Approved Characters

In Character

Name: Stephen Vazgoth III of Arraknanth, a Village of Cerathuar
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Class Rank: Was a noble, but now reduced to Commoner thanks to Radeios
Profession: Mortician/Physician and occasionally an Inventor; soon-to-be spy


Parents: Sylvalea of Caraklei and Stephen Vazgoth II of Arraknanth, a Village of Ceruathuar
Grandparents: King Diruco-Xanitus and Queen Berylynn of Caraklein & Stephen Vazgoth I and Gaiaezra of Arraknanth (paternal)
Siblings: Sothar (brother); Arachne (sister)
Aunts & Uncles: King Strenver Kagarkos, Queen Zoeycite, Viton, Eryl, Rothsen (maternal); Opalae, Uvirith, Arraknida, Zyrcon, Erebos, Saul, Ruturi (paternal)
Nieces & Nephews: Several
Cousins: Several, including but not limited to: Rodeias, Aryeia, Elektra, Lorilia, Belylia, Lyeito, and Rothiss
Children: None yet... though Arianna Terris is expecting. Not that Arianna would allow him to even think about playing the part of her child’s father. XD
Grandkids: It remains to be seen...




Skin color: Pale
Hair Color: Black
Hair length: Shoulder-length and often unkempt
Eye color: nearly icy, steel blue
Size:.5’11”; middling weight
Build: average... doesn’t train for combat yet isn’t a sloth

Appearance Overview: Stephen stands at a rather tall five foot eleven with a middling build and narrow shoulders. His gaunt, Vaudeville-esque face is curtained by thick and wavy long black hair. The most distinctive feature naturally occurring on his face would be his nose, which seems to have a slight downward hook to it. His eyes are an almost icy, steel blue.

He is often seen wearing breeches or trousers with a tunic and waistcoat, and buckled shoes or even boots. Black leather gloves cover his hands. Stephen’s overall appearance is well-kept with the exception of his semi-unruly hair and perhaps the strangest alteration to his visage: facial tattoos around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth.

The tattoos about his eyes began when he entered the medical/mortuary field and learned about the workings of the body. His chosen motif had been a spider, after the connotation of his village name’s etymology, and thus once his training was complete and his own practice begun, Stephen slowly acquired seven spider leg-like lines tattooed upon either cheek or forehead per eye, but still requires the eighth. Lines down the sides of his mouth are indications of a previous marriage, and are traditionally the only tattoos in such an area even if one is married multiple times.

Picture:



[Alice Cooper!]




Crushes: Arianna Terris (former; uncertain terms in his mind’s eye); anyone/thing that happens to attract his interest in such a way
Mates/Spouse: Kalypso of Caraklein (deceased, under suspicious circumstances)
Status: Practically Insane but Available




Personality: Stephen is moderately social when it suits him and rather witty of speech, not to mention passionate about the sciences. His level of patience largely depends upon his mood of the moment and is a very erratic personality, often going from patient to impatient and back again with little to no reason for such behavior. Being a mortician has altered his sense of humor to take on a dark overtone, though he’s always had this air about him. He is both selfish and very particular about how things are done, and is not overly friendly towards people he doesn’t know. In fact, if you’re not exceedingly well thought of don’t expect him to risk his neck unless there’s something in it for him... and a pretty substantial something at that! Theft from the dead doesn’t bother him one bit, though does not prey upon such trinkets for all to see. Stephen also has a mild case of necrophilia, and can often be seen having a quiet albeit one-sided conversation with a corpse when he’s working.

Aside from his duties as a mortician like his father before him, Stephen is also a physician, scientist, and has a bit of an inventive streak about him. Thus, he is naturally very curious about what makes people tick and how he can control said ticking. Manipulative tactics are certainly not beneath him. When he really wants something, Stephen will be determined to achieve or acquire whatever it may be and wouldn’t hesitate at much of anything. His mode of surreptitiousness is more of the lurking variety than that of a thug, for he is not physically endowed with great strength or advanced of musculature.

Usual Mood: Too erratic to pinpoint, but calculating



Your Story Please? Your Story Please? Stephen Vazgoth III was born to Sylvalea and Stephen Vazgoth II of Arraknanth, and was raised in the traditional village standard. The locale of said village is on the western side of the kingdom of Cerathuar, along the Mystenian border... a considerable distance from Sylvalea’s home of Caraklein. Stephen has two younger siblings: a brother named Sothar, and a sister, Arachne, and their mode of living was neither lavish nor inferior.

When he was old enough to take up a trade, Stephen III became immediately interested in his father’s trade of medical and mortuary practices. And, as such, part of his father’s culture’s customs demanded that the skin around his eyes be tattooed to show his inclusion into the mostly isolated society. Because of the village’s connection to the spider, Stephen chose his tattoo motif to be a pair of spiders around his eyes. When he was just starting out the lines down his cheeks and up his forehead looked rather odd.

To make certain her eldest son would acquire a bride befitting Sylvalea’s ideals of her son being a prince, she arranged with her husband to send the young man to Caraklein both as a way for him to get in touch with his mother’s heritage and for to be arranged to wed a bride. A favorite nephew of King Strenver, the twenty-eight-year-old man was welcomed warmly to the country and was given preferential treatment even over the King’s own eldest son and heir, Radeios. Certainly, had the ambassador named Fersen not set between Stephen and Radeios there would have been chaos, though the tension in the air was still palpable. It was also during this time that he met the princess Elektra, as well as his other cousins, for Radeios was due to be wed. However, Elektra tended to stand out in his mind above all the others.

Two years later, after quite a bit of correspondence floating between King Strenver and Sylvalea, Stephen was arranged to wed the Carakleinian noble Kalypso, who was a great deal younger than he. Stephen found it odd that Strenver forbade Radeios to marry the noblewoman yet arranged this union for him. He wasn’t even certain he liked the woman enough to marry her. But since when were such marriages of the era made from love alone? The pair had a bit of a love/hate relationship going on right up until the wedding day. As a condition of taking a Carakleinian bride, he was to live in his mother’s country yet adhere to the customs of his father’s heritage. This, of course, meant continuing his practice and acquiring new tattooed lines upon his face. Because he was now married, two additional lines – these going down either side of his jaw from the corners of his mouth – were tattooed upon his countenance.

Though Kalypso learned to love her husband, Stephen had not and was far from the model husband. His temper was already violent, but became increasingly precarious when around his bride’s annoyances. At some point during the third year of Stephen’s marriage to Kalypso, the mortician snapped and throttled the woman after refusing to give in to an argument they were having. Whatever had snapped in his mind to make him do such a thing repaired itself in a twisted fashion as he felt Kalypso gasp for breath, life slowly leaving her eyes. It was then he realized that blue looked ever so lovely upon her lips, and how strangely attracted he suddenly was to her in that moment.

Only fate was so cruel as to have the newly-crowned king, Radeios, arriving to visit the woman he’d loved but couldn’t have while Stephen was away at work. The mortician wished he could’ve seen the look on the King’s face when he first seen the cadaver. The embalming process was only in its early stages...

Stephen put on a good show as an allegedly overworked, aggrieved husband, though it wasn’t flawless. He was not surprised to hear what physicians learned of the body’s treatment: Kalypso had been strangled with cloth and a necklace, the indentations matching perfectly with the gift token Stephen always carried with him, which was from his wife; not to mention that the condition was also slightly mutilated and it appeared by bruising that there were several instances of unwanted contact or striking, with the former being the most likely. While Stephen maintained that he was a doctor and could see such things for himself, Radeios jumped to an entirely different and more sinister – and accurate – conclusion: Stephen had murdered his own wife. What’s more, Radeios had had the feeling and attempt would be made on poor Kalypso’s life before the couple's wedding vows had ever been taken.

Radeios immediately had Stephen arrested and taken to a secret trial. Because Stephen was the King’s kin was the only reason he could think of that spared him from the case being thrown wide open. Without much of a trial Radeios charged Stephen with murder and banished him from the land of Caraklein indefinitely. Yet, surprisingly, Radeios allowed Stephen to leave the territory on his own within a certain time rather than having him escorted to the borders... something that worked out amazingly well for the man.

Thus, with his possessions... and his embalmed wife cleverly stowed away... Stephen left his mother’s homeland for places unknown.


The village he settled into had some unexplainable deaths within the first year of his move. Well... some of them had been unexplained. There was even one or two the authorities never knew about, and every so often a body went missing from its casket. No one thought to suspect the eerie yet mostly-normal mortician. Despite his odd face markings and eccentric demeanor, none knew of his preoccupations and predispositions.

One evening a group of dragon slayers arrived into town with a struggling young woman. Intrigued, Stephen watched from a distance but in no way got involved until after the fight was over. He didn’t know much about her, but the head of the group of slayers did come to him with a strange request: to place a tracking spell on the woman, whom he learned was named Arianna. Stephen did so, at a price, and took unique interest in her to the point where he went out of his way to be nice and charming towards her... an unprecedented move his late wife hadn’t had the pleasure to get used to while married to him. Arianna was rather keen on no one other than herself touching the shell she wore around her neck, a token which Stephen had found interesting despite her threats if he even thought about taking it.

In exchange for medical attention to her wounds, Stephen suggested that Arianna could more or less be an errand girl for him once she had recuperated enough. Gathering medicinal herbs and medical supplies would be her duty to repay what she owed him. Eventually, she became a clerk at the local apothecary. Stephen could almost sense a bit of chemistry between them as he seen her regularly thereafter. Perhaps not a lot of chemistry to get much of anywhere, but it was something.

Stephen knew not the amount of time that had passed yet was well aware that his interest in the young woman increased over time. He even pushed his own wakefulness to its utter brink upon merely keeping tabs on where she went via the tracking spell, even when she lay sleeping. A few times, he’d even gone to her residence to watch her from a window when it was exceedingly dark outdoors. Then, one afternoon, he placed an order for her to deliver to his mortuary after her shop had closed since it would technically be on her way home...

When she arrived, Stephen insisted Arianna stay and talk for a little while. Talking soon turned into something a little more intimate. Though there was something between them it wasn’t quite enough to take it to the line Stephen wished to cross. Despite her lack of consent, the line was crossed anyway. Arianna in panic had fought against him relentlessly but to no avail until after the deed had been done. He refused to let her leave immediately afterward, hoping she would simply accept the fact what was done was done out of their mutual love for one another. In his twisted mind, Stephen considered his actions toward Arianna as a love affair for to him his wife was alive and well rather than the exact opposite.

