in, Zechariah understood that he was well and truly lost, and had no idea how much longer it would be until the sun rose again. He sat down and cried until sleep finally took him. When he awoke, the world was warm, and the birds were chirping. The world was awake, but he could not seem to open his eyes. Was he opening them? Everything was still dark as night. He must have slept through to the next night, but what was this warmth? Fire? FIRE. Panicking, the boy ran as fast as he could to get away from the fire, but then stopped. That wasn't right. Fire was not so silent, nor so gentle. Fire was not dark any more than the sun. Now that he was a little calmer, he realized it should not have been last night, either. His fingers reached out until he felt warmth touch them again, and this time he moved slowly closer to it until his face, also was engulfed in the familiar, comforting warmth. He turned his face up towards the sun and opened his eyes as wide as he could, ignoring the pain it still caused him to do so. He blinked hard and tried again. Nothing.

    He understood. He would never look upon the sun again.

    If a Random Stranger Tries to Adopt You, Always Politely Say No
    The next few weeks were hard. He had lost almost everything. Unable to find his way back home, Zechariah survived warily on vegetables. His ears strained to hear every little crackle of a branch, his fingers to feel the difference in everything he touched, his nose to smell the poison from the food. Had birds always sounded like that? Had this kind of tree always felt like that? Had this berry always tasted like this? Luck smiled on him for those few brief weeks, as he managed to escape death one day after another, forcing himself to memorize what each sound, smell, taste, touch meant, sometimes even muttering mnemonic devices to himself to help him along. Just because he'd lost his sight and the use of his left arm didn't mean all of his senses had become magically enhanced. Always, always, he kept his eyes wide open in the hopes that someday he would find light and color again. His left arm, too, caused him much trouble. He would try to move his fingers without thinking about it, only to face the searing pain all over again. As time went by, it quieted to a constant, quiet throb, but the pain never seemed to completely leave. Unable to fully give up his old lifestyle, he learned to climb with just his one arm, so that he could sit atop large tree branches and rest for a moment. Working around these losses helped him forget, during the day, how he had lost them in the first place, and he gave up finding his home again, but when the air cooled again and all the animals went to sleep and so therefore must he also, the quiet allowed everything to come back again. Most of his nights were miserable ones.

    One day, as he was wandering about, a high, childish female voice informed him. "There's a poo there."

    Startled, Zechariah whipped his head around, instinctively looking for the source of the sound, though he wouldn't have been able to see it if his eyes were pointing straight it. He hadn't said anything to anyone for weeks, so it was with a little hesitation that he asked, "W-who are you?"

    "Over here." Carefully, he turned to face the sound, which was oddly slightly upwards. A very tall person, perhaps? But the voice sounded like a very young girl. "Can't you see me?" The voice asked again. He shook his head. He heard an odd sound he'd never heard before, a bit like fluttering, or flapping? A sort of sparkly noise accompanied it, and then he felt a light warmth and the voice came from right in front of his face. "How about now?"

    He yelped, and stumbled backwards. "W-what are you?" He asked, shaking.

    There was a brief silence, and then she said, "I'm a cat! A flying cat. At least, that's what Granny Whinny calls me. And I saw you. You stepped in the poo."

    Zechariah blinked in her general direction. "A... flying cat?" Another silence he did not know was her nodding.

    "Yep. I'm a flying cat. You can't see very well, can you?" She asked, childishly, and suddenly he felt something soft and warm land on his hand.

    He gave another jump of surprise, but managed to reach his right hand up in time to stop the poor thing from falling off. He instinctively brought his left hand up as well, but when it clumsily touched the Exceed, he gave a hiss of pain and withdrew it. Carefully holding her with just his left hand, he brought her down to his face level. "I can't see at all." Cradling her in the crook of his left arm, he patted her gingerly with his right hand. From what it felt like, the creature did appear to be telling the truth. About the cat part, anyways. He couldn't feel anything in the way of wings. "But cats can't fly. Or talk." He said, quietly. They'd had a couple in his village.

    "I can." She said, springing from his arm and into the air. It hurt his arm, but she didn't seem to notice.

    He nodded, obediently. "I'm Zechariah, who are you? Is your granny close by?" PEOPLE. Maybe there were people nearby! He didn't remember anyone named "Whinny," but it could still be someone from his village, maybe! He tried to convince himself that he had known someone named Whinny.

    "I'm Serinia." There was a flutter as she gave a mid-air curtsy. "And Granny Whinny is gone, so it's just me, now. And you! You're not like Granny Whinny, though, you're smaller. And your arm looks funny." His hope was instantly crushed. This cat had never seen another person before, clearly. Nor did it appear this "granny" of hers had lived with anyone else. Maybe she had been a flying cat, too, now that he thought about it. He drooped a little, and made as if to walk away, but Serinia just continued to follow him, chattering a little.

    Serinia did not leave him alone from then on. She continued following him, and Zechariah found himself enjoying her company. It was nice to talk to someone else, and she helped him avoid doing thing like running into trees, falling off cliffs, or slipping on mud. It was not uncommon for her to follow him up a tree and just sit on his lap, the two of them simply enjoying their time together, and it became habitual for her to curl up on top of his chest when they slept. He told her about the village, and the strange man, about his mother and his arm, and she told him a couple stories of her few days with the woman known as "Granny Whinny" who had passed away not long after she had hatched. Little by little, he felt her healing him a little, giving him hope of finding his family again. Finally, one day, it seemed like his wish had come true. She excitedly came back and told him she'd seen a village. It was next to a large waterfall, which his had not been, but it was people.

    He arrived at the mysterious village excited. This village, however, was even more unwelcoming to visitors than his had been. He had unknowingly stumbled upon the remnants of an ancient people. The Yakuma clan. When he walked into the clearing where they were set up, the nearest person jumped and reached for a weapon, pulling out a knife and demanding to know his identity. He looked over at her without quite meeting her eyes. He was not afraid of her, because she had pulled the knife from where it had been secured in her clothes, and he did not recognize the sound. It took little for her to realize he could not actually see her at all. Bringing the child in, she told him to wait inside her house and went to tell the elders of the clan. They were not happy, and held a council to discuss what to do with this unknown boy. Some thought it would be best to send him back into the forest. He had seen and understood nothing, surely. Others wanted to put him to death. Just because he couldn't see anything, didn't mean he wouldn't end up telling anyone else what he had found. Finally, one elder, Geilig Yakuma, declared that he would teach the boy in their ways, in the one magic that could only be taught to blind children, Contact. He would be taught as one of them. Live as one of them. Die as one of them. And their secret would never get out.

    Zechariah knew nothing of this discussion, only that he had been told to wait in the strange woman's home for quite a long while. He ate whatever she gave him and fell asleep, hugging Serinia happily. The next day, Serinia was pulled from his arms. The man who came to pick him up spoke in a rough voice. "Zechariah Ashkew, is it? You are not Zechariah anymore. Forget that name. You are Ash. You were born a weak-willed child of fire. We will change that. I will teach you magic, the magic of our people so that you can be reborn as one of us." It was an odd surprise, but not an unpleasant one. He was excited to hear that such a thing existed, and that this village was being kind enough to teach it to him, so that he could be stronger, overcome the lack of his sight.

    That optimism was ruthlessly crushed over the next year or so. Serinia, who had escaped when they had tried to kill her, watched over Ash fearfully from the shadows of the forest. Before teaching him any magic at all, Geilig taught him the Yakuma language, which was necessary for casting Yakuma magic, and put him through a horrific physical training. His natural clumsiness got him into immense trouble, and every time he made a mistake he was punished severely. He was forced to run through the village and forest at top speed for what felt like miles, to bathe in the freezing cold waters of the waterfall every day, to try and grab things with his mangled arm, to stay in a squatting position for hours. If he could not complete these things he was beat by Geilig who told him over and over again that he was worth nothing if he did not get stronger. He cried a lot at first, but eventually grew used to it. He had thought that Serinia had abandoned him, and found no comfort in the other children, who were treated similarly each in their own forms of the eighteen.

    "On the Run" Very Rarely Entails Any Actual Running
    A little over a year after he had joined, Geilig decided that it was time for "Ash" to take a tougher path. He had thus far been unsuccessful at actually casting the magic, though he had suffered much for it, and had picked up the language faster than expected. He took him to the edge of the forest and told him to go in there and hunt. His progress would be monitored, but he would not be protected or saved. The plan was for a guide to take him to a specific area of the forest where the most dangerous animals lived, and then force him to survive and find his way back on his own. Not having mastered his magic at all, he was terrified to try such a thing, and after he was dropped off, he didn't move for a bit, trying hard to get something, anything to work. Then, he heard a scream. Serinia had followed him into the forest and, thinking that he was alone at last, had tried to approach him, only to be caught by his monitor. "HELP!" She screamed, and this time, Ash recognized her voice. It was Serinia. She was in danger. It was the push he had needed.

    A rune appeared under his feet and the language of the Yakuma peoples that he had been forced to learn slipped from his tongue naturally, an expression of poison-like anger. Before he really understood what he himself had done, a keening shriek of sound flashed through the forest in a burst of the amorphous ball of sound that epitomized yakuma magic, stunning both Serinia and the man who had caught her. Another set of words, and for a brief second, he could see the whole of the forest clearly, though without color. He raced forward and freed Serinia of the man. Geilig's lackey was a user of Command, the powerful ability to force one to do what you say, even against their will. Although he was still in his teens, and not very strong, he recovered tolerably from the burst of sound and commanded Ash to "Come here." Ash complied without even trying to fight it, but on his way, he grabbed a rock and clobbered the man in the leg. When he hopped one leg in surprise and fell down to Ash's level, the kid clobbered him hard on the head, certainly enough to knock him out and perhaps enough to leave permanent damage. Zechariah had had enough. He turned and walked away, fully aware that the Yakuma clan would probably hunt him down after this, but not caring.