Before the night was out, Stephen was surprised to being offered a cup of his favorite tea by Arianna. Assuming the girl was the innocent, unassuming type from his dealings with her, Stephen accepted the cup and resumed his scientific activities and insisting Arianna remain at his side. Only belatedly did he realize that she placed a potent sleeping drug or other mixture of herbs in his tea, and he passed out not long after.

Stephen awoke the next morning sore, bleeding, and disoriented on the floor of his office at the mortuary. Arianna was gone, and he immediately deduced she had either drugged or poisoned him. He hadn’t recalled being injured as he was before the tea, and thus also assumed she had beaten on him while unconscious. A nosebleed, split lip, and a few bruises seemed about the it of it. In light of the events of the night prior, Stephen decided the best thing he could do is return home for Arianna was still within the village limits: the tracking spell was still very much in effect.

Upon returning home, Stephen came face to face with several members of the authorities. They were searching his home, and quickly discovering precisely what happened to the unsolved cases upon his first year among the villagers. Not only that, but they also found the embalmed corpse of Kalypso of Caraklein, his late wife whom he’d brought with him in secret. When the highest-ranking knight declared he was under arrest for Murder, Grave-robbing, and a few other gruesome charges, Stephen assaulted him and tried to make a run for it for they had weapons but he did not have anything nearly as effective. But the attack on the knight had lost him precious time: guards soon overwhelmed him. The last two things Stephen remembers from that incident were Kalypso’s body being taken away (likely back to Caraklein eventually), and Arianna’s face set into a hateful, disgusted glare as he was carted off in irons, struggling and swearing colorfully in many different languages.

It didn’t take authorities long to bring Stephen to trial, and he was convicted of all charges brought against him. As such, the magistrate sentenced him to a life in the local prison/dungeon. However, not even a full two weeks into his lifelong sentence, Stephen instigated a brawl in an attempt to escape. Two guards were killed and six others of mixed status injured in the attempt. Thus, Stephen was moved to an insane asylum. Despite their innovation of placing the man in a straitjacket complete with chains and many other restraints, the staff still had difficulties with him to the point where none previously attacked by him would go near for even the most trivial of things.

At present, five months after the incident with Arianna, Stephen is on his way with other inmates on a kind of walk of shame from the asylum to a more capable facility in Azazel, though the local government just hopes that the lot of them (guards excluded) will freeze to death in the attempt to make the journey what with the sudden change in Azazel's climate... Little did they realize that sending Stephen to the snowy tundra of Azazel was like putting a fish back into water.

Straitjacketed and chained, Stephen vaguely wondered how Elektra would decide his fate once he arrived.



((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Doesn’t have one, though has dabbled with various useful spells as needed.

Favorite Spell: TBA, though is keenly interested in tracking spells so he can see where people go.

Weakness:
- Almost too interested in what makes people tick; curiosity gets him into various dilemmas
- Can’t tolerate exceedingly warm temperatures
- Necrophilia/Necromania
- A bit on the mentally disturbed side... if the above wasn’t already a big clue lol
- Methodical almost to the point of being anal about certain things
- Violent temper

Skills:
* Medicines and Poisons
* Embalming & related mortuary services
* Medical and surgical practices
* Charismatic
* Chemistry
* Fixing, creating, improving, and dismantling various devices
* Deception
* Stealth
* Getting under peoples' skin... metaphorically and literally XD

Items:
It should be noted that at present Stephen III is a resident of an insane asylum, though is being taken to the asylum in Azazel, and thus is not permitted any of the following items. They are, instead, at his home and workplace.
- Fine cotton garments of darker hues
- Leather buckled shoes
- Taller, leather boots
- Black (dragon) leather gloves
- small phials, often containing various dosages of medicines, in his tunic or waistcoat pockets
- Surgical equipment including drills, scalpels, etc.
- Containers upon containers of cosmetics to make the deceased more presentable during wakes.
- Scientific apparatus
- Coinpurse
- a kind of knight’s token, given to him by wife, which had likely been used in her murder... (the only thing he was allowed to have on his person)



Favorite Color: Black and/or blood red
Voice: Depends on the circumstance, but mostly a soft-spoken tone of voice when he’s in his better moods. ((lol... looks like Alice, talks like Alice. Not sure how to describe))
Theme Song: Roses on White Lace or I Love the Dead, both by Alice Cooper
Stephen’s Life CD:
> Childhood – Marriage: Years Ago by Alice Cooper

> Married to Kalypso: Only Women Bleed by Alice Cooper

> Charged With Murder and Banishment from Caraklein: Go To Hell by Alice Cooper

> Necrophilia: Cold Ethyl by Alice Cooper

> Tracking Arianna: I Know Where You Live by Alice Cooper

> Stalking/Preying Upon Arianna: Wrapped in Silk by Alice Cooper

> Sent to the Asylum: The Ballad of Dwight Fry by Alice Cooper

> (Present) Taken to Asylum in Azazel: Vengeance is Mine by Alice Cooper

> (Near Future) Return to Society: He’s Back (The Man Behind the Mask) by Alice Cooper

In Character


Name: Vémundr Eilifson
Age: 42
Gender: male
Class Rank: Chieftain/Soldier


(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents: Eilif and Melcha of Rolenma
Grandparents: Gannar and Dalla of Rolenma - Joh and Ragnhildr of Cahnaf
Siblings: 2 brothers, Vébiôrn and Vésteinn
Aunts & Uncles: Agni, Terje, Yngvi, Unni, Aun, Egil, Óttar,Yngvar, Eystein,and Yngvar
Nieces & Nephews: Vébiôrn's children: Adils, Agni, Ragnhild, Askel, Geir, Vésteinn's children: Kerr, Magne, Oddvar, (only living are listed)
Cousins: Yngvi, Joh, Gannar, Eilif, Melcha, Végestr and Eystien (only living are listed)
Children: Biôrnólfr, age 12 and Ásgerðr age 7
Grandkids: none


^Biôrnólfr



Skin color: Pale from his blood, not lack of sunlight
Hair Color: blonde
Hair length: ranging from cut short to half-way down back...
Eye color: blue
Size: 6' 5" (1.96 m)
Build: Muscular and well toned
More... Many scars cover his chest, back, legs and face, ranging from small cuts to larger arrow wounds and sword swipes. As a mark of manhood, he has a tattoo that matches his armour and shield on his biceps.
Picture:







Crushes: none
Mates/Spouse: Ásgerðr Hálfdanardóttir
Status: married




Personality:
Vémundr is a quiet man, both by choice and by profession. Both patient and alert, he is slow to anger, but quick to strike in action. A strong protector, he does not show weakness, but often gives mercy to those under his attack.
A gentle man, despite his size and rough appearance, Vémundr enjoys the company of his two children and his wife. He has many friends, but none would consider him anything less than a formidable ally.
Loyal to a fault, he keeps his word and honour to the death. Nothing is more important to him than his duty.

Usual Mood: sensibly calm with an indifferent or rigid air about him



Your Story Please?

Vémundr was raised the oldest son of his Chieftain father. The small village in which he lived was proud of its heritage and strong, defending itself against the ravages of the rival tribes and of course the cruel hand of nature. When famine struck the crops for the fifth year, he and his brothers gathered together their families and moved to Alrania, where King Wodon allowed them to live as long as they served the crown.

In his youth, Vémundr played with the other children in the snowy hills of his forefathers and within the dry streams in spring. Rain rarely fell throughout his life, a sign of true strength in his people's eyes. And while he grew, it was written for him that he would be a great chieftain. On his day of coming, he was married to Ásgerðr, daughter of Hálfdanardó.

On his thirtieth year of life, his wife gave him a living son. They had had four sons before, but none lived to breath. They named him Biôrnólfr, after the brother of a grandfather, at his naming ceremony. But a moon after Biôrnólfr's birth, Eilif died a warrior's death in battle and Vémundr became Chief of Rolenma.

Deciding enough of his people were starving due to the famine, Vémundr moved his people to Alrania, where He was promised land and honour as long as he and his tribe served in either the army or the court.

He chose to join the military and during the past ten years has served with both honour and courage.

During a scouting mission early in his service to Alrania, Vémundr accompanied General Beatrix Hematite. Cut from the main force, they were attacked in a low valley, surrounded on all sides with possible defeat at hand. Valiantly both the chieftain and the general fought back to back, saving each other from a sword's cruel edge many a time, against the enemy until at last they alone stood. Fighting closely together during the fight allowed them to befriend one another, with Vémundr respecting his commanding officer regardless of her gender. Their friendship was one that he valued most highly, as it grew and strengthened.



((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Gift of Sight (Which is basically the ability to see things exactly how they occurred)
Favorite Spell: N/A
Weakness:
Healing sword wound on his back
Missing two fingers from his left hand
Uncomfortable around nobility due to their treatment of him.
Skills:
Sword
Combat
Archery
Equitation
Flute (rarely plays)
Storytelling (few that remembers his tribes' tales)
Items:
armour (see pic above)
sword
knives
shield
amulet (around neck to ward off evil spirits)




Favorite Color: Green
Voice: Deep and gravelly with accent (norse)
Theme song: Our Destiny by Epica link

In Character


Name: Xanthus Takal’Kalevi of Caraklein
Aliases/Nicknames: Xanthus Takala, Xan (pronounced with a short ‘a’ sound... zahn)
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Class Rank: Warrior of semi-noble birth; Royal/Courtly Bodyguard
Note: His fair hair marks him as having divine favor by his people



Parents: [Unknown Biological Father] and Zenovya Takala, of a village in the outskirts of Caraklein; Samout (Step-father) of the same village in Caraklein as Zenovya
Grandparents: Unknown
Siblings: Half-brothers: Arvo, Ylmari, and Jukka; Half sisters: Pinja and Tarja
Aunts & Uncles: Unknown
Nieces & Nephews: Arvo II, Lydia, Zinovia [Arvo]; Tuomas, Ylmari II, Aatos [Ylmari]; Jukka II, Akseli [Jukka]; Ensio, Annukka [Pinja]; Kaarina [Tarja]
Cousins: Unknown
Children: None yet
Grandkids: None yet




Skin color: unnaturally pale, with exception to the skin around his eyes and lips, which appears purplish-black
Hair Color: Pale Blonde to nearly white (platinum blonde)... quite unnatural for a Carakleinian
Hair length: approximately chest-length
Eye color: Pale blue-green
Size: 5’ 8.5”
Build: Lean but muscular
Picture:








Xan's Biological Mother and Stepfather
(both with entirely black hair, though)

Xan's Biological Father



Crushes: Duchess/Princess/Sorceress Elektra
Mates/Spouse: None
Status: Headed to propose to Elektra (Won’t succeed, so he’s technically Available)




Personality: Xanthus is generally a soft-spoken individual, waiting to see how the other acts before making his move. Growing up on the outskirts of Caraklein in a village of honor-driven warrior/hunters that guarded the lands from foreign invasion instilled in him a great deal of patience and a tendency to bide his time before striking. He does not allow the fact that because he was born fair-haired and thus considered a demi-god by some of his people to swell his ego, sticking to the notion that even Gods can fall from their lofty positions through overconfidence. Courtesy fills most of his movements, whether it was sincere or otherwise.

Yet, for all of his self-proclaimed humility, Xanthus has an ambitious streak and a thirst to prove himself and thus a desire to acquire power. This thirst and ambition like many aspects of his personality are often kept hidden behind a metaphorical mask of neutrality, though admittedly it’s not as perfected as some. Xan has a better mask of neutrality towards pain than anything else, for it is not becoming to display one’s weaknesses to one’s enemy. As per this ideal, he is also not that fond of asking for or accepting assistance at the worst of times... e.g. when he could really use it. It’s a pride thing.

He takes his skills in the warrior’s trade very seriously, and can be seen practicing indoors, outdoors, or in some medium of both for quite a few hours of his days. Sometimes the training is with others, but most of the time it is by himself. With a fondness for the cold weather, Xanthus tends to enjoy sitting out in the snow to meditate, or anywhere up in the air so long as he knows he won’t fall from his perch. To him, killing is generally more a necessity than a joy but there are exceptions. He does not always thrill in it, yet nor does he constantly mourn those dispatched at his hand.

Xanthus does not trouble himself or others with meaningless talk, therefore if he has something to say he will say it and likely not mince words. He will fight for what – and whom – he believes in, even if it might cost him his life in the end. To have Xan’s true loyalty is to have a priceless treasure in one’s possession: once lost, it is very difficult if not impossible to re-acquire. It is very similar to having his love, while he might not always show it. His actions for both are generally subtle and slightly aloof.

When angered, one can expect to see him attempting to reign in his emotions: usually the quieter he gets the worse things are. One does not want to be near when this bottled-up frustration finally explodes, for such a sight is not pretty. An occasional loss of patience is not uncommon, particularly under stress. Xan accepts advice and criticisms best when he is in a neutral or pleasant mood.

It should be well-noted as well that despite his general air of seriousness and dedication to his trade, Xanthus does know how to have fun. His sense of humor is decently formed. Flirtation, while not inherently common in his activities, is always reciprocated. Pranks are welcomed sources of entertainment when guard duty becomes monotonous, even in the off chance he is the one getting pranked.

Usual Mood: Proud and respectful, not to mention a bit brooding. Serious... though good humor lies beneath the surface.




Your Story Please?

Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the dee~p and carry you down into sleep...

Xanthus Takala was born on the coldest day his village within Caraklein had yet to see, to a lower-class woman named Zenovya. She was a huntress that provided food for the village while the men kept a watch on the borderlands, making sure no unwelcome visitors broke through their defenses. Their way of life was far-removed from that of those living in the capitol or more urban areas. Young Xanthus’s birth happened to be a very special one for his village. While most Carakleinians were born with black hair, Xanthus’s locks were as pale as the snow, if not a golden yellow. It was a holy omen for his people... and, to some, proclaimed the arrival of a demi-god to their village.

Thus his last name was changed to Takal’Kalevi, Takala, the Chosen.

Only Zenovya knew who his biological father was, and she never seemed willing to mention him. What she was willing to discuss was that she had been married to him, and that the man had left upon learning his wife was pregnant and hadn’t returned. She molded Xan’s beliefs about the man, though they were not all lies. By accounts, Xanthus’s father was dubbed a thief even though he served in the Carakleinian military as a spy. Though there was a considerable amount of grief in Xan’s heart that his father had abandoned his mother, there was one speck of light to the tale: how Zenovya had met, fallen in love with, and married Samout shortly thereafter. ‘Zam’ – Samout’s nickname of preference – was a good father figure, providing attention and guidance as well as brothers and sisters.

Xanthus has a fairly good childhood, though tended to take the everyday rather seriously unless there was an occasion for frivolity. The lifestyle of keeping watch over the border instilled into him a great deal of patience and a tendency to bide his time before striking in any sense of the metaphor. And, as a child, he did have a slight bratty complex that came with the way people acted around and revered him for the fact his hair coloring was different.

At the age of six, Zenovya gave to Xanthus a special medallion with twelve precious gems inlaid in a decorative pattern in its center. She did not have much information as to where the medallion had come from other than ancestors within her family, and emphasized his duty to not lose the heirloom. It was shortly thereafter that he learned even gods can fall from their lofty heights through overconfidence, having fallen at a great height from a tree. For many of the cuts he received in the fall, physicians treated with wormwood. No one had yet known of his allergy at the time, but they soon learned. Despite all medical treatment, only time had the best result.

Since then Xanthus has stuck to this philosophy of not letting others’ beliefs swell one’s ego, for overconfidence led to an early demise.

For his wisdom and seemingly gods-given gift in wielding weaponry, the Chieftain of the village allowed Xanthus to begin assisting daytime sentinel shifts. It was around this time that he began collecting small daggers from the corpses of defeated foes. The last one was taken a week before his fifteenth birthday... the day when a child undergoes a Rite of Passage involving a six-month-long period of self-survival: meditation, training, and acquiring one’s basic needs. While participating in his rite of passage, Xan tended to build snow mounds in an attempt to both maintain temperature and keep the sun from doing harm to his skin whilst resting.

However, while on his mission to undergo this needed isolation, the village Chieftain saw fit to have skilled assassins mildly poison Xanthus using darts dipped in a solution of hemlock and wormwood. It didn’t take long before the young man became terribly ill. Without a way to contact his village’s physician and not knowing much about medicine to begin with, Xanthus’s only other option was to wait it out and fight the sickness tooth and nail. And fight he did, leading to an eventual albeit slow recovery. Upon his return home, the village celebrated and applauded with thrice as much fanfare than any other had received that year. It was then he was told how he became deathly ill and why. Despite the necessity for the trial, Xan immediately refused to trust his chieftain from that day forward.

This distrust of the chieftain only grew as the previously good-natured man changed. Or perhaps it was Xanthus who had changed, enlightened by his bout with illness out in the frozen wood and opened his eyes to the truth. Just shy of two years later, Xan slew the chieftain now heavily corrupted by a disturbing force. His village had a strict policy of leadership qualifications: firstly, that the person that killed the current ruler could step up in their stead and proclaim themselves the Village Headman. Another route was to give the weapon used to slay said former chieftain to the person one thought would best fir the role. Thus, the new Village Chieftain became Samout, Xanthus’s step-father.

It didn’t take long for the young man to realize that he’d made new friends – and new enemies – by killing the former chieftain. The revelation came particularly clear when he was ganged up on by several of the latter variety upon a popular cliff diving spot, and had no choice but to kill or be killed. This was the third of nine trials he knew he had completed, and thus, after recovering from the battle, Xanthus traveled to Chreanios Monastery alone.

Entry into the Monastery was somewhat awkward for Xanthus, for immediately they recognized his fair hair as the typical feature of one blessed with gifts from the Gods. The monks were kind and sociable, for monks anyway, and allowed him to partake in their daily routine whilst he was visiting the Monastery. Extra care had been taken to make his chambers as lavish as possible, to which he’d expressed with great thanks that it was unnecessary but welcome. When he told the monks of the Nine Trials, something they already knew about, and that he had completed a third of them already, they immediately set to work on translating the original text for him. However, the translations take some time to perfect.

To make up for the time it took to translate the texts, the monks offered that he be included into their Order. He would receive meals with them, and any other amenities he so desired. Xan, having only just arrived, accepted it without much complaint. To honor his coming to them, one of the monks whom he’d befriended offered him his own gray cloak, despite it being a bit worn in spots. Xanthus, no stranger to clothing in need of some mending after a daylong trek through brush and brambles, replaced his former green cloak with this one.

In an attempt to repay the monks for their kindness, Xan offered to do anything around the monastery they requested of him when he wasn’t trying to improve his skills further, even though at this young age he surpassed many a Carakleinian veteran. Thus they sent him to investigate a few reports of hauntings about the grounds. Other days he was asked to acquire food items from various places about the monastery’s estate, or to even sit in on the translating process and help out however he could. Sometimes this included writing down what the translators said that he understood, attempting to translate some of the texts himself, and similar duties.

Within two weeks of his stay, Xanthus was rewarded with a copy of the Nine Trials scroll even though most of them remained un-translated, and a lead for the fourth trial. (See Fourth Trial in Other Information for background) It was during his time in the Hidden Labyrinth that he acquired the sabers Aamu and Estel, as well as the legendary Spear of Athanas. The spear was truly an item only one blessed with exceptional talents could ever hope to possess, for it was to be wrested from the hands of a long-dead warrior that did not rest in peace.

As translation progressed, further revisions were given to him, in addition to priestly acknowledgment that the trials that were known and surpassed were approved by the monastery’s clergy. For five years he remained with the monks, until he heard of a competition being held in the capitol city. A competition needing skilled fighters. Xan gained approval from the monks for a temporary leave, and promised to return afterward.

The competition was against both man and beast, and Xan defeated all that stood against him. Not every battle was at all easy, despite his giftedness in the field of combat. In addition to the cash prize, Xan was also given a red silken sash from someone in the audience, though he knew not who it was that had thrown it into the ring. However, there was someone in the audience he recognized, though he’d never seen him before...


To say Xan became angry was an understatement. He didn’t know which woman his father had married first, but it seemed rather clear something wasn’t quite right with the whole scheme of things upon seeing a young man slightly older than him with them. Not many days after the competition Xanthus began to gather information on and tracked down where his biological father was living; then paid the family a visit. As it turned out, Xan apparently had a step-mother and at least three half-siblings he never knew about, nor would have known about had he not delved into such things. With little to no consideration for his father’s wife and children – the youngest two of the three having fled to another room – Xanthus immediately exposed his father’s treachery both in regards to the second marriage to his biological mother, and in the court.