    Crying and clinging to him, Serinia apologized profusely, also slightly still frightened, and explained to him how the Yakuma clan had tried to kill her, and how she had escaped. How sorry she was. He said nothing for a while, just a small boy with his small cat, walking through the forest. Tearfully, she asked him, "Are you crying?" And she turned to look.

    He was not crying, nor did he look at her. He put his good hand on her soft head and said in a voice that felt too calm and cheerful to be real, "No. I'm never going to cry, again. I've already cried all my life's worth of tears. Besides, I have you. What do I have to be sad about?" And he smiled calmly. True to his word, he never cried again. The two of them wandered the forest and mountains for a long time, hiding from the Yakuma clan, muddling along on their own. He learned how to perform a few more spells, and learned how to hunt with his magic. It was a dangerous and uncertain way to live, but no matter what happened, Zechariah never wavered.

    Home is Not Where Your Heart is, but Where Your Feet Always Take You Back To
    Eventually, the two of them found themselves walking out of the mountains and finding themselves in a more civilized area. They met travelers at the foot of Mt. Hakobe and the then-eight-year-old was at first extremely wary of them, but they proved to be harmless people and convinced him and Serinia to go into Oshibana with them. For the first time, he was introduced to the concept of money, and people, civilization. Without thinking about it, he selfishly stole the money the travelers had on them and made off with it, making his way through the towns, where he started hearing stories of "guilds" where mages gathered together. He was a mage, too. He must be. It was clear not everyone could use magic. Not even most people. There were even two close by, Red Dawn and Hiraeth Seis, or something. He listened closely to the gossip of others, and discovered the differences between Dark Guilds and normal ones, the pillars, various forms of magic. He saw that wizards were thought of as oddities, anomalies, and so learned to hide that part of himself. He was curious. He wanted to see a guild, see if there were others like him out there, and what they did, how they lived. On a whim, he decided to go to Hiraeth Seis, see what it was like. He walked into the guild's beautiful green halls, unawed by what he could not see, and after a few weeks there, decided it was as good a place as any.

    Since joining, he has taken on quite a few random wizard jobs, finding his niche in the "retrieval" area. Most people are disappointed, at first, to find him blind, but he has never failed at one of these jobs, and has earned a quiet reputation as a hunter of men. The Blind Hunter. While it is not a well-known title among regular people, members of on either side of the law have quite a few of them heard of him. His unseeing grin as he returns the lost object, or entraps the fugitive, have also given him the name, the Cheshire Cat. There are stories that he's not a person at all, but a ghost, that he cannot actually use magic, or that he has followers who back him up and make his conquests possible. Really, how ridiculous. When he introduces himself, he has always been very straightforward. "My name is Zechariah, but you can call me Ash. I'm a mage of Hiraeth Seis, and I can find anything or anyone you want. For the right price."


    MENTAL CHARACTERISTICS

    "T-tell your boyfriend, if he says he got beef, that I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him."

    Personality
    Chill, but Blunt
    Ash is not a "panic and run for the hills" type of kid. After making his resolution to never cry again, he also decided for himself, that no matter what he was feeling, he would always smile. Even when angry, sad, scared, or ashamed, look it in the face and smile, because it does no one any good to rage against the world, you least of all. He possesses a sort of calm disregard for the people and events around him, as if none of it really matters. People who like him or don't like him, people who like each other or don't like each other, dangerous situations that frighten others, or careless words that make others angry, rarely does he let any of those considerations penetrate his heart, and even when they do it is even rarer that he lets them penetrate his actions. Instead, he exudes a naturally cheerful calm almost in every situation, without fail. It is perhaps because of this lack of concern that he also never attempts to lie or flatter. Although not exactly a chatterer, when he speaks, his words are typically very straightforward (if occasionally sarcastic). As valued a virtue as honesty is, he can sometimes go a little too far with this, in the eyes of other people, often bordering on plain rude or aggressive.

    Lone Wolf
    Zechariah is not directly secretive or silent. If you ask him about his past or his arm it takes very little from him to explain that he was orphaned in a fire, though he would never mention the Yakuma clan. That said, he keeps himself to himself. He doesn't go offering information people do not ask for, or flaunting anything he may or may not be able to do. He does not try to make friends, and makes it clear to those who get in his face that he's not particularly interested in it, either, though he doesn't mind if someone chooses to think well of him of their own free will. That's their concern, not his. Nor does he have many common interests he can use to spark friendships. He is not very frivolous and takes consistent enjoyment in very few activities besides climbing and his jobs. He does not have a "pack mentality," rarely gets affected by mobs, and does not think of his guild members as his close buddies. Even if he likes you, your enemies are not his enemies, and he will not invest a great deal of energy to spend a lot of time with you. This is not to say that he has no loyalties towards others or even his guild. He will never betray those that he likes or believes in, but he does not let other people's lives control or intertwine with his own. You do what you want, he'll do what he wants. This more importantly extends to his profession. He works ALONE (so far, anyways, Serinia has been pushing him more and more to go with others on jobs). This is partially because he does not want his magic to be discovered by the others in the guild, but partially because he dislikes dealing with the unpredictability of other mages on the job.

    Logical and Precise, but Impulsive; Full of Thought and Observant, but Absent-Minded
    The way Ash thinks has an odd sort of self-contradictory cadence to it, contrasting a lack of thought with an excess of it. Although never one to go for the stupid, reckless, "why don't I get myself killed?" options, he can, at times, make a snap decision to do things without any real rhyme or reason. He might analyze a situation 20 ways in a matter of seconds, and then decide that none of it really matters and just pick whichever option pops into his head first. In a rather similar fashion, he is constantly thinking, taking various things into consideration and mulling over almost everyone, everything, and every situation he comes into contact with, but at the same time shows an almost absent-minded disposition in that he will quickly forget or discard things that he had just heard. He remembers sensory information acutely, and yet can be incredibly forgetful when it comes to names or personal information. The simplest way to describe the entire phenomenon, I suppose, would be to say that what's in his head does not always fully translate to what's going on, or how he responds, in the outside world.

    Obstinate, Determined, Stalwart, Resolute
    Anyone who knows him would say he is a hard worker, and perhaps this is true. It would be incorrect to say that Ash is stubborn in the traditional sense. As a general rule, he doesn't care enough about most things to fight with other people about it, and he's more likely to throw an argument than keep one going, even if he's right. The things he gets stubborn about, though, he gets very very stubborn about. His rule of not working with others, for instance, he has kept fairly faithfully for all but the last year or so. His loyalty towards his guild and the yakuma clan is also strong enough that he has kept his secret for a little short of a decade, and he would do the same for Hiraeth Seis. His resolution to continue smiling, and to live as he likes with no particular restraints, these things that he holds dear, he holds on to with an iron grip, and as a person he is slow to change. It is also this kind of hard-headedness that has given him all of his greatest gifts. His acute hearing and sensitive sense of touch and smell are not just by-products of his blindness, but products of careful training and memorization, an obsessive need to perfect his other senses in the absence of the visual one. The way he grit his teeth and took every moment of abuse in the yakuma clan, and even the way he turned away from them and never looked back was due to his resolution, even the fact that he can climb trees one-handed without his sight is thanks to this. Every physical and magical gift he has was born in that "death-grip" core of his, and some of his mental ones as well. Without his obstinacy, Ash would have, and in his estimation be, nothing.

    Creepily Optimistic (or is it pessimistic?)
    Ash tends to have a kind of "look on the bright side" mentality, that may actually be called pessimism, if you really think about it. It's a tendency to say, "well hey, sure we're trapped in a cave with a giant talking monkey who wants to eat us and has plus five speed, but at least we're not hungry to boot. And you know what, think about it, we could be trapped with a giant talking LION instead. It's fine, it's fine." This goes beyond his decision to keep smiling, because it is not a decision at all but a disposition he's had for quite some time, perhaps a twisted sense of the natural optimism he was born with. It could be interpreted as a "we're not dead yet, so there's still hope" but it could also be interpreted as a "even if we're starving and miserable and all hope is lost, it could still be worse!" *gringrin. No one but him really knows which one it actually is, in his head. In the end, it's kind of just all "fine" even when it's really not, and _then_ he tops it with his signature never-ending smile. Most people he shows this side of himself to find this sort of creepy, especially with how graphically and flamboyantly he states the alternatives. He may have lost his physical vision, but he certainly has not lost his internal vision and can expound in length on all of the horrible things that COULD be happening, all with the kind of delighted sparkle in his voice that indicates he may actually somewhat be hoping for one of these awful things to come true. Serinia herself finds this occasionally disturbing, though for the most part she's gotten used to it at this point. Some part of her thinks that he may have started doing this more openly precisely because she used to be so freaked out by it, and she always feels bad when she notices it affecting someone else.