It was about the point where Xanthus began mentioning what he knew about his father spying on Carakleinian bigwigs (such as the man’s in-laws) that caused the older man to attack Xanthus. Without even knowing his biological father’s name, Xanthus slew the man his heart had on some level always searched for, but never found. With his “step mother” and half-brother there as witnesses, and seeing it was clearly self-defense, there was no possible way for them to press charges against him for murder. Add to the fact that they too held onto the belief that Xan was a demi-god. They merely prayed that the reason for the man’s slaying had happened for a reason.

As promised, Xanthus returned to the Monastery to continue his quest for completing the Nine Trials. By the time he arrived, the Fifth Trial was translated. The Gift of Clairvoyance it was called, and dictated that a couple of days in deep meditation were required in order to discern the true meaning of what one was supposed to learn in the trial. Thus, Xanthus took to the ancient Monastery crypts. Not only was there the hauntings – which had increased in severity and quantity in his absence – but afterward he could meditate down there undisturbed.

Many undead in the way of ghosts, zombie-like corpses, and the occasional vampire-like beings lurked in the crypts, amassing an army to overthrow all those living in the space above. While magic was not Xanthus’s specialty, he fought through the hoards admirably. The ghosts were the most difficult to dispel, for they could not be wounded in the usual way. Yet... not all the ghosts sought to harm, which Xan found rather confusing. The only way he managed to subdue to the more violent ghosts was to reveal his medallion. It was like showing a vampire the crucifix.

Amidst prowling ghosts of less than amicable nature, Xanthus meditated. His medallion was kept in constant view so that he was protected from threats whilst his eyes were closed. Every so often a ghost would approach to ask a favor, usually to deliver a message to a loved one. While the interruptions from his meditation were irksome, he complied. What if the verse ‘The voices beneath have called unto thee’ meant he needed to listen to these ghosts? And then... something rather unexpected happened whilst Xan was meditating.


Shocked out of his meditative state, Xanthus spoke with his mother at great length. He learned she had died at around the same time he had killed his biological father, learning that their marriage had bound her soul and fate to the man even when the legality of the issue had long since passed into oblivion. Guilt overwhelmed the Carakleinian demi-god, for had he known he wouldn’t have slain the man. Yet, in that moment, Zenovya explained unto him some crucial information she hadn’t shared in all his years: the medallion he wore, inlaid with twelve gems, was a focus for the Gift of Clairvoyance, what she’d already known was the Fifth Trial. Talking with her as he was now was proof that he had succeeded in the task.

She further explained that the medallion can hold souls slain by the Spear of Athanas, showing him how to use the medallion to summon the soul of his father, and by extension Zenovya herself. Xanthus held no interest in keeping his father’s spirit close by, but was the only way to keep Zenovya with him. Those kept within the medallion’s gems would speak to him when the time came, but could not for long be kept cooped up in the artifact for ages unless they were an ancestor spirit having returned to guide the wearer voluntarily. Realization clicked when Xanthus began explaining one particular incident during his rite of passage: when he had been stricken with illness, the then-teenager had had visions and heard the voice of an old man, one who had seemed so familiar yet strange at the same time. Zenovya explained that this other spirit was Akakios Takala, Xan’s fifth-great grandfather.

With the help of the three spirits within his medallion Xanthus dispelled the hostile ghosts in the crypts with a spectral spear, an extension of the Spear of Athanas that he had not known existed and could not have more or less conjured without them. Akakios assured Xanthus that it was unlikely that he would face hoards of undead foes, but if need ever came to use the spectral aspect of the spear again that he would train the young man of twenty-five years in its use and summoning, but nothing more of magic for, in Akakios’s own words, “that path is not thine to follow”.

Upon returning to the surface, Xanthus once again stated he must leave the Monastery to the abbot. An understanding was reached, and he was once again allowed leave. However, the abbot assumed it was because Xan’s meditations had told him of the correspondence he’d received from the capitol. Xanthus made his rounds to all of the families of departed loved ones that sought him out in the crypts, delivering their various messages: both good, and bad... and brought a few individuals to a sense of justice. At the end of the week, Xan would return home before making the trek to the capitol, and explain that his meditation had taken longer than anticipated. Enlightenment did not work on the same timeframe as life.

It was a joyous reunion. Xanthus learned that Samout still lived, but allowed his eldest son Arvo to lead the village now that he had become a more than capable man, and had family of his own to provide for. Around a campfire, Xan told his stepfather, half-siblings, and now nieces and nephews of his exploits since leaving them eight years previously. Then he showed them the Royal Letter he’d received from the capitol, which he had yet to open. Several times had he been there to compete in the annual tournament, and several times had he succeeded. He had also been asked to join the Carakleinian Royal Army, to which Xanthus respectfully declined each time. He would allow himself to be under employ of the Army, but not within any specific unit.

Yet the letter, upon reading it aloud to his family, had a very different proposition: despite his humble upbringing and now semi-noble status, he was to report to the castle as a possible suitor for the Duchess (formerly Princess) Elektra, who was recently widowed. Xanthus remembered seeing Elektra during one of his stays in the capitol, distinctly recalling being captivated by her beauty. Samout and Xan’s half-brothers all encouraged he leave the village post-haste to the castle, for such an offer is only extended once per lifetime whether one is a demi-god or not.

The trip to Lyealia Palace was long and somewhat eventful, what with the occasional Carakleinian bandit attempting to accost him and two of his half-brothers: Ylmari and Jukka. Upon his arrival, Xanthus was officially given the rank of lower-realm nobility – making him eligible to be wed to Elektra – just as his biological father had been. Of all the suitors King Radeios had selected for Elektra, the King ordered Xanthus to go forth first to try his hand. While Xan was fairly certain it was his status as demi-god that likely bumped him to first on the list, he didn’t complain. There would be status in marrying the princess/duchess, and therefore power. But yet, on the flipside, Xanthus also held strong emotions even just thinking about the woman.

Xanthus and his half-brothers, along with convoy bearing an exquisite gift for Elektra, departed from the palace. Though, Xan and his brothers easily made much more time than the convoy, thus rode on despite them and their guard back to the village, though went their separate ways well before reaching village limits. His brothers would return to the village, while Xanthus made for the Alranian settlement of Atticus, now called Azazel. The gods only knew where the convoy was, though Xan was certain they were at least a week behind.

At present, Xanthus has arrived in the village of Carpatus.




((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: While Xanthus wields magical items, and has a slight ability in Clairvoyance due to one of said items, he has no magical specialties whatsoever.
Favorite Spell: N/A

Weakness:
- Being out in warm temperatures for too long makes him ill for anywhere between hours to days
- Bright light, as it causes rather nasty sunburns and hurts his eyes; really bright light can blind him for a time
- Allergic to wormwood, two of its uses being an antiseptic and to spice mead
- Claustrophobic
- Pride – won’t admit to being hurt or needing help even at his own risk
- Archery... uses throwing spears when applicable to offset this.
- Is not at all skilled in the magical arts, making battles with anyone that knows magic a bit more challenging.

Skills:
- Physically Strong despite lean appearance
- Can perform acrobatic feats due to exceptional agility
- Proficient in wielding a spear and dual sabres
- Survival in the outdoors, even in subzero temperatures (ethnic condition allows the latter)
- Can see quite well in the dark without the need for a torch
- Meditative techniques
- Games of strategy
- Strong work ethic in his trade as a warrior
- Uses resources and is able to adapt easily
- Limited medicine
- Can train others in combat

Items:
+ Garments of varying quality cotton
+ Sturdy leather armor & boots
+ Fine red silken sash (token of favor from someone in the audience at a competition within the capitol of Caraklein)
+ Monk’s Cloak, gray of color and a bit careworn
+ Scroll indicating the Nine Trials; a list of things a proclaimed demi-god must accomplish in his lifetime according to those of power within the Chreanios Monastery.
+ A medallion his mother gave him when he was a boy. It is learned that the medallion allows any slain by the spear Athanas to be bound into one of the twelve gems at the wielder's command. The medallion gives Xanthus a slight sense of Clairvoyance.
+ Coinpurse, as well as other pouches for supplies
+ Canteen in the shape of a gourd, typically for water
+ Twin sabres, named Aamu & Estel; acquired them in a tomb on a quest during one of the Nine Trials, though they are not recognized symbols of status. Both swords are kept at his hips unless in use.
+ A legendary spear given the name of Athanas, said to only be acquired by any with divine favor that were worthy of wielding it. It is often strapped to his back if not in his hands. The spear can magically retract and expand its height at the user's whim.
+ A small collection of easily-concealable daggers, collected by threats attempting to breach the Carakleinian border.




Favorite Color: Black
Voice: Smoothly soft-spoken. Makes one think of a cascade of fine silk
Theme song: Mordred’s Lullaby by Heather Dale
Hand of Sorrow by Within Temptation
Night Fight, a track from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon


The Nine Trials
+ First Trial: Humble Beginnings
Upon the sunset of the coldest day yet this year has blessed
A Golden-Haired Child to a single parent shall be born

Explanation: Blonde-haired child born on a specific day to a single parent
Status: Complete


++ Second Trial: Gift of Longevity
The Gift of Longevity shall be only his,
If he doth surviveth alone against Death’s fatal kiss.

Explanation: If the youth taking the trials can survive a deadly illness and/or poisoning deliberately without medical attention, he will receive the gift of long life.
Status: Complete


+++ Third Trial: Strength
For wolves howling below and snow doves above in flight
The Blessed shall prove an army no match for his God-gifted might

Explanation: At the location specified by the fauna, which is perhaps a kind of cliff, the trial-taker must fight an army or other great number of foes single-handedly and be victorious. It must be in a kill or be killed context.
Status: Complete


++++ Fourth Trial: Spear of Athanas
Within the Hidden Labyrinth doth Old Athanas reign.
Be the Prophesized’s duty to repeat history again.

Explanation: The Hidden Labyrinth is located only by speaking with a Wise Woman or Shaman-type figure for a riddle as to where the place is. There are many obstacles between finding where the Labyrinth’s entryway is and meeting “Old Athanas” who happens to be a kind of vampire of sorts confined within the Labyrinth with other undead. A confrontation both in speech and in combat between a deity or demi-god and Athanas must take place, thus repeating historical legend.
Status: Complete


+++++ Fifth Trial: Gift of Clairvoyance
The voices beneath have called unto thee
Discovery of the artifact shall become an invaluable key

Explanation: A couple days of meditation led to the discovery that the medallion’s strange aura is the source of the Gift of Clairvoyance. Those slain with the Spear of Athanas may have their souls trapped within a gem in his medallion, though not all of them are. There are 12 gems on said medallion. One holds the spirit of his biological father, another contains his mother though she was not directly slain by him, and a third an ancestor of whom Xanthus is unfamiliar with. Souls can be freed from the medallion with a thought.
Status: Complete


++++++ Sixth Trial: [In Translation]
[Soon To Be Translated]

Meanings Pertaining to the Trial: [Unknown]
Status: Incomplete


+++++++ Seventh Trial: [Not Yet Translated]
[To Be Translated]

Meanings Pertaining to the Trial: [Unknown]
Status: Incomplete


++++++++ Eighth Trial: [Not Yet Translated]
[To Be Translated]

Meanings Pertaining to the Trial: [Unknown]
Status: Incomplete


+++++++++ Ninth Trial: [Not Yet Translated]
[To Be Translated]

Meanings Pertaining to the Trial: [Unknown]
Status: Incomplete

Name: Countess Aemilia of Devon
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Class Rank: Countess
Note: (although by blood a princess)



Parents: (blood) King Wodon of Alrania and Countess Portia of Devon
(Step) Count Argyle of Devon (Portia's husband)
Grandparents: Elric II and Aderyn of Alrania and Gregory and Pauline of Alrania (Count)
Siblings: (half) Oberon, Theseus, Jaclyn and William
Aunts & Uncles: Elchanan, Alexander, Rose, Oberon and Stavana
Nieces & Nephews: Gareth, Cara, Liam and Portia, John and Fredrick
Cousins: N/A
Children: none
Grandkids: none



Skin color: white although healthily so
Hair Color: dark blonde
Hair length: waist
Eye color: blue
Size: 5' 4¼" (1.63 m)
Build: small
Picture: (playby- Scarlet Johanson)








Crushes: none
Mates/Spouse: none
Status: available




Personality:
Aemilia is a bright and cheerful young woman who delights in life and the living of it. She is careful to always come across as her position demands; her training to someday be a nobleman's perfect wife her second most important desire in her life. Her chief desire in life is to make the most of it. She adores nature and the summer air, riding her horse until the light fades into the darkness of night. Although reserved due to her duties as a Count's daughter, Aemilia has a wild impatient streak that often nearly causes her trouble. Alone or with only a few of her friends or maids, she is witty and enjoys gossip mixed with long conversations. Mischievous and an impossibly flirt, she delights in teasing members of her father's castle nearly mad with her untouchable position far above them.
Her father, the Count, considered her his favourite child, due to her intelligence which her siblings lack. Despite this, he was a very strict man and allowed nothing but forced piety and temperance with his family. Thus Aemilia was often his most rebellious child as well as his favourite.
While her mother is a caring and motherly figure, Aemilia dislikes her for her known infidelity. It is kept only from the Count that his beloved wife keeps many lovers and is faithful only in keeping them secret. Due to her love for her father, Aemilia hates her mother for not being satisfied with the polite affections of the Count.


Usual Mood: Happy and pleasant unless in a court setting with her father, in which she is much more reserved. Without her father's presence... she can become slightly wild.



Your Story Please?
Unknown to her, Aemilia was born illegitimate to King Wodon of Alrania and her unfaithful mother, Countess Portia. Although her mother kept this fact a secret, it was well-known throughout Devon that one of the three Count's children was not his.
Raised in a tightly kept court with tutors, instructors and constant guards, Aemilia lived a very sheltered life. Her education was exquisite, preparing her to assist her future husband in politics or matters of court. Art, literature, history, politics, warfare, equitation, science, languages, speech, religion, herbology and magic were all taught to her from a young age and she excelled to the delight of her father and teachers.

Although she was a woman and a noble one, her father thought it proper to have her instructed in the arts of war, teaching the use of a blade to her himself.
She was promised several times to all upstanding men, but the matches fell through for various reasons.

One day, while riding with her favourite instructor, Lord Caven, it was revealed to her that she not her brother, as it was popularly thought, was the illegitimate child. Devastated by this fact, she went from disliking her mother to hating her, beginning to ignore her presence and existence. She was also told who her true father was, the then deceased King Wodon of Alrania. Since the man was dead and she deeply loved her mother's husband, Aemilia thanked god and continued to view the Count as her father.

Tragedy struck on her 17th birthday, as her father died of consumption. With little to hold her within Devon, Aemilia began to arrange for her departure to the castle of her married sister. Her mother, however planned a marriage for her, to a man known for his lack of morals and his infidelity to his first wife now dead.
Disgusted with the very idea of marrying a man that would never love or respect her, Aemilia fled to Alrania, hoping that just maybe her half-brother, King Oberon would take pity on her and allow her to stay safely within his court.

She found it the best idea, due to her siblings all agreeing with her mother and her friends' being powerless to assist her. News from Alrania was that the Dowager Queen, her true father's wife had died, and therefore she thought that her appearance would not truly grieve anyone.



((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Earth elemental
Favorite Spell: none
Weakness:
Over cautious
Easily angered/frightened
Skills:
Equitation
Gardening (mainly flowers)
Sword fighting
Singing
Plays a lute
Items:
Her father's pearl ring
A jeweled dagger (hidden in her bodice)
Her sword (not usually carried with her)
A favour given to King Wodon by her mother and then given back (black handkerchief)
A letter given to her mother from King Wodon with his seal
A small portrait of her father (the count)



Favorite Color: Yellow
Voice: Sweet with soft qualities
Theme song: Holding Out For a Hero by Bonnie Tyler

Name: Hilda Zbornack
Age: 35
Gender: Female
Class Rank: Princess



(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents: Betelgeuse and Emera Zbornnack of Oeilvert
Grandparents: Helmfried and Hedda Zbornnack of Oeilvert (paternal) / Horst and Ingeborg of Devon
Siblings: Henry, Rafer, Gerhard, Duer, Carsten, Brynner,Adelle, Arlo and Isolde
Aunts & Uncles: Arvin, Harmon, Loman, Kaiser, Helmfried, Lise, Karla, Kaethe, Fritzi, and Gerlinde
Nieces & Nephews: Hedwig, Waldemar, Seifer, Rosine, Strom,Hugh, Gretel, Irma
Cousins: Jaegar, Jessen, Gunter, Harmon, Mandell, Hohan, Karl, Kaethe, Meta, Ludwig, Kyler, Bruno, Gernt
Children: none
Grandkids: none



Skin color: white, rather pale due to her lack of sunlight
Hair Color: Black
Hair length: Waist Length
Eye color:
Size: 5' 6" (1.68 m)
Build: voluptuous
Picture:










Crushes: several...
Mates/Spouse: Theseus, King Oberon's brother
Status: unhappily married




Personality:
Hilda is fairly self-centred having grown up thinking the world revolved around her. Obsessive, compulsive and excessive are all good words to define her personality. Although extremely difficult, Hilda does consider herself to be fairly reasonable, and often "sacrifices " what she wants to do in order to try to please those she loves. Unfortunately her overzealous loyalty and love is often only viewed as obsessive and controlling.

With her husband, whom she refers to as "HIM"... She has no patience and is often reduced to hysterical fits with tears, throwing things and etc. Hilda finds his womanizing very annoying and often tells him as much often.


Usual Mood:
Unhappy about something her husband has done, will do or is currently doing.



Your Story Please? Born the eldest daughter, but the third child of King Betelgeuse and Emera Zbornnack of Oeilvert, Hilda was raised between the desert palace of Almeor and the only slightly further north palace at Beetaven. Her childhood was a rapturous delight of her schooling infused with her every desire, which her parents were all to happy to provide her with. As the eldest daughter, she was always given the best of anything that she may have had to share with her younger sisters and was doted and petted by her brothers, all of whom adored her.

Her thoughts on marriage had always been happy as she anticipated the delight of sharing a man's life with him and raising her children as her parents had raised her and her siblings. However, life did not turn out so black and white for the selfish princess.

The marriage to Theseus of Alrania only left her feeling angry and worthless every moment of their union. Her principles of unity and love were seemingly complete opposite of her husband and they quarreled constantly. Despite their love fading into a just barely tolerant state, Hilda lives quite happily in the palace... that is until a strand of gossip reaching her sharp ears about Theseus and a lovely young woman other than herself. At that point hell hath no fury as Hilda scorned.




((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: N/A
Favorite Spell: N/A
Weakness:
Stubborn
Easily angered
Overly affectionate/loyal
Skills:
Excellent memory
Exceptional hearing
Wit but sharply so
Archery (rarely done)
Needlepoint
Dancing (a favourite activity)
Plays several instruments including the lute, lyre and harpsichord
Items:
Handkerchief for her crying fits
Mirror
Small dagger for protection
Wrist pouch for necessities



Favorite Color: Maroon
Voice: Shrill with sharp edges and higher pitches
Theme song:Call Me When Your Sober by Evanescence

Names:
Male: Zulimar
Female: Varvara
Both: Panthea
Age: 46
Gender: female/male (can shift between two distinct people)
Class Rank: Banished
Species: Corgon


(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents: Unknown (Corgon do not raise their children)
Grandparents: Unknown (same as above)
Siblings: Unknown
Aunts & Uncles: All Corgon older are considered aunts and uncles
Nieces & Nephews: Unknown
Cousins: All Corgon younger than her are considered cousins
Children: Unknown
Grandkids: none



FIRST APPEARANCE

Skin color: brown
Hair Color: black
Hair length: centre of her back
Eye color: black
Size: 6 feet (1.8 meters)
Build: slender but strong
Picture: -Note always appears wet



SECOND APPEARANCE

Skin color: White
Hair Color: Brown
Hair length: shoulder
Eye color: black
Size: 6 feet (1.8 meters)
Build: thin but muscular
Picture:- Note always appears wet



Also- Panthea may appear half man half woman or just one or the other

Note on their species
~Corgons possess keener eye sight than humans, as well as keener hearing
~They have increased stamina and greater agility
~Needless to say they can breath in water and on land
~Their skin excretes a slimy coating every three to four hours to keep their skin from drying out
~They always appear soaked due to the excretion
~In water, they appear green/blue rather than normal coloured
~The Corgon language is made up of high pitches rather than words



Crushes: none
Mates/Spouse: none
Status: unavailable for obvious reasons




Personality:

Varvara is impatient, pushy and violently tempered, with a deep lust for blood and conflict. She delights in action of any sort and is easily seduced by the promise of said action. Her sword will be sold for little more than a promise to kill and she is easily entertained by said desire. Although blood-thirsty, she does exhibit occasional peaceful moments, whenever Zulimar forces her to bend to his will and become calm. She obeys her other part, but is dominant as well, situation and time often choosing which action she will take rather than his reasoning.