    Ruthless and Sadistic (but just a little bit)
    An imminently selfish creature, Zechariah sees no problem with doing a number of things others would consider perhaps... morally ambiguous. If you tell him, "You'll never take me alive!" Without skipping a beat, he'd respond with a smile and a, "Then I'll gladly take you dead!" Step in his way, and he will step on you, and do so without thought or hesitation. He might even stomp a little harder than usual just because you're there. The rather curious thing about this is that it half seems to come out of malice, and half doesn't seem to. He does a bit seem to enjoy himself when doing something kind of... heinous, like destroying buildings or trapping fugitives in sound cages. At times, he will even trap them and let them go before trapping them again, if they seem weak enough, like a cat with a mouse. He does typically smile while doing such things, but as that is his default it is difficult to say for certain it's because he enjoys inflicting pain on other people. He certainly doesn't bother to go very far out of his way to torture people. Quite the opposite, actually, he appears to most like the kind of people who are quiet and soft-hearted, and most often goes out of his way for random things that catch his interest or to randomly buy a child an ice cream or get a cute bow for Serinia. To the casual observer this may seem like a strange thing, but it's pretty simple. The long and short of it would be: he does whatever pleases him. While he does occasionally find it amusing to cruelly mess with people, it brings him as much amusement to hear Serinia squeal in excitement, or imagine the looks on the parents faces when he gives a random child an ice cream. He likes soft-hearted people because they are naturally considerate and make him feel more comfortable, as long as they are not loud, but also does not mind crushing people mostly because if he does not have any particular opinion of them, he does not care about them at all. They become a non-entity in his head, and treating them as bugs or toys therefore becomes not so horrible a thing.
    « »
    Strengths
    Immense Willpower
    Exceptional Hearing
    Good Reflexes
    High Stamina
    Quick Learner
    Fast Runner
    Immune to Visual Illusion Magics or Magics Requiring Eye Contact
    Weaknesses
    Blind
    Cannot use left hand
    Clumsy
    Slicy Stabby Thingies
    Finding Places (Houkou-onchi)
    Purely Physical Fights
    Likes
    Cool, Quiet Things
    Chocolate
    Solid Script
    Rain (but not storms)
    Plant Life
    High Places
    Dislikes
    Extremely Noisy Places
    HEAT (He's a melter)
    Statues (There's something just really weird about them)
    Short Things (Short doorways, short buildings, short steps. They are really easy to trip over or smack into)
    Stairs
    Talents
    Making everything taste horrible
    Tracking Things Down (this apparently extends to people, animals, and vegetables, but not locations themselves)
    Climbing (yes, one-handed)
    Reading Tones
    Fears
    FIRE
    Inabilities
    Reading
    Cooking
    Swimming
    Reading Body Language


    RELATIONSHIPS

    「友達がない人間は敵を作る勇気があるかな。」

    PM me if interested

    Serinia - Reader
    [​IMG]
    When Serinia met Zechariah, she was a newly hatched Exceed whose family had disappeared before she hatched (unbeknownst to her, her parents had been eaten in the forest). Her most important function, currently, is to read for him, but in truth she is also his beloved companion. She seems like a bit of a quiet, timid soul at first, quick to get depressed and deeply empathetic towards others, but she largely wears the pants in their relationship (figuratively speaking), because she cares deeply about him and believes she knows what's best for him. That, plus Zechariah likes to give her her way. Part of her protective instinct towards him is that she's known him for most of her life, but there is also the underlying indefinite insecurity that it is her fault that Zechariah went through what he did with the Yakuma. It is an insecurity that Zechariah understands, but knows he cannot assuage with words. He is kind to her in a way he is not with others.

    The Ashkews - Lost Memories
    Although Zechariah was old enough to remember his true parents before they died, he remembers largely only snippets and moments. His quiet, happy memories of those two people, and as a matter of fact, all of the people in his village, have been overwhelmed by the more vivid and terrible memories of his time in the Yakuma clan and everything thereafter. Nowadays, he never thinks of them, as the concept of parents has become obsolete for him.

    The Yakuma Clan - Mildly Disgusting Parental Figure
    To an extent, Zechariah considers the yakuma clan his "origin." His "family." In his head, they are the ones who taught him magic and made him who he is today. At the same time, some might think he's a sadist, but he is not a fool. He does not think that the abuse he received in the pursuit of magic was at all normal, and he finds their practices absolutely loathsome. On top of which, he thinks of them as a small-minded people, clinging on to their old glory and power, unaware of how the world works now. Ensconced in their little bubble of isolation, he is certain they will one day self-destruct. Only this time, for real, not just in the eyes of the rest of the world. Still, no matter how much you dislike them, family is family, and he has loyally kept the secret of their village to himself.

    Hiraeth Seis - Mother Guild (?)
    Zechariah is not what one would consider a fanatic and loyal member of the guild, but that does not change the fact that the guild is now his home. It is the place you come flying back to when you have become tired of your travels and your work. While, even after all this time, he may not have very close relationships with his guild members, he thinks of the place as "where he belongs" and feels most comfortable within its halls.

    Other Guilds - Unrelated Uninteresting Organizations
    Zechariah knows that Hiraeth Seis has rivalries with a number of other guilds, but honestly...? He doesn't care. The guild's feuds are not his feuds, and what real point is there in holding a grudge against a large group of people whom he has never met before, and who have never done him any harm? It feels... stupid. Like a waste of time, and there are actually times where he forgets, altogether, that such things exist.

    PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

    「俺は何も見えない。だからこそ、俺以外の人間がちゃんと見えるのは一分でも忘れられない事実だ。」

    Appearance
    Zechariah has very soft black hair with some streaks of white in it. He keeps his fluffy black hair short, and largely keeps it clear of his ears, so that he doesn't have to brush it back all the time to hear anything, but refuses to get buzz cuts. His skin is slightly on the pale side, but is a little rough in general. His features are somewhat sharp and a little petite in some ways, and he has a largely skinny, and ever so slightly lanky figure that still does not fail to display some of his natural strength. Although nearly fully grown, his features retain a childish edge that makes it difficult to forget that he is still in his teens. Thin lips, a very straight nose, well-defined eyebrows, and a slender neck combine to make him a moderately attractive guy. His fingers are long, but bony, and his vibrant blue eyes, fairly wide, not that it does anything for him. He stands at about 5'6.

    Defining Traits
    • Zechariah does not bother covering up his eyes, and instead blinks and looks around with them as most normally would. However, they are clearly blank and they typically rest just a little bit off their intended target, as he turns his eyes to look, but can't actually see.

    • His left hand and forearm he typically wraps in clean white bandages, because the flesh there is very badly burned and mangled. He doesn't really need to do this, as either way his left hand is permanently useless (though he can still move his left arm, trying to use his fingers causes him extreme pain and his grip is neither strong nor precise), but he does so because he knows it makes his disability seem more horrific to others to show off the puckered red flesh, and he's gotten tired of being treated like a complete invalid most especially by his clients.

    • He has pierced ears.

    Clothing Style
    Blind though he might be, Zechariah somehow manages to stay fairly fashionable. His current style involves a loosely buttoned jacket with a collared shirt underneath. When he's feeling fancy, he will occasionally go with some hats, as well. His earrings, however, are almost always very simple black studs, and it is a wonder why he keeps them pierced at all. He rarely otherwise accessorizes.

    Guild Mark
    His guild mark is sunset colored, and covers the area of his left eye when it's closed, but because he largely keeps his eyes open, for the most part, you can only see the outer edges of it.

    [​IMG]


    Fighting Style
    While not incredibly weak, Zechariah is normally exceptionally clumsy and cannot use weapons that require two hands. All he's really got are his feet and his wits, when it comes down to it. As a result it would be difficult to say he has a fighting style outside of his magic. The rest of it would really just have to be called a "running style." Take away his magic and thwart all his dodges, and you've got an easy fight on your hands.

    MAGICAL CHARACTERISTICS

    "The idea that magic is the solution to problems is rather equivalent to the idea that breaking a light bulb will make fixing it less difficult because now someone more qualified will have to change it."

    Ability
    Little to nothing is known about the ancient Yakuma clan. What kind of a people they were, what led to their downfall, and how they developed their magic. The only thing they are known for is eighteen immensely powerful magics spoken in their language known as the Yakuma 18 War Gods Magics. While not formally considered a Lost Magic, the use of these magics is extremely rare, and few can boast that they know even how one learns such a thing, though some say that no matter which of the eighteen one chooses, one cannot learn any of the Yakuma magics unless the mage has endured deep suffering.

    Of the 18, Zechariah was trained only in the one referred to as "Contact." All of the Yakuma War Gods magic follow the same pattern, but each one focuses on a different major factor in war. Such as Territory: representing the land controlled by each opposing force, users of the Territory magic have the ability to manipulate space. One can manipulate space to form heat and generate explosions, teleporting people and/or objects of their choice, and granting the user the ability to switch places with other people who are in close proximity. While Zechariah cannot use Territory, the nature of Contact is much the same.

    The user is able to conjure a kind of wave-like bubble of sound in the approximate shape of an ethereal sphere, which allows them to manipulate the sound within their hearing. One can manipulate sound as a means of defense and offense by means of vibrating molecules at such high speeds that the material bursts into flame, or disorienting them with loud noises or others’ voices, even cause mild hallucinations, etc. However, its true potential is found in defeating multiple enemies at once. The more organized a force, the easier it is to control it with sounds, imitating command patterns and voices. It is one of the more subtle of the War God powers, but is nonetheless extremely useful. It’s greatest drawback, however, is that only one who is blind from a very young age can use this power. As with all the War God magics, it can be used to summon a god-like entity that has an inordinate amount of power over this element, and uses enchantments in the language of the ancient Yakuma tribe. The god-like entity is the most cooperative for contact, as it is the only category for which the being has more than one potential use. It also allows the user to understand and utilize all forms of language, though summoning this entity is the most advanced form of this magic and attempts to summon any of the Yakuma War Gods has resulted in stupid mages' deaths.

    The above, however, mentions only the POTENTIAL. The level reached by each mage is, as for every magic, determined by the individual.

    Spells
    1. Imitation - The ability to precisely replicate a sound from any direction you choose.
    2. Echo-Vision - Basically a form of echolocation so precise that it is possible to act as a replacement for vision except for in terms of flat things (art, color, and letters).
    3. Amplify - The ability to multiply the volume of an ongoing sound, making it much louder.
    4. Silence - Blocks the source of a sound in something of an invisible bubble so that no one outside the radius of the bubble can hear it.
    5. Sound Cage - Creates a cage where the bars are made of such intense sound waves it would cause anyone extreme pain to try leaving through the bars, which, though visible, are not solid.
    6. Sound Burst - Causes an extremely loud burst of sound from the caster that can temporarily stun or disorient those around them.

    OTHER

    「俺がどんなに祈っても。いいえ、この夢が叶われても。無くせばならなければ。。。 自分から離した方がいい。」

    「痛みから逃げるために。」


    Without using his magic, Zechariah has found that by making a certain kind of clicking sound with his tongue, he can still get a general, if slightly vague idea of approximately where things are.