Zulimar is violently tempered as well, but more reservedly so. He is a firm believer in self-control and patience to get what he wants. Firm in his actions and thoughts, he is a hard person to sway. Stubborn, patient and yet violent, he is the more controlling of the two parts, often keeping Varvara silent and still in order to keep them from destruction. Despite his restraint, he had a passionate nature as well and often becomes lost in a desire for vengeance or simple blood spilling. He is bent under the female in more complex scenarios of battle, when her desire for speedy action is more logical than his patient nature.

Both are fairly anti-social, with a bare tolerance for humans, due to their need to have customers.

Usual Mood: Both are fairly peaceful, unless angered.



Your Story Please?

It is said that the gods created man to rule over the earth and bring all beasts and forces under their power. But that the gods created the Corgon to rule the deep depths of the oceans and seas.

Living deep within the lightless waters of the ocean, the Corgon built a thriving society, very similar to the men that walked on the land. They built cities and strong empires, battling the sea creatures for dominancy and land. Ruled by the iron firm hand of Pax, their ageless Emperor, the Corgon became the silent unknown rulers of the sea.

The Corgon continue life differently than their land cousins, for they do not find bonding a pleasant or necessary part of life. Instead during the festival of continuation, all males and females of age place a single pearl from their lips into the great sea shells hidden deep within the sand. After five years of slow development, the young Corgon break free from the shells and dig their way to the water above the sand. Many die in the process, but only the strong Corgon can survive the journey. Since there is no record of who laid the pearl and the adult Corgon care very little for the young, they are organized into schools and a single older Corgon teaches them until they chose to join the adults about them.

Individuality is the most prized thought among the Corgon, with each person making his own life aims, goals, rules and morals. However there is one law all Corgon adhere to. A royal decree from the Emperor is obeyed without question; with banishment the only possible punishment.

Varvara was born deep within a snow white shell. But the small female Corgon was too weak to break out of her shell and rise to the water, and she laid within her watery grave afraid of her weakness. The Emperor Pax heard the young child's cries, despite how deeply she was buried, and prayed to the gods to assist her. Their help was unusual, but helpful nonetheless. Instead of perhaps lifting her shell or breaking it open, they pushed another shell containing another weak Corgon, Zulimar, a male, to be joined with hers. Unable to still leave their shells, the two younglings fell back into their growing sleep and became one as they grew.

Five more years after their second sleeping, they awoke to find that they had changed from two separate beings to one being with two minds. With their combined strength they broke through the shell and with ease swam to the water. Met with awe and wonder, they became a champion among their people, hailed as a Child of the Gods, named Panthea and lifted as the saviour of their people.

Quickly they lost the desire to be revered and after a brief time spent learning, they left the cities of their people to be alone. Deep within the sea, they went where others had never before ventured, slaying beasts none before had imagined, until they heard the great sea trumpet calling all Corgon to come to the feast of continuation by Royal Decree. They knew that a pearl laid by them would result in another being such as themselves and although they were happy together, they did not wish it to happen to others.

For ignoring the decree, Zulimar Varvara Panthea was banished from their watery home. The gods had planned for their banishment, for they desired the Corgon to see the land as well as the water, and they lifted Panthea onto the land, giving them the ability to morph between their two bodies, rather than being half one and half the other.

Free now from both their people and the gods, Panthea went out into the lands and ravaged the men and beasts found within the forests and mountains. Unfamiliar with fear, due to their ignorance of it, they were undefeatable and soon were feared by those who lived in the area. Finally, the peasants rose up against Panthea and drove them from out until they were far from where the gods had placed them.

Forced to wander, Panthea soon found themselves in the peaceful country of Alrania. Since they did not desire to be banished a third time, they dealt with the peasants with a far more gentle hand than they had priorly and they were able to live in peace. They set up a shop with the wonders of the sea to sell to the poor and rich alike. Still in the dark of the night, many a cloaked figure has entered,



Weakness:
They often fight with each other
Blood lust
Fearless
Indecision
Overly passionate
Skills:
Fighting
Swimming
Combat
Healing
Cooking
Running
Items:
Conch shell horn
Coral sword
Several shell necklaces (all possessing live sea creatures)
First pouch: sand for occasional washing of hands
Second pouch: money
Third pouch: Dust of Anhol, (heals their cuts and bruises)



Favorite Color: Ocean Blue
Voice:
When speaking together their voice is as a woman and man's flowing in an eerie mixture
Varvara has an airy voice that hisses more than speaks
Zulimar has a deeper voice with more gravely tones
Theme song: White Waters by Epica

Name: Ichabod Payne
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Profession: Inventor... albeit with limited funds



Parents: Richard and Sarah Payne
Grandparents: Unknown
Siblings: None
Aunts & Uncles: Wallace, Owen, Bernard, Helen, Ruth; Ivonne, Adelaide, Julia, Dieter, Benjamin, Erik
Nieces & Nephews: None
Cousins: Unknown
Children: Wife miscarried once
Grandkids: None
Parent-in-Laws: Benjamin and Miranda Warren
Sibling-in-Laws: Peter Warren, age 17




Skin color: Light, from lack of outdoor activity
Hair Color: Dark Red
Hair length: to base of neck, though smaller lengths fall into eyes
Eye color: darkish, vibrant green
Size: Five feet, six inches tall
Build: Lanky, but with slight musculature

Description Ichabod Payne is a man of lanky build and long of limb, standing five and a half feet tall. His face is fairly thin with only a hint of gauntness and fairly complexioned due to lack of outdoor activities. The points of his nose and chin are softly rounded. His lower lip is slightly fuller than the other one, and a hint of a mustache can often be seen, though otherwise keeps clean-shaven as long as there are no projects that have the forefront of his mind. A thick mop of dark red hair hangs down to the base of his neck and into his eyes with soft waves. Said eyes are a dark yet vibrant green. This combination of hair and eye coloring is most unfortunate for him because some individuals in his era believe red-haired, green-eyed individuals to be witches, werewolves, or even vampires.

What further doesn’t help him in repelling such notions is his apparent allergy to the metal silver, even though it is only a slight affliction only when worn and more often than not results in simple skin irritation.

The inventor is not the most well-defined of men in terms of musculature, but nor is he weak from lack of physical activity. His inventions keep him on the go and always busy in some form or another. Some even require a decent amount of manual labor before pieces may be fitted together. A few scars have made themselves at home upon his back, lower forearms, and even a few small ones upon his fingers from various small cuts and scrapes. There are even a few scars in various places from the knees down, most of them being due to childhood clumsiness.

Ichabod tends to wear dark colors out in public and lighter-colored ones indoors, though there has been the occasional exception. And, whenever he is experimenting with anything that might spill, one can bet that he dons a rather heavily-stained, notedly masculine apron before jumping right in on something. Overall his attire is simple and practical for his needs, whatever said need happens to be, and perhaps a bit outlandish or mismatched.

But what would surely baffle both inventor and observer is: was the mismatching accidental or deliberate?


Picture:
http://www.johnnydepp-zone.com/byfilm/sleepyhollow/SleepyHollow28.jpg

http://www.johnnydepp-zone.com/byfilm/sleepyhollow/SleepyHollow21.jpg
Ichabod sometimes requires these or similar lenses to see written materials and other such things properly.

((if the links take you to the main site, simply go to Photo Gallery, By Film, Sleepy Hollow... images are numbers 21 and 28.))




Crushes: Feels very strongly for Arianna Terris...
Mates/Spouse: Joan Katherine (nee Warren) Payne
Status: Widower for 3 going on 4 years




Personality: Ichabod is best described as an avid inventor born several years before his time, for he is rather eccentric in many aspects of life from food preferences to belief systems. More often than not the young man is talking to a machine in the making moreso than another human being. Yet he is not completely anti-social: quite the contrary, one would find him most amicable indeed if they were to look beyond the strange individuality permanently infused into his persona. Most certainly has the potential to be witty and comical, even if he doesn’t realize such humor at first.

A lot of times he comes across as socially awkward, particularly with the opposite sex... especially when it is a member of said gender that he fancies. Even in his actions, Ichabod sometimes displays a case of clumsiness. He tends to spook rather easily, causing him to be labeled as skittish or jumpy, though most of the time this is simply from absent-mindedly ignoring his surroundings. Although Ichabod adores science with all his heart, certain natural and/or medical sciences have slightly greater potential for bringing out a squeamish side to him. Such samples of this behavior would be: avoiding a scuttling spider (suffers from arachnophobia), becoming violently sick at the sight of anything dead, dissected, or dismembered... and in some very severe cases fainting at the sight and/or smell of blood – though it has to be considered a lot of blood by his reckoning.

While the inventor has received many a negative critique about his experiments, he often pays his peers... that is to say other inventors... little heed unless absolutely necessary. While he has not often the funds to use the choicest materials, Ichabod demonstrates an ability to adapt to his surroundings and make use of any and all resources available. He can be a bit arrogant and defensive in regards to his creations, considering them to be the children he never had whilst married to his wife, whom is now deceased. Improvements to his designs are always being considered, though older models tend to be dismantled before newer ones are made, often times to salvage the parts. When he is not inventing – a rare sight, indeed – one can find him taking random objects apart to see how they work or how they might be improved.

It is not at all often that one sees him get truly angry, though frustration frequently manifests. Yet, despite his failures, Ichabod is stubbornly determined to find a way to make something work... and such an attitude also presents itself in the social relationships he has. The inventor is neither optimistic nor pessimistic, finding a place somewhere smack dab in the middle. While he does worry about his own skin, he is not so selfish as to only care about himself. In fact, if you have his friendship one has a loyal friend for life. Ichabod doesn’t like to see people he cares about in a sad or depressed mood, and will do just about anything to cheer them up.

As to his beliefs, Ichabod is very much pagan-ish though tends to follow his own brand of belief rather than any rigid set of codes and such. Occasionally he may seem bipolar in regards to what is and isn’t real... for example: one day he may avoid black cats and ladders and other such items surrounding a superstition yet the next day declare that only if he can see or touch something then it’s real.

Overall, Ichabod might be a bit of a wild card sometimes but his loyalties are always constant.

Usual Mood: Incessantly curious and motivated toward improvement; congenial and witty yet eccentric.




Your Story Please? Ichabod was born in a mountainous area of Mystenia to the ‘outlander’ Richard Payne and his Mystenian bride, Sarah. Being of the common folk, nothing too much of spectacular note occurred in his life... other than being born with red hair and green eyes – the marking colors of rather suspicious folk, indeed, by superstitious accounts. He was teased relentlessly for those traits in addition to not being much of an outdoorsy type: indeed, when he was a boy Ichabod gained more enjoyment from reading anything and everything he could get his hands on, and learning all he could about everything in the world in which he lived. Sometimes this curiosity led him to trouble, particularly when he took things apart to see how they worked and was none too careful in extracting the pieces. Local boys thought for sure Ichabod must’ve been a werewolf when one of his childhood crushes gave him a necklace of silver, resulting in a nasty skin rash where the silver had laid against his skin. Despite the allergy, however, he kept the token in his pocket at all times... until she married a man to whom her parents had arranged for her.

That was when he melted it down to make something much more practical yet not so near his skin: a pair of special seeing lenses with many strengths and toggles and other such gadgetry. Even a miniature spyglass was mounted to the spectacles. Some of the silver from the chain and crescent pendant she’d given him went into the finer workings of the glasses. The rest of it... Ichabod doesn’t really remember what became of it now.

Like his father before him, Ichabod quickly picked up the inventor’s trade. At first, it was little things like improving items around the house. Some were of odd design but yet proved rather practical. Then, it moved on to entertaining the friends he had worked hard to make that didn’t see his hair or eyes as a demon’s calling card. Sometimes, though it was rare, he would be called upon by a peer to fix a younger child’s broken toy. Children’s fees and exchanges were his salary for the most part: sweets, toys, or odd collectibles his friends knew he enjoyed accumulating. Though such times were rare, even genuine currency was exchanged for his ‘services’.

Richard Payne, Ichabod’s father and thus a commoner as well, was an inventor in the semi-unwilling employ of Jahan V. It had been either work for the Lord of Mystenia or meet an untimely end... and the latter certainly wasn’t an attractive option at all! Thus Richard toiled, occasionally allowing his young son to get in on the projects, and often double- or triple-checking the boy’s efforts in addition to his own. It was made all too clear to the man what his price for failure would be.

In the weeks following Ichabod’s eighth birthday, Richard had been ordered to improve some of Jahan’s military machinery. The task was difficult but not entirely impossible. Although to complete the task within the allotted time he was given... it was like spinning straw to gold in the course of a very few nights but without the help of a magical assistant. Even with his son’s help, Richard had not been able to make the ‘deadline’ on time. For this failure, both father and son were to watch Sarah’s rather violent torture and execution... with a threat that the next failure would result in little Ichabod’s death.

Terrified, Richard and Ichabod worked through their tears of mourning, in addition to sweat and blood, to finish the project within the next deadline. To the relief of both, they achieved their success much earlier than they’d been given, and thus began plotting their flight from Mystenia. Richard didn’t want to be the cause of another death, and especially not his son’s. True, they could both perish in their attempt to escape... but anything was better than living in such constant fear.

The day of their departure was when dragons circling their mountain village arrived, decimating all in their path to make way for the setting up of Jahan’s troops. In their attempt to flee both were injured, though Richard more seriously so. Determined to see his son safe, the man fought tooth and nail through the pain and general hardships of the voyage. Several times did the pair get lost along the way, headed to Caraklein for to seek the sovereign’s protection from Jahan. What Ichabod didn’t realize was the dragon that attacked his father had left the man terribly wounded, and that infection had slowly begun its course. Ichabod’s own injuries were well-tended... and in Richard’s eyes all supplies were best saved for his son’s needs, just in case; under the notion that he would and could last on endurance alone.

Upon arrival to the icy domain, Ichabod noticed immediately the place seemed far colder than his native homeland of Mystenia. Yet, Mystenia was not exactly an island paradise so they would adapt. The young lad was completely captivated by the beauty of the land’s more important structures, for it was as if the entire structure had been built of snow and ice judging by the outside. Amazing feats, in the eyes of both father and son. It was a few days before they reached the palace and were given an audience with King Strenver and Queen Zoeycite. After explaining their plight and an amount of deliberation, the Royal couple of Caraklein agreed to give Richard and Ichabod the protection they sought, as well as offered them housing in the palace. Even though palace lodging was not something they were accustomed to, Richard accepted the offer tentatively so as not to seem too eager or disrespectful.

It was a few weeks thereafter that Richard finally succumbed to illness, and a month after arriving in Caraklein his death. With the permission of those in power, Ichabod stayed on palace grounds and learned all he could from the teachers and scientists present in an informal setting, though eventually underwent formal education in exchange for various odd jobs and services that were required of him to earn his keep and the debt he owed to his teachers. At the age of 16 his basic education was finished and he continued to do odd jobs about the palace, though of a slightly more important nature. One task he had a bit of a love/hate relationship with was delivering messages: on one hand he enjoyed the work because all he had to do was find people and relay the message, and thus got to see what different people were up to... but on the other some of the individuals were difficult to track down.

One of his mentors and the closest anyone ever came since Richard’s death to being a father to Ichabod was a man named Stylianos. They got along together well, and in him Ichabod usually confided most of his deepest desires and fears. Also to him the young man expressed a desire to leave Caraklein and explore the other kingdoms west of Mystenia. It was through Stylianos that Ichabod arranged the money and means to travel, in return for one condition: to continue to confide in him anything Ichabod wished, despite the long distance, and to let him know at least two weeks ahead when he plans to return to Caraklein.

The trip into Alrania went smoothly, until he ran into a band of rogues pretending to be dragon slayers near the village of Carpatus. Intrigued, he stayed with them for a time, but did not like the fact they hunted such magical creatures as the dragon. After expressing such a thought, one of the rogues struck Ichabod over the head and thieved most of his possessions of value. Thankfully, that didn’t include most of his scientific gear or his glasses for such things were considered junk by the raiders.

Next thing Ichabod knew, he woke up in a warm bed with a bandage around his head, as well as bandages around his arms and legs. When he attempted to stand he was immediately held down by a young woman with the largest and most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen. Her name was Joan Katherine Warren, he’d learned, after a very nervous exchange of words that were less than cordial. After all, he’d just awoken to find himself in someone else’s home! As it turned out, Benjamin Warren was a sentry for the village of Carpatus and happened to find Ichabod not too far away from the camp. Ichabod had not been in a good way for he’d tried to crawl to the nearest bit of civilization, only injuring himself further in the process. But the family’s doctor saw to the young inventor while Benjamin attempted to find the raiders that robbed him. Turns out their camp had been set ablaze shortly after fleeing from their latest heist, and Benjamin was able to recover a few of the valuables Ichabod had lost, but most had either gone up in smoke with the rest of the camp or traded for needed supplies.

The inventor recovered slowly from his injuries, though mostly because he was trying to do too much too fast and did not like being told to do otherwise. Furthermore, in his recovering state he was even clumsier than normal. He grew accustomed to the company of the Warren family, and since he was a newcomer to the village was offered lodging with them until a suitable house was either found or built. There were a few empty houses, but it was the wish of the Warren household that Ichabod make a full recovery before moving into a residence all on his own. The inventor was fine with that, for when he wasn’t tinkering with something small his complete and undivided attention was focused on Joan, who came to his room often for talks and nearly everything else he needed or wanted. Even after his full recovery, Ichabod did not immediately move into his own home. As he had while staying in the king’s palace in Caraklein, so too did he do odd jobs for the family in order to earn his keep. A month before he turned eighteen Ichabod decided to move out and into his own place...

... and plucked up the courage to ask for Joan’s hand in marriage. They were married precisely upon his eighteenth birthday.

Life as a husband was not at all much different than being single for Ichabod, aside from the obvious benefit of a caring wife. He still had his experiments and his trinkets that he took apart and repaired constantly. As needed he helped out his in-laws as he had before marrying and moving into his own home, for they had provided purchase of the house as a wedding gift. Only occasionally did the pair squabble, and even then it was over trivial matters that were more than made up for after a few days. Most of the time, in fact, it was a matter of Ichabod’s spare inventions rather than projects he was being paid for taking up most of the spare moments Joan and he could have had together.

The pair spent 2 years in wedded bliss, which only increased when Joan announced she was going to have a baby. Ichabod had been so overjoyed yet nervous about becoming a father that he fainted on the spot. His brother-in-law, Peter, of 14 years, was rather amused by Ichabod’s reaction. Ichabod’s entire demeanor changed upon knowing his wife was expecting a baby: he was attentive to the point of pausing in the middle of an experiment just to make sure she was alright, and insisted he did most of the work around the house that he felt was too strenuous for a woman in her condition. Instead of squabbles about too little attention, Joan soon complained of too much of it albeit jokingly.

When Joan entered the fourth month in her pregnancy, she became terribly ill. It was the middle of winter, and there was a nasty illness floating around the common portion of the society. It is unknown whether Joan gave it to Ichabod or if Ichabod gave it to Joan, but what is known is that it hit pregnant women harder than men. Despite his own poor health, the inventor did all he could to make sure his wife was comfortable and that she received the best care they could afford... taking the same attitude about medical treatment as his father before him: Joan had to come first before he could even think of receiving the same standard of care, and would suffice on less than top-affordable quality.

But the effort went in vain... for Joan passed from the world of the living after a tortuous week, the treatment correct but not in time. Both mother and child were lost.

Ichabod did not take the deaths well by any means, and required an intervention of sorts to accept the treatment he’d refused in wait for Joan to get better. He was afraid of also dying, and that Joan would think he was just trying to save his own skin if he did get the treatment. All the while funeral plans were being arranged, the inventor was not in a good state of mind. This was only made worse by his brother-in-law torn as to whether Ichabod had helped or ultimately killed his sister, thus a rift was created between the two.