    Since he was so young when he went blind, he would not be able to read even if he were to regain his sight.

    Zechariah does not care for animals. While he doesn't hate them, he's not in love with them, either. The reverse, however, does not appear to be true. Animals love him. Domesticated animals will instantly gravitate towards him, and while this is not so magical a thing that wild ones will follow him around, it takes little for him to win one over. This is something he himself does not appear to notice, though Serinia most certainly does.

    NTS: Potential future powers. Putting out fire, levitating objects, making things catch fire/destroying them, turning sound into electricity, cause physical pain, cause mild hallucinations or trouble breathing, sync vibrations for healing.

    IMPORTANT!!
    Zechariah has told no one but Arba what his magic is, and has never openly displayed or explained it in front of everyone else. Rarely has he ever used it in front of the other members of his guild, either. He prefers to work alone, most often taking "bounty hunter" or "finder" jobs. The only condition he ever gives his clients is that they take no part in the hunt and leave him to his own devices, and those who have attempted to watch him have been met with a "goodbye, and good riddance." "The Cheshire Cat" and "The Blind Hunter" are monikers that have become associated with him outside of the guild, and few know that the two are the same. He does not believe that any of his guild mates knows that either moniker refers to him, but he does not much care if they did.



     
    #8 firejay1, Jul 2, 2016
    Last edited: Jul 18, 2016
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    #9 firejay1, Jul 9, 2016
    Last edited: Jul 13, 2016



  10. CAN YOU FREAKING SEEE MEEEEE




    FILL IN ALL THE SPACE




    SLOPPY MESSY DANCE DANCE


     
  11. [​IMG]

    GENERAL

    Name
    Neyalisshe Luruliyah

    Nicknames
    Night Lily (given by her father)
    One-Coin Ravager (by old guild)
    Chance Witch
    Dove Queen

    Age
    26

    Gender
    Female

    Race
    Human

    Guild
    Colomba

    Occupation
    Guild Master

    Birthday
    March 12th

    Gemstone
    Padparadscha - Neither Ruby nor Sapphire, pink nor orange.
    [​IMG]

    Zodiac Sign
    Pisces - In some sense, correct, in the fundamental aspect, wrong as wrongness can be.
    [​IMG]

    BIOGRAPHY

    Neyalisshe used to think that the idea of a mother was a myth little children told their funny-looking fathers when they were being lonely. Baralind Luruliyah was her father's name, and he raised her by himself. Physically she was nearly the spitting image of him as a child, and even now sometimes she looks in the mirror and sees bits of him shining through. Certainly, however, her temperament was nothing like his. Baralind was a kind, and to an extent weak-willed man, who lived his life as if he was hiding from everything. Neya, on the other hand, had always been an extremely lively and slightly wild child, this made worse by her father's inability to stop her. Although she never really listened to him, though, she loved her father a great deal. One thing in particular that had always fascinated her was that her father was a mage. He never explicitly told her that, but she saw him use it sometimes. She saw its potential when he used it to protect her, or entertain others, or make their lives more comfortable. For reasons she never understood, he never used it for jobs, though. As far as she knew, he was always home, and she had no idea where their income came from. He was not a part of those things called guilds, but his magic seemed... versatile, useful. She couldn't really understand it.

    As she grew older, her wild spirit blossomed even further, and she became something of a delinquent and a bully, a tough fighter who looked for and made as much trouble as she could for everyone. She was a troubled teen who often clashed with her father over his easy-going, half-assed attitude, no longer able to really respect him. Some days it felt like she was trying to push him up a never-ending hill, and the farther up they went, the more pathetic and weak he got. The older she got, the more frail he seemed, the more frustratingly useless and hopeless. And one day when she was 17, in a decision she has regretted ever since, she gave up on him altogether, stole one of his coins, and left the house with an unregistered little "guild." That "guild" was nothing more than a group of late teens (15-19) who went around causing havoc with what little magic they knew, and for two months she was a carefree little bully, constantly acting out, defying the law, stealing or coercing things from others, as if just to spite everything her father had been.

    That all came to a screeching halt when a real dark guild came upon them boasting about their magic, and quite simply ripped them apart, killing most of the group. Their fun little "guild" was disbanded in a flash, and during the fight, Neyalisshe was severely wounded, the only one to escape with her life because of her magic rather than luck. After escaping to the edge of the town, she collapsed. She was found by the twins of Colomba, who had heard about the incident. While she was passed out, the two took her in and began the process of healing her. She awoke a few hours later, though she was bedridden for three days. During that time, the tragedy that she had gone through, watching so many of her friends die set her deep into thought. Why she had joined the guild in the first place, why she had stolen one of her father's coins, everything that had led up to it, and when she was finally healed, she honestly thanked the twins and told them she was returning to her hometown. They wished her well, but told her she would always be welcome to come see them again.

    Her homecoming was not at all what she had expected. Rather than greeting her worried father, she walked into an empty house collecting dust. After searching everywhere, someone finally told her the news. Her father had died. He had been quite ill for some time, though he hadn't told her. After she had disappeared, he had done everything to find her, and in his searching had collapsed for the last time. He had left her every last one of his possessions. The house and everything in it. She scoured the house for things of meaning, a letter, a sign, anything he might have left her for a good reason. Nothing. Not a thing that seemed to have any kind of value. However, to her shock, she discovered not just the one or two occasional coins she'd seen him use, but a whole chest full, along with emotionless instructions on how to store them or make them appear. As for what each one did. Well, she'd have to figure that out herself, apparently, because there was no guide to that. She tried to stay in that house for a while, but it wore out her spirit to stay in the house that constantly reminded her of the father whom she had left to die alone.

    Less than two weeks later, she sold everything except for the coins and began to wander around homeless, unable to settle down, but eventually remembered the twins' offer. On a bit of a whim, she went to Colomba and told the guild masters what had happened. She spoke of it nonchalantly, as if it didn't really matter, but those two understood just what it meant to her, and sat down next to her just to be with her. Before she herself really understood what was going on, Neya was crying. She cried herself to sleep that night in the guild and when she woke again was told that she was theirs now. Part of the guild, one of their children.

    It had originally been their intention to simply give her a home, because that was their brand of kindness, but they quickly came to understand that she had a natural aptitude for magic. Whoever her mother was, she took to the usage of her father's coins as if they were old friends. However, she expressed some interest in other forms of magic, so the twins introduced her to various types until she seemed to find one she liked. They watched her grow not only in the usage of magic, but also in the way she dealt with other people, the way she had put effort into changing her life drastically from what it had been. Slowly, they began to groom her for the guild master position, unbeknownst to even her. When they passed away, they left her the key to the secret safe and their will announced the intention for her to run the guild, which she has been doing ever since, though even she does not understand why they would leave so precious a thing to her.

    PERSONAL/MENTAL

    Personality
    Neya appears, for the most part, to be a gentle, kind woman, if a little bit physically intimidating at times. She loves children and her guild members, and believes that everyone has some good in them. She is constantly thinking about how best to help others, even at her own expense, and is friendly and accepting of other people, even those with horrible pasts. She makes a point of being starkly morally just, and stands up for others when she does not always do so for herself. She is a good listener and is careful about the words she uses. In council meetings, she is a thoughtful, devil's advocate type - always arguing to make sure no point of view is overlooked, while calming or mediating conflicts. She rarely raises her voice and almost never shows off what strength she has. Some might say she's a classic polite, demure, "goody two-shoes." Any of her guild members who've been around long enough, however, know that that's... not quite it. Or rather, it's not all there is to her personality. While it certainly is true that Neyalisshe cares deeply about other people and most of all about second chances, believing in those everyone else has given up hope for, she also makes it clear that she has a line you Do Not Cross. This is not simply a matter of "standing up for others" or "having a spine." When Colomba's guild master gets angry, her displeasure is, though no one would say it to her face, quite honestly unnecessarily violent. She has perhaps what would best be called an "angry meter." When it hits "very irritated" she starts throwing things. Once it hits "very angry" you can expect a beating and a sudden burst of swearing. And once it hits "furious," though it rarely does, what ensues could only be described as a total catastrophe. Anger aside, among her guild members or friends, she can also be slightly teasing and a bit of a troublemaker, the kind of woman who enjoys a thrill and tackles scary situations with a kind of nonsensical glee. People who get to know her come to understand that both her reckless, violent side, and her thoughtful, kind side are just two parts of a whole, neither one complete without the other.

    Strengths
    Intelligent/Observant
    Hard-working/Persevering
    Close-combat
    Usually Cool-headed
    Forgiving
    Healing

    Weaknesses
    Too trusting
    Ranged combat
    Taking control of her strongest emotions (very emotional once it gets going)
    Sometimes hesitant with her decisions (because of her past, not naturally)

    Likes
    Skulls

    Dislikes
    Bedtime Stories

    Fears
    Cats and Fruit (Yes, fruit. Her father once told her a story about talking flesh-eating pears when she was a child, and it frightened her so much that he found it cute and made her bedtime stories fruithorror-themed. Which is also why she hates bedtime stories.)

    PHYSICAL

    Appearance
    Neya is a striking woman, and on first glance much more intimidating than she would like to be. She has long, straight black hair and bangs, a mole under her right eye, and sharp features. She is tall, and possesses a natural, physical grace, but her dark grey eyes have an automatic glare to them that instinctively scares people. She is fairly pale, with a small nose and thin lips, and her eyes seem to disappear a little when she smiles.

    Guild Mark
    Proudly displayed right beneath her collar bones on the flat portion of her chest. It is not unusual for her to wear dresses with low cuts when attending formal occasions so that her guild mark is clear to see. Colomba's guild sign is rather unusual compared to that of most guilds, and Neya has made hers further unusual by changing the color scheme on her chest to be in darker colors.

    [​IMG]

    INVENTORY

    Neya holds two forms of magic, and while neither is inherently very strong, both are extremely versatile. Interestingly, she uses her secondary magic (the weaker one she is less comfortable with) much more often than her main magic, bringing that out as a wild card (or coin, I suppose would be more accurate here) when it seems her secondary magic is not enough.

    Ability (Secondary)
    Perfume Magic
    A form of Magic that entails the use of vials filled with Magical perfume. By uncapping the vials, the user releases a scent that, once inhaled, triggers one of various, status-affecting spells; ranging from alleviating pain to curing some poisons, though all these effects are temporary. While it holds significant appeal as a supportive Magic, it also has application as an offensive Magic. Because perfume is not easily blocked or avoided, Perfume Magic can be potent enough to help take down even the strongest mages, making it very versatile, regardless of the user's own Magic Power or skill. This Magic can also be used on the user themselves, increasing attributes such as speed, strength, even muscle size, by an incredible margin. It also allows users to take control of different elements, such as lightning, etc, though Neya herself has never used it in this capacity. Practiced users of Perfume Magic develop highly perceptive olfactory senses; notable Perfume Magic users are known to recognize people, and even the nature of their Magic Power, by smelling their scent.

    Spells
    Each kind is incredibly simple and typically causes only one effect, whose name tends to be self-explanatory. The list below is ordered by complexity.

    Pain-Relieving Perfume
    Pain Perfume
    Fleet-Foot Perfume: Zero-Distance Inhalation - increases user speed
    Power Perfume - increases user strength/muscle
    Poison Perfume
    ~~
    Tickle Perfume
    Sneeze Perfume
    Confusion Perfume
    Sleep Perfume
    Heal Perfume - causes smellers/user to heal more quickly
    Energizing Perfume
    Attraction Perfume - causes smellers to feel strong attraction to user
    Weak Perfume - causes smellers to feel weak, decreasing physical and magical strength
    Gender-change Perfume - changes gender of smellers/user
    Invisible Perfume - causes user to become invisible
    Body-double Perfume - causes user to leave a body double every time they move
    Memory Perfume - allows user to pass memories to smeller
    Control Perfume - allows user to temporarily control smeller
    Copy Perfume [Individual] - allows user to copy the physical form of a specific individual, if they have first captured that individual's smell. (requires different perfume for each person they want to copy)
    Free-Heart Perfume - releases smeller inhibitions, allowing their true heart to come through


    Ability (Main)
    Coins Magic
    This type of magic can best be described as a game of chance that nobody wants to be playing. There are many different kinds of coins, and each one is unique, carved with complex emblems on each side that cause different effects. These coins appear to be made of gold, and as far as Neya can tell are impervious to all kinds of magic. Additionally, she has never seen anyone else use them, nor knows how her father obtained them when they are not sold or offered anywhere. Each coin has the ability to cause two effects, both of the same theme, though not identical. Such as summoning a giant lion versus summoning a giant bird, or a causing a controlled slice of wind versus a giant twist of it. A very few coins have the same function, several can be used to track people, some can be used as communications devices among those with the coins on them, and others can be used to warn the user that someone is in danger, much in the same way magic cards can be used. These coins have only one side and are the only ones for which this is the case. A very specific set of five are used for fortune-telling, though only Neya really seems to be able to read them, and their accuracy is in no way guaranteed.

    A majority of the coins, however, have a simple two-sided structure. Neya will flip a coin, and when it hits a flat surface, the face facing up when it lands will cause a burst of an effect. While unpredictable even for the user, there are several advantages to using coin magic. Firstly that its unpredictable style makes it hard to prepare for or fight against, secondly that it takes very little magical power to use, and thirdly that it is not limited to a specific element (much like cards magic, perfume magic, and ring magic). While it can be compared to cards magic in its ability to summon beings and and elements, throwing it has no effect, one cannot trap individuals in it (though it is possible to immobilize them), and it further has the ability to affect a specific area and person - to form a barrier, nullify all magic within a certain area, cause someone to forget something, or suddenly appear to grow very old. It can also create illusions, or equip the user with some kind of weapon or armor. While straightforward summons and attacks can be avoided, avoiding an effect directed at one's person or at a specific area requires one to stop the coin from hitting a flat surface and thus nullify the spell. Nothing else will do.

    One major drawback is that the coins are difficult to learn how to use as they look largely identical apart from the markings inscribed upon them. Its creations are also, much like other less specialized holder magics, rarely as strong as that wielded by sole users of the element. A summoned ice beast, for instance, will not be as strong as a beast created by an ice-make mage. It is difficult to say whether this is an advantage or a disadvantage, but the effect of each coin will only last as long as it stays where it fell. Meaning if you drop a coin on a table, and it promptly falls off the edge and onto the ground, the effect will last for only a brief flash of a moment. And if you don't want to lose your coins or leave them around, all of your spells will be extremely temporary. Using multiple coins at once is a huge risk, because that is a number of "possibilities" stacked on top of each other, but it is possible to combine effects by doing so. Dropping a wind-based coin, for instance, with a fire-based coin, may very likely give you an inferno-based attack. Furthermore, as little magic as it may seem to take to use the magic in these coins, using too many does eventually wear one out. The one thing you never want to hear if you're anywhere near Neya, is the patter of many different coins raining onto the ground, because that means she's willing to do anything to win the fight, and neither you nor her have any idea what's actually going to happen.

    Specialties
    Besides using her magic, Neya is excellent at hand-to-hand combat, and is also known for her ferocious throws, which are archer-level accurate and can basically turn anything more rigid than paper into a deadly weapon (okay, that's an exaggeration...)

    Weapons
    Neya does not typically use weapons, but when she does, it is a long chain whip with a sharp end reminiscent of a devil's tail, that has curiously been blunted.

    Charms
    The key around her neck given to her by the twins and used to open the safe door.
    Her father's set of coins.
    A simple black ring she wears on her right ring finger emblazoned with an odd symbol vaguely reminiscent of a guild mark in the shape of a skull. If it has special properties, no one else has seen it yet. Like below, but with HORNS.
    [​IMG]

    Armor
    Armor? HAH. Who needs something like that?

    OTHER

    She was once engaged.

    She secretly wishes that she could some day find out who her mother was, and why she never knew her.

    Will add other random facts if think of them, as I will probably add weaknesses, likes and dislikes as I discover them.​
     
    #13 firejay1, Jul 18, 2016
    Last edited: Jul 29, 2016


  12. MOHAHAHA
    dubudubu

    Slide 1
    huahua
     
    #14 firejay1, Aug 30, 2016
    Last edited: Sep 26, 2016
  13. Not intending to steal, keeping for reference to learn how this works.



    [​IMG]
    bubblebubble
    [​IMG]
    [​IMG]
    [​IMG]
     


  14. [​IMG]

    It's Only the Fairy Tale
    Yuki Kajiura
    Merlin's Sleeping Spell
    Peter Gundry
    La valse d'Amélie
    Yann Tierson
    A Nostalgic Dream
    Peter Gundry
    Butterfly
    Runaground

























    Liyavalesce | Female | Regeneration
    Verloren Waveborne | Male | 24


    Verloren Personality
    :: Old Man of the Wilds ::
    Although still a relatively young man, when Verloren walks into a room, there seems to come with him an automatic sense of eternal equanimity - the kind that comes with someone who, one feels, must have already seen the world in all its troubles, and decided that he is well with it. He is a quiet man, prone to introspection, and at times it appears a little spacey. Despite his taciturn, self-dependent nature, when spoken to he turns out to be a kind, thoughtful, and even friendly person, who has little trouble with social interaction. He would rather be silent than speak a lie, yet rather speak a lie to help someone than speak the truth when it causes someone pain. However, his closest relationship remains with nature itself. A very spiritual man, Verloren prays for the lives of the animals whose lives he takes, giving thanks to nature for his every meal. He does, however, also believe in the cycle of life and death as the natural way of life. Plants, animals, even humans, the time will come for everyone when the gods will it. This being the case, he has similar qualms killing people as he does animals. He wouldn't do it if it wasn't necessary, never for fun, but he wouldn't hesitate if it was, either.













    Liyavalesce Personality
    § Roses of the Shadows §
    Liyavalesce is much of anything anyone expects a regeneration dragon to be - timid and clingy. On the day she hatched, the little dragon slunk under the remnants of her shell to hide. Throughout her two years at the Monastary, she mostly stuck to herself, learning to keep herself out of trouble and becoming excellent at navigating the shadows. She continues to be shy, hating confrontation of any kind and preferring to spend her time taking care of flowers and playing hide and seek with the rest of the world. Beyond her timid nature, though, and perhaps despite it, Liya is a vicious hunter and fighter, underhanded, quick, observant, and sneaky when she needs or wants to be. She is very smart and inquisitive, but also extremely insecure, and so often does not have the confidence to speak up even when sometimes she should or very much wants to. Although she dislikes conflict, she is not a pacifist and is vulnerable to her emotional state in general - at times moody, changeable, and even potentially reckless.












    History
    Verloren Waveborne was so named because of his coming, though not his birth. On the edge of the Nira Nomad Settlement in Galidus, there lived a woman neither very old nor very young. She lived largely alone, raising a few horses and eagles on her own, using them to hunt, traveling some miles to the nearby settlement for anything else. Not alone by any design of others, but through her own love for the quiet life. She was content in this solitary existence, but it seemed the gods had other designs, for one day, as she slept, she was granted a dream unlike any other she had ever had.