While Ichabod found the local mortician, Stephen Vazgoth III, an entirely frightening figure he had to admit that the man knew his trade: Joan’s form within the casket lacked all outwardly visible symptom of having been sick. The wake was a very somber event, though Peter had assaulted Ichabod for their rift had reached its breaking point by this time. While Ichabod still keeps in touch with his mother- and father-in-law, rarely if ever does he speak to the boy whom he’d helped with schoolwork, or was the first person the kid came to for toy repairs. Often times one would find the other at Joan’s gravesite, and in an attempt to avoid coming to blows the pair came to a silent agreement to leave when the other approached to pay his respects.

Not even three weeks later, the local authorities knocked upon Ichabod’s door with young Peter in tow. Joan’s grave had been exhumed and her coffin pried open, the body missing. And Peter labeled Ichabod as the most likely person to retrieve her from her resting place. Knights and even Peter searched the place thoroughly, to Ichabod’s outrage. About a dozen times that night did the inventor declare that he was not a necromancer and did not even tolerate well the sight nor smell of corpses, despite the fact of to whom the body belonged. When they found nothing they left Ichabod in peace, or what small semblance of peace a bereaved husband could be in during such matters.

What disturbed him the most was that the mystery even unto this day has yet to be solved.

Despite the fact Joan no longer rested easily, Ichabod still went to the grave every now and then to speak where he believed Joan’s spirit would always linger. Promises of finding her body were often his parting words, even though he was certain “both” of them knew how hollow such a vow was. He hadn’t the foggiest idea where to look, nor would he have help in this matter. And even if he had found the body, Ichabod would not have the internal fortifications to haul it back to the grave. He would be lucky if he could even look upon the body without getting sick or fainting, knowing the woman’s soul had long since left the flesh.

Life eventually went on, though if allowed to think too much about the incident Ichabod tended to get a bit paranoid about Joan’s spirit coming back to haunt him for some reason or another. Experiments resumed in relative peace and quiet, with the inventor mostly keeping to himself or his parent-in-laws. He wasn’t quite a recluse, but yet he wasn’t often attending social gatherings, festivals, and the like. Once more did his projects often take precedence over even the basic needs every then and again such as food and sleep, so engrossed was he in his work.

Then, one day he hurt himself upon a metal blade he was adding to an invention. Covering the wound so as not to be able to see the blood he more or less ran into the new town Apothecary, Arianna Terris, who was searching for him just as he was looking for something to take care of the cut on his hand. She personally saw to his wound, and thankfully he didn’t faint but the sight of his own blood did make him a bit nauseous. Though the cleaning of the wound stung perhaps a bit more than actually acquiring the wound itself, it healed over very well. Thus, Ichabod counted Arianna as one of his friends and with much enthusiasm created a lab for her. Every so often in the years since their first meeting he would arrive with upgrades or new lab device extensions for her to play with, or come by to see if her lab needed any repairs. To explain away several such unneeded inquiries about repairs, Ichabod would fall back on another mainstay excuse: “Routine maintenance... want to make sure everything’s in tip-top shape! Won’t take but a few moments...”

While he was far too shy to admit it, every so often reduced to babbling in her presence, the visits for repairs and “maintenance” were more to visit her than to fix a piece of machinery. Every time she’d try to pay him for such repairs or upgrades he would insist there is no charge at all, though would mentally amend that her very presence was payment enough for him.

At present he still resides in Carpatus and his work continues, often with him leaping from one project to another whether the last one was indeed finished or not. Given the recent conviction of Stephen Vazgoth III, Ichabod has many suspicions about the circumstances of his friend Arianna’s pregnancy but has yet to draw solid conclusions. Because the father of her child has yet to step up to the plate so to speak, Ichabod is concerned that Arianna might end up like his late wife... whom he sees a lot of in her even though their features are not precisely alike. He has vowed to himself to keep a fairly close eye on her to the best of his ability without appearing shifty.

Around the same time of Stephen’s conviction, Ichabod captured and trained a mouse meandering about his home. He’s gone so far as to declare the mouse his pet, given it the name ‘Evert’, and carries the rodent with him almost everywhere.




((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Experiments with magic-imbued crystals, though doesn't really know what he's doing...

Favorite Spell: N/A

Weakness:
- Arachnophobia

- Social awkwardness, particularly around a certain female he fancies...

- Clumsiness (which often leads to him getting hurt)

- Scares rather easily

- Squeamish: can't handle gore, death, or his perception of large quantities of blood very well; tends to faint on sight of such things

- Allergic to silver


Skills:
- Limited glassmithing
- Limited blacksmithing
- Limited carpentry and woodworking
- Limited assembly of pipes (the plumbing kind, not the smoking variety)
- Making things explode (a favorite hobby as well as a skill)
- Improving the designs of already-existing devices
- Inventing new devices (includes making blueprints as well as building them)
- Various sciences pertaining to his trade
- Some medicine experience
- Some diplomacy
- Can read and write
- Can cook... he's not the greatest cook, mind, but he can do it.


Items:
- Lucky Coins (one each of Mystenian, Carakleinian, and Alranian origins)
- various garments, all made of cotton, in varying colors
- Heavy wool cloak (black)
- Working apron that covers from collarbone to knees
- strange glasses with various lenses of different strengths, a mini-telescope, and straps to go around his head
- Evert the Mouse
- pale blue kerchief that belonged to Joan
- small phials and flasks with various sorts of contents
- sugar cubes (when he knows he’s going to be near horses)
- cheese wedges, wrapped (for Evert)
- Dagger (often used in place of a screwdriver type tool when he needs to improvise)
- Spare scraps of twine
- A pouch containing spending money
- Nearly-empty container of healing salve
- Small notebook for sketching blueprints or making notes
- His version of a quill pen, which involves a kind of stylus with an upside-down phial of ink at the end and a nozzle to control the ink’s rate of dripping. Kind of a precursor to modern pens, though the design is far from close.




Favorite Color: White
Theme song: Popcorn by Hot Butter (techno remix)

Notable Inventions ~ Successes and Failures
- Spider Exterminating Device – Click for Blueprint

- The Magnificent Hummingbird; a Flying Device

In Character


Name: Lyra Mirrian
Age: 7
Gender: Female
Class Rank: Servant Girl.. Rank may change later..


(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents: Molly and Devon Marrian
Grandparents: N/A
Siblings: None
Aunts & Uncles: Katelyn Mirrisan, (fathers Sister) Kyle Norisk (Mothers Brother)
Nieces & Nephews: None
Cousins: Jenifer Norisk
Children: N/A
Grandkids: N/A



Skin color: Very pale
Hair Color: Brown
Hair length: Shoulder length
Eye color: Light Blue
Size: 4, 2
Build: Very Skinny
Picture:



Crushes: none
Mates/Spouse: N/A
Status: Child, Not avalible




Personality: Lyra is a very quiet girl and very seldom does she speak a word to anyone unless she has to. However don’t let her silent attitude fool you. She is quite clever and mischievous, even if it gets her into big trouble. She has a clear view of revenge, One Baron in particular… who, she hates with a passion as he makes her life miserable and she deep down blames her parents deaths on him.

Around others however she is rather shy and polite, basically if you are nice to her she shows great respect and manners well beyond her class rank. However she still considers her self undeserving of kindness, is always shocked if shown any..

She is very good at making herself un noticed, though she does get caught on occasion… she can usually hide. Also should someone help her, she will try and repay them in the opportunity.

Usual Mood: Quiet, yet slightly mischieveious



Your Story Please?

Lyra was born to Molly and Devon Marrian on the Barony of Danothos. Molly and Devon tried there best to protect there little daughter form the Baron Yorick and the for the most part succeeded despite being slaves them selves. Her mother and Father took shifts taking care of her when she was little. Her parents were nice people, though very poor and had no choice but to live a slaves life, they tired there best to make sure there daughter got then food and water she needed to live. Even if it meant going against the Baron him self…

When Lyra was 3 years old her parents were punished and thrown into small cells… weather death was a intended result or not that was the result. Her parents ended up getting really ill after the imprisonment and died… Little Lyra was made an orphan.. She was taken into the care of an older slave woman until the age of 5 years of age and she was old enough to be put to work. Lyra cleaned, learned to cook and serve food in less then a year..

Baron Yorick was not her favourite person, he was mean, and cruel. To get back at him Lyra takes the risk of playing various pranks on him, like putting mud in his boots or a bug in his food. Most of the time she can get away with it, she is good at being unnoticed and being really quiet… almost eerily silent..

However she sometimes does get caught, and punishments were nothing but tame. Once caught she didn’t fight the punishments.. If fought they would just get worse… Her hatred for the old Baron only grew and grew with each passing year.. However she did find one person, one person to ever show her kindness since her parents died.. That person was the Barons own Sorcerer, Iago… he covered for her and protected her from the harsh temper of the Baron when he could…

She often wondered why he protected her… she wasn’t much after all, skin and bone of a girl… a slave undeserving of such kindness from a stranger… But she was very thankful for the sorcerer… she owed him her life… She may had been a slave be she still knew the meaning of honour.
WIP….




((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Sound
Favorite Spell: None… yet
Weakness: Hates wide opened spaces no where to hide. Doesn’t like talking, or too much attention on her. Sometimes too meek..
Skills: Cleaning, Cooking, Hiding, Playing pranks,
Items: A black Crystal, allows her to talk to Iago



Favorite Color: Black
Voice: very light
Theme song: Hide and Seek

Name: Rowan Violet Baines
Age: 19
Gender: F
Profession: Witch of sorts


Family-

(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)
Parents: Bertram Baines and Igraine (Tangeman) Baines.
Grandparents: Uknown
Siblings: None
Aunts & Uncles: Unknown
Nieces & Nephews: Uknown
Cousins: Unknown
Children: None
Grandkids: N/A

Appearance-
Skin color: Medium to light toned
Hair: Ruby red
Eyes: Green
Playby: Rachel Hurd-Wood
Hair length: Long, about mid back and slightly curly
Size: 5’ 7”
Build: Medium/thin due to lack of proper nutrition in Asylum


Picture:




Igraine Baines
Bertram Baines
Rowan's doll (Missy)



Love-

Crushes: None, though has a strange friend/love relationship with Stephen Vasgoth III
Mates/Spouse: None
Status: Single


How I act-

Personality: Rowan is a somewhat complicated yet strangely