    She stood alone on the shores of the river, her little house some distance behind her - a familiar sight. The simple cloth of her nightgown hugged her body slightly as the wind played about it, sweeping her long red hair along with it and causing a light chill to set into her bones. Without knowing why, she stepped forward, feet making soft sounds in the grass at the bank of the river. The giggling of the wind and the soft rustling of her feet in the grass were the only sounds, moonlight revealing the great expanse as still, absent of life besides her own. She did not stop until she felt liquid lapping at her toes. With the chill of the night, she knew that it should have turned her feet to ice, but she barely felt it, face transfixed on the empty space in front of her. For a long moment there was nothing. No movement, no life, just her and the wind. Then two creatures burst from the center of the river, and she knew this was what she had been waiting for. They were horses, but not the hardy creatures she knew. They coats seemed to glitter white in the moonlight, large wings spreading from the backs of the sleek beasts. She could not move from where she stood, awe rendering her speechless as they approached together, gliding above the waves. Of their flawless forms there existed only two spots of color: their glowing eyes. One of the elegant beings had one eye of molten gold, another of silver. The other contrasted a violent purple with a bright green no plant could ever attain. They drew to a smooth halt in front of her, and again there was silence.

    Voices rumbled forth in unison, but the horses had made no motion. The words simply echoed across the plain, as if brought from the wind itself. Er nennt Verloren. Er ist Verloren. Aber er werde nicht Verloren ist. The nonsensical words were repeated twice, to fade into the echoes as they had come into being. The winged horses in front of her grew bright, brighter and brighter, until she could no longer keep her eyes on them. She closed her eyelids for just a moment, and when she opened them again the glow had faded and the horses were gone. In their place was a silent baby with silvery white hair, hovering above the water at chest-height. The woman reached out for him, but the dream ended abruptly and she awoke to find her arms stretched to the ceiling, eyes wide awake in the dark of her home.

    Standing up hastily, she went to the river bank, and there indeed, on the shore in the grass, was the child from her dreams. There was nobody beside him, he was simply there as if he had sprouted from the grass itself. But she knew better, he had been born from the waves in the form of two beautiful horses with great wings. So she dubbed him as she knew him: Verloren Waveborne, the child brought from the river.

    Verloren was raised by the woman he would call Grandmother in much the same fashion she had always lived her life. Their way of life was simple, unassuming, poor by some standards, and relatively self-sufficient. It was a peaceful way to live and came with a deep reverence for both life and death. It was an uneventful existence, but he had been told the story of his coming and knew that Grandmother believed he was destined for greater things. So when, indeed, he sensed a strange longing in his soul, he took it as no more than the natural progression of life. He came to Grandmother one night, when he was 22, to tell her that the time for his journey to begin had come, and silently she rose and packed him a small basket of supplies. With no more communication than that, Verloren took the basket and his staff, and walked out the door without looking back. His journey was one of faith. Little wandering led him to Mistwind Camp, and though he knew not why, there he stayed for two years, becoming one of the rugged, suspicious folk of the town, though never quite one with them. He was used to the quiet life, and thus it was that he settled on the edge of the town just as Grandmother had with the Nira Nomad Settlement.

    Just a few months past, however, late in spring, Verloren was out in the hills and fields collecting herbs, when smoke began to rise from the village. He approached to see the settlement under attack, and though he ran forward to help, all valiant efforts were in vain. Those who could not fight fled, those who could were pushed back, the invading forces slaughtering as they went. It was the white-haired man's first encounter with the plagued of Ogual. He was not frightened or horrified, but greatly angered at this perversion of nature, and it was then that he knew why he had been sent here, where he must go. It was again time to set forth. To the Monastery he headed, in search of answers from the gods and the wise monks who lived there, but along the way, strange stories reached his ears. The people of Ylandre, gossip said, had been saved by great legends reborn - the dragons had flown again across the skies of Illos, and upon their backs rode mighty warriors.

    The Dragon Tamers had returned.

    Another, more ominous rumor also reached his ears, however. There were dark whispers that these dragon tamers had had the choice to save Mistwind or Ylandre, and they had chosen Ylandre, leaving his home to the dogs. Others spoke fearfully of Ogual's next move. The dragon tamers had saved one city, but surely their coming meant war was upon them. Were not times indeed dangerous if these great saviors had come? All the rumors, fearful whispers, joyful celebrations swirled about the road he traveled to the Monastery, but he remained undeterred. When he arrived at his destination, however, he understood that he had been wrong. He had not been meant to come for the wisdom and guidance of the monks, but for something else he could not explain. He never imagined it would be for the Order of the Dragons, much less that he could be destined to be a tamer, but the monks whisked him in. As they rushed him in, his head and heart turned to a portion of the Monastery with great open fields. It took no guidance for him to find his way to one such open field where he waited, just as his caretaker had in a dream more than twenty years ago, awaiting something greater. There he stood, transfixed on what was to come, and from the sky descended a creature more beautiful than anything he could have imagined, to change his world forever.


    Verloren Strengths
    Calm Under Pressure
    Physically Strong
    High Stamina
    Observant
    Self-Sufficient
    Emotionally Peaceful
    Liyavalesce Strengths
    Ferocious Fighter
    Fast
    Stealthy
    Observant
    Careful/Neat/Organized
    Intelligent





    Verloren Weaknesses
    Occasionally Absent-Minded
    Unused to Taking Orders (Independent)
    Used to Taking His Time
    Liyavalesce Weaknesses
    Easily Frightened
    Emotional
    Indecisive






    Liyavalesce Abilities
    Healing - The pink dragon's scales are unique in the sense that, when ground up, they contain healing properties. When the powder is mixed with water and applied to minor cuts and abrasions the effects are almost immediate.
    Regeneration - It take A LOT to kill a pink dragon. Though they are quaint creatures, in the way of dragons, they heal exceptionally fast and could repair broken bones in just a week or regrow whole limbs.
    Fresh Scent - These dragons somehow managed to weave the scent of flowers into their genetics; be it by magic or miracle. This scent is ideal for attracting the attention of deer and other prey. They rely on it to draw their prey out into an ambush as they do not enjoy fighting.
    Tree Climber - A fairly small dragon, Liya has not always relied on her wings. She has learned from watching Aleria how to clamber up with her talons alone, and is relatively good at navigating a forest canopy now.
    Hide and Seek - Although not so cleverly camouflaged as many of her kin, the regeneration dragon is a clever hider. She can slip and blend into the shadows the way a snake can slink through the grass. It's an imperfect skill because of her physiology, but one she's learned from her shy ways.
    Eyes in the Dark - Liya's ability to discern things through the darkness has come from her tendency to hide in the shadows anyways. Her eyes are really no different from the rest of the dragons, but two years of spending most of her time in whatever forests and caves lay within the boundary of the Monastery taught her to analyze the shades in the moments before the eyes adjust.
    Green Thumb - Regeneration dragons of old tended to and harvested the flowers of their wide, lonely fields, and Liya is no exception. She has always had a great love for the simple beauty of little field flowers, and nurtured a small patch in the Monastery that is now hailed as one of the most beautiful collections of flowers in the area. Using the knowledge of her ancestors to provide each kind with the right amount of sun and water, separating them out a little, but seeding them such that flowers of complementing colors would grow close to each other, and yet not overrun each other. All of these little things would have made her an excellent florist.





















    Verloren Abilities
    Bonded Ability: Shared Burden - A regeneration tamer can conduct a form of healing that causes the tamer to take on half of the other person's pain and symptoms in exchange for an increased rate of healing and an equal half of the pain.
    Staff Wielder - It is a common misconception that the use of a staff is not deadly. This may be correct in such a case where all the person knows is to swing in fancy flourishes and smack someone over the head with it, but it is not the case for Verloren, for whom it is like an extension of his body. While perhaps a bit more difficult to kill with than things that slash and cut, it is nonetheless a lethal weapon when used correctly.
    Living the Hunter Life - Verloren's childhood meant that from the time he was little, he was out in the plains. Thanks to their couple of eagles and a small herd of horses, he is an excellent rider, knows how to treat these kinds of animals, and has some skill with hunting by falconry. He is also skillful at skinning and cleaning different kinds of game.
    Housewifely Duties - Though his caretaker was not at all what one would call lazy or negligent, as he grew older she assigned him different duties within the household. As such, he is fair at cooking, cleaning, basic sewing to patch up old clothes, and a little first aid.
    Eye for the Herbs - Verloren and the woman who raised him did not cultivate their own grains and herbs. Mostly, they got those things by trading with the nearby settlement for the skins they got. It seemed, however, that Verloren even as a child was good at recognizing the different sorts of herbs found in the wild, and he began collecting them without Grandmother's direction or permission. It is a combination of detailed observation and instinct that has never really left him, and he is quite handy when it comes to finding medicinal herbs or even just nice little edible plants to supplement the meal. He is at a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to unfamiliar terrain in this aspect, though.


















    Relationships
    Grandmother - This red-haired woman's name is unknown to Verloren. Even when he was in the settlement running errands for her, the villagers merely referred to her as "The Old Woman." She has an ageless face, some wrinkles that make her seem as if she might be in her thirties, but for as long as she raised him, Verloren has not seen her appear to age, and the villagers all speak of her with some quiet reverence, as if she were a part of the land itself. To Verloren, however, she holds a special position. She is not his mother, but a greatly respected mother-figure and teacher. He believes in her, and before he left, would have been prepared to listen to her without question, though now he believes she would no longer even attempt to exert that kind of influence over him. She is, to him, a symbol of wisdom and his childhood, as well as a lady of some great esteem, despite her humble accommodations.

    TBA





     
    #16 firejay1, Oct 24, 2016
    Last edited: Nov 27, 2016
    • Love Love x 1
    • Bucket of Rainbows Bucket of Rainbows x 1
  15. attempting things

    Ferrari
    The Neighbourhood
    Honey Whiskey
    Nothing But Thieves
    Swimming Pools
    Strawberry Girls
    Fairly Local
    Twenty One Pilots
    Honey Whiskey
    Nothing But Thieves








    PLOT
    blahblahbalh













    PLOT


    CAST




    bugger off mate





    DANCE FOR MEH BABBE





    DANCE FOR MEH BABBE








    DANCE FOR MEH BABBE
    DANCE FOR MEH BABBE



    Ferrari
    The Neighbourhood
    Honey Whiskey
    Nothing But Thieves






























    Verloren Personality
    Old Man of the Wilds
    Although still a relatively young man, when Verloren walks into a room, there seems to come with him an automatic sense of eternal equanimity - the kind that comes with someone who, one feels, must have already seen the world in all its troubles, and decided that he is well with it. He is a quiet man, prone to introspection, and at times it appears a little spacey. Despite his taciturn, self-dependent nature, when spoken to he turns out to be a kind and thoughtful person, who has little trouble with social interaction. He would rather be silent than speak a lie, yet rather speak a lie to help someone than speak the truth when it causes someone pain. However, his closest relationship remains with nature itself. A very spiritual man, Verloren prays for the lives of the animals whose lives he takes, giving thanks to nature for his every meal. He does, however, also believe in the cycle of life and death as the natural way of life. Plants, animals, even humans, the time will come for everyone when the gods will it. This being the case, he has similar qualms killing people as he does animals. He wouldn't do it if it wasn't necessary, never for fun, but he wouldn't hesitate if it was, either.

    Liyavalesce Personality
    Roses of the Shadows
    Liyavalesce is much of anything anyone expects a regeneration dragon to be - timid and clingy. On the day she hatched, the little dragon slunk under the remnants of her shell to hide. Throughout her two years at the Monastary, she mostly stuck to herself, learning to navigate the shadows and becoming excellent at navigating the shadows. She continues to be shy, hating confrontation of any kind and preferring to spend her time taking care of flowers and playing hide and seek with the rest of the world. Beyond her timid nature, though, and perhaps despite it, Liya is a vicious hunter and fighter, underhanded, quick, observant, and sneaky when she needs or wants to be. She is very smart and inquisitive, but also extremely insecure, and so often does not have the confidence to speak up even when sometimes she should or very much wants to. Although she dislikes conflict, she is not a pacifist and is vulnerable to her emotional state in general - at times moody, changeable, and even potentially reckless.

    History
    Verloren Waveborne was so named because of his coming, though not his birth. On the edge of the Nira Nomad Settlement in Galidus, there lived a woman neither very old nor very young. She lived largely alone, raising a few horses and eagles on her own, using them to hunt, traveling some miles to the nearby settlement for anything else. Not alone by any design of others, but through her own love for the quiet life. She was content in this solitary existence, but it seemed the gods had other designs, for one day, as she slept, she was granted a dream unlike any other she had ever had.

    She stood alone on the shores of the river, her little house some distance behind her - a familiar sight. The simple cloth of her nightgown hugged her body slightly as the wind played about it, sweeping her long red hair along with it and causing a light chill to set into her bones. Without knowing why, she stepped forward, feet making soft sounds in the grass at the bank of the river. The giggling of the wind and the soft rustling of her feet in the grass were the only sounds, moonlight revealing the great expanse as still, absent of life besides her own. She did not stop until she felt liquid lapping at her toes. With the chill of the night, she knew that it should have turned her feet to ice, but she barely felt it, face transfixed on the empty space in front of her. For a long moment there was nothing. No movement, no life, just her and the wind. Then two creatures burst from the center of the river, and she knew this was what she had been waiting for. They were horses, but not the hardy creatures she knew. They coats seemed to glitter white in the moonlight, large wings spreading from the backs of the sleek beasts. She could not move from where she stood, awe rendering her speechless as they approached together, gliding above the waves. Of their flawless forms there existed only two spots of color: their glowing eyes. One of the elegant beings had one eye of molten gold, another of silver. The other contrasted a violent purple with a bright green no plant could ever attain. They drew to a smooth halt in front of her, and again there was silence.

    Voices rumbled forth in unison, but the horses had made no motion. The words simply echoed across the plain, as if brought from the wind itself. Er nennt Verloren. Er ist Verloren. Aber er werde nicht Verloren ist. The nonsensical words were repeated twice, to fade into the echoes as they had come into being. The winged horses in front of her grew bright, brighter and brighter, until she could no longer keep her eyes on them. She closed her eyelids for just a moment, and when she opened them again the glow had faded and the horses were gone. In their place was a silent baby with silvery white hair, hovering above the water at chest-height. The woman reached out for him, but the dream ended abruptly and she awoke to find her arms stretched to the ceiling, eyes wide awake in the dark of her home.

    Standing up hastily, she went to the river bank, and there indeed, on the shore in the grass, was the child from her dreams. There was nobody beside him, he was simply there as if he had sprouted from the grass itself. But she knew better, he had been born from the waves in the form of two beautiful horses with great wings. So she dubbed him as she knew him: Verloren Waveborne, the child brought from the river.

    Verloren was raised by the woman he would call Grandmother in much the same fashion she had always lived her life. Their way of life was simple, unassuming, poor by some standards, and relatively self-sufficient. It was a peaceful way to live and came with a deep reverence for both life and death. It was an uneventful existence, but he had been told the story of his coming and knew that Grandmother believed he was destined for greater things. So when, indeed, he sensed a strange longing in his soul, he took it as no more than the natural progression of life. He came to Grandmother one night, when he was 22, to tell her that the time for his journey to begin had come, and silently she rose and packed him a small basket of supplies. With no more communication than that, Verloren took the basket and his staff, and walked out the door without looking back. His journey was one of faith. Little wandering led him to Mistwind Camp, and though he knew not why, there he stayed for two years, becoming one of the rugged, suspicious folk of the town, though never quite one with them. He was used to the quiet life, and thus it was that he settled on the edge of the town just as Grandmother had with the Nira Nomad Settlement.

    Just a few months past, however, late in spring, Verloren was out in the hills and fields collecting herbs, when smoke began to rise from the village. He approached to see the settlement under attack, and though he ran forward to help, all valiant efforts were in vain. Those who could not fight fled, those who could were pushed back, the invading forces slaughtering as they went. It was the white-haired man's first encounter with the plagued of Ogual. He was not frightened or horrified, but greatly angered at this perversion of nature, and it was then that he knew why he had been sent here, where he must go. It was again time to set forth. To the Monastery he headed, in search of answers from the gods and the wise monks who lived there, but along the way, strange stories reached his ears. The people of Ylandre, gossip said, had been saved by great legends reborn - the dragons had flown again across the skies of Illos, and upon their backs rode mighty warriors.

    The Dragon Tamers had returned.

    Another, more ominous rumor also reached his ears, however. There were dark whispers that these dragon tamers had had the choice to save Mistwind or Ylandre, and they had chosen Ylandre, leaving his home to the dogs. Others spoke fearfully of Ogual's next move. The dragon tamers had saved one city, but surely their coming meant war was upon them. Were not times indeed dangerous if these great saviors had come? All the rumors, fearful whispers, joyful celebrations swirled about the road he traveled to the Monastery, but he remained undeterred. When he arrived at his destination, however, he understood that he had been wrong. He had not been meant to come for the wisdom and guidance of the monks, but for something else he could not explain. He never imagined it would be for the Order of the Dragons, much less that he could be destined to be a tamer, but the monks whisked him in. As they rushed him in, his head and heart turned to a portion of the Monastery with great open fields. It took no guidance for him to find his way to one such open field where he waited, just as his caretaker had in a dream more than twenty years ago, awaiting something greater. There he stood, transfixed on what was to come, and from the sky descended a creature more beautiful than anything he could have imagined, to change his world forever.

    Verloren Strengths
    Calm Under Pressure
    Physically Strong
    High Stamina
    Observant
    Self-Sufficient
    Emotionally Peaceful

    LIyavalesce Strengths
    Ferocious Fighter
    Fast
    Stealthy
    Observant
    Careful/Neat/Organized
    Intelligent

    Verloren Weaknesses
    Occasionally Absent-Minded
    Unused to Taking Orders (Independent)
    Used to Taking His Time

    Liyavalesce Weaknesses
    Easily Frightened
    Emotional
    Indecisive

    Verloren Abilities
    Bonded Ability: Shared Burden - A regeneration tamer can conduct a form of healing that causes the tamer to take on half of the other person's pain and symptoms in exchange for an increased rate of healing and an equal half of the pain.
    (ALTERNATE) Bonded Ability: Switched Burden - A regeneration tamer has the ability to, not heal its own injuries, but transfer injuries between people, returning the original person to their prior state of health, and reproducing those immediate injuries to another person, most easily themselves.
    (ALTERNATE) Bonded Ability: Regeneration - The same as the regeneration dragon, regeneration tamers have the ability to heal exceptionally quickly, repairing and regenerating lost tissue at astonishing rates. As such, it makes them difficult to impossible to kill.
    Staff Wielder - It is a common misconception that the use of a staff is not deadly. This may be correct in such a case where all the person knows is to swing in fancy flourishes and smack someone over the head with it, but it is not the case for Verloren, for whom it is like an extension of his body. While perhaps a bit more difficult to kill with than things that slash and cut, it is nonetheless a lethal weapon when used correctly.
    Living the Hunter Life - Verloren's childhood meant that from the time he was little, he was out in the plains. Thanks to their couple of eagles and a small herd of horses, he is an excellent rider, knows how to treat these kinds of animals, and has some skill with hunting by falconry. He is also skillful at skinning and cleaning different kinds of game.
    Housewifely Duties - Though his caretaker was not at all what one would call lazy or negligent, as he grew older she assigned him different duties within the household. As such, he is fair at cooking, cleaning, basic sewing to patch up old clothes, and a little first aid.
    Eye for the Herbs - Verloren and the woman who raised him did not cultivate their own grains and herbs. Mostly, they got those things by trading with the nearby settlement for the skins they got. It seemed, however, that Verloren even as a child was good at recognizing the different sorts of herbs found in the wild, and he began collecting them without Grandmother's direction or permission. It is a combination of detailed observation and instinct that has never really left him, and he is quite handy when it comes to finding medicinal herbs or even just nice little edible plants to supplement the meal. He is at a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to unfamiliar terrain in this aspect, though.

    Liyavalesce Abilities
    Healing - The pink dragon's scales are unique in the sense that, when ground up, they contain healing properties. When the powder is mixed with water and applied to minor cuts and abrasions the effects are almost immediate.
    Regeneration - It take A LOT to kill a pink dragon. Though they are quaint creatures, in the way of dragons, they heal exceptionally fast and could repair broken bones in just a week or regrow whole limbs.
    Fresh Scent - These dragons somehow managed to weave the scent of flowers into their genetics; be it by magic or miracle. This scent is ideal for attracting the attention of deer and other prey. They rely on it to draw their prey out into an ambush as they do not enjoy fighting.
    Tree Climber - A fairly small dragon, Liya has not always relied on her wings. She has learned from watching Aleria how to clamber up with her talons alone, and is relatively good at navigating a forest canopy now.
    Hide and Seek - Although not so cleverly camouflaged as many of her kin, the regeneration dragon is a clever hider. She can slip and blend into the shadows the way a snake can slink through the grass. It's an imperfect skill because of her physiology, but one she's learned from her shy ways.
    Eyes in the Dark - Liya's ability to discern things through the darkness has come from her tendency to hide in the shadows anyways. Her eyes are really no different from the rest of the dragons, but two years of spending most of her time in whatever forests and caves lay within the boundary of the Monastery taught her to analyze the shades in the moments before the eyes adjust.
    Green Thumb - Regeneration dragons of old tended to and harvested the flowers of their wide, lonely fields, and Liya is no exception. She has always had a great love for the simple beauty of little field flowers, and nurtured a small patch in the Monastery that is now hailed as one of the most beautiful collections of flowers in the area. Using the knowledge of her ancestors to provide each kind with the right amount of sun and water, separating them out a little, but seeding them such that flowers of complementing colors would grow close to each other, and yet not overrun each other. All of these little things would have made her an excellent florist.

    Relationships
    Grandmother - This red-haired woman's name is unknown to Verloren. Even when he was in the settlement running errands for her, the villagers merely referred to her as "The Old Woman." She has an ageless face, some wrinkles that make her seem as if she might be in her thirties, but for as long as she raised him, Verloren has not seen her appear to age, and the villagers all speak of her with some quiet reverence, as if she were a part of the land itself. To Verloren, however, she holds a special position. She is not his mother, but a greatly respected mother-figure and teacher. He believes in her, and before he left, would have been prepared to listen to her without question, though now he believes she would no longer even attempt to exert that kind of influence over him. She is, to him, a symbol of wisdom and his childhood, as well as a lady of some great esteem, despite her humble accommodations.

    TBA
     
    #17 firejay1, Oct 25, 2016
    Last edited: Nov 27, 2016
    • Thank Thank x 1
  16. also attempting to study this code!! (Elle Joyner's)



    "character quotes goes here"
    「 HAL MIDIGAN 」
    ⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ LOCATION | Balduri ⦙⦙ MAGIC | None ⦙⦙ AGE | 27 ⦙⦙ WEIGHT | 6'2" ⦙⦙ HEIGHT | 156lbs.

    personality
    Hal is often said to be a considerate man by his peers, his adoptive father often endearingly telling him he did not belong with the Baladuri. His compassion is near empathetic, driving him to brash decisions that have often gotten himself into trouble with the Champions of the land. He can't help himself but meddle in the affairs of the Baladuri to fight against the slavery, and he has often taken part of what was known as "freedom raids" to free the natives from their chains and labor. The efforts of the "freedom raids" drastically affected the economy as their mines lacked workers, and thus ale became their primary export once again.

    Many of the poorer homes were left without coal to warm them through the cold seasons bringing about conflict within Hal's mind. Had he done the right thing? It was a hard lesson to learn in having to consider the bigger picture. Instead of freeing the slaves and having them run into hiding, diplomacy should have been in place to bring these natives into the world as workers earning wages for their work. Now the natives had to hide away in the Northern Mountains to avoid being hunted down, meanwhile children were dying in their own homes as they froze to death.

    He feels like he has to save the world, but he constantly stretches himself too thin. Hal constantly seeks out the elders and attends gatherings to hear the stories of the Dragon Wardens and of the history of the Four Kingdoms and of the first King Nalth. While he is still prone to being brash, in his older age he has matured to understand thinking before acting is very important.
    history

    Weapon specialization || Short sword

    Profession || Coal miner (for half a year as punishment), Thatcher

    Skills || Rock climbing, survivalist skills, tracking

    Hal was found by his adoptive parents within the Mouth of the Mountain as just a small child. Living so close to the infamous dormant volcano, they often traveled up its slope to check on the tree that grew within its chasm. No matter what season or how cold it would get, that tree always kept its leaves and never cycled through the seasons. But they noticed after a blizzard the tree's branches that barely peeked out of the Mouth no longer carried leaves. When they went to investigate, they noticed a glow like a fire down within the cave.

    Nor and Kathan Midigan came across a young boy no older than four who sat beside a small fire quietly sobbing. When asked where his parents were, he could not answer. When asked what his name was, he could not answer. And so they left a note upon the wall in case his parents were to ever return that they were taking their child under their care and named him Hal after the name engraved within a jutting, broken slab of granite that rested next to the dead tree.

    From there, Hal grew up under the Midigan name and eldest of three sons and two daughters. Despite being different, he was quite the influence over his younger siblings, and in their teenage years they all took part in the "freedom raids" at some point. It was all from the inspiration of Hal, and it was only within his immediate family did he feel welcome.

    Despite never remembering his past, Hal doesn't have a desire to search for his true parents or learn of his blood heritage. To him, the Midigan name is his bloodline, and his only true parents are Nor and Kathan. His adventurous nature seems to stem more in his want to help others wherever he can. The farthest he's ever been has been to Muld.

    Very few outsiders came and went in his life. He was very honored to meet an orc or two, and had several run ins with Thalls, but anyone with magic did not traverse through the Northern Mountains. The most notable outsider encounter comes from Sothal Blaine, a Fallenite adventurer and procurer of artifacts. Hal had the pleasure of coming to know the man at age eight when Sothal came upon their doorstep pleading for a warm meal away from the cold. When asked what a Fallenite was doing so far North, he chuckled and shrugged saying he just felt like perusing.

    To earn his meal, the next day Sothal set out to help Nor with tasks around the land, Hal in starry-eyed tow as the Fallenite regaled his many adventures and encounters with strange beasts and magic. Nor was admittedly just as enamored with the stories, and Sothal was deemed welcome in their home for as long as he was in Baladur. It was there Hal followed Sothal on some minor adventures up the mountains and into the Mouth of the Mountain.

    But then one day Sothal left, and Hal could not follow. The man never returned, and for years Hal waited eagerly. Eventually, his waiting turned into his own bouts of adventures, leading him to join causes of great purpose in Baladur that threatened civil war. While he has moved on from his boyish daydreaming, he still feels the call to adventure and to helping the world become a better place to live.
    details

    STRENGTHS
    Compassion

    Dedication

    Survivalist



    WEAKNESSES
    Empathy

    Passionate

    Impatient
    appearance
    Thick, brown hair rests atop Hal's crown in a disheveled mess so thick he can't seem to grow it out like a Baladuri without it sticking straight up. Stubble lines his angular jaw as he flips between wanting a beard and going without. A thick brow hangs low above green eyes, the only true indication that he was not born of Baladuri blood. The other indication would be his naturally thin physique, more built athletically than in bulk with his genetics. His skin is coarse, almost feeling as if constantly chapped despite the efforts of Woodland Oils.

    His favored attire is that of the Fallenite adventurer Sothal Blaine's, who, in his travels to the Mouth of the Mountain, ended up accidentally leaving some of his clothes after disappearing one day. Hal kept the clothes for when the man would return, and when he finally grew up to fit in them he decided to wear them as his own. Soft, dark leathers comprise the ensemble not just within the heft of the coat, but in a rather fanciful vest decorated with silver and finished off with a pair of boots.
    writing sample
    Sothal's stride was far wider than Hal's through the woodland as they made their way up through a small mountain. It had been about two miles now and the young boy was starting to get winded with keeping up to the Fallenite's pace. A small chuckle escaped the adventurer's lips as a smirk crested his features with amusement evident in the boy's dedication to an unknown cause. The man's pace slowed, and Hal nearly rammed right into the man's hip before he fell back into line.

    "We'll take a little rest here," Sothal said as he nodded towards a bolder. The rock looked like it had tumbled down the mountain side long ago, the trees far younger in the wake it once gave before finding its resting place. Hal breathed a heavy sigh of relief, his arms dangling heavily in front of him in a dramatic flare. "Oh, come now, it hasn't been all that bad! The snow's all up ahead, anyway. We should unpack some of the heavier coats."

    "What are you looking for up there anyway?" Hal asked curiously as he climbed up on the large rock. His hand shielded the sun from his eyes as he looked up in the clear sky. The far snowy slope looked just as uninviting as the rest of them.

    "Seeds!" Sothal responded bombastically as he sat next to the boy. His hand rummaged through his pack to produce a thicker coat to add to his already warm ensemble.

    "Seeds?" Hal repeated curiously. "What kind of seeds? I don't think anything grows up there but evergreens." He looked back up at the peaks through the sparse canopy of naked wood and pulled out his own coat from his sack.

    "These are magic seeds," explained the adventurer. "And I'll make a pretty penny off of them. Just you wait! They're somewhere out there."

    Hal just laughed and shook his head in disbelief. The notion of finding any seeds of worth up there seemed silly, but he enjoyed Sothal's company immensely. Even if the endeavor was pointless, he wanted to go with the man on one of his adventures just to see how great it could be.






    and thissss (from monopoisoner)

    LIKES

      ▪ flora & fauna
      ▪ anime & manga
      ▪ cartoons
      ▪ dawn
      ▪ baking
    LIKES

      ▪ flora & fauna
      ▪ anime & manga
      ▪ cartoons
      ▪ dawn
      ▪ baking
     
  17. OOOOOH. Sparkly new shiny thing to learn how to do!!!

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    [​IMG]

     
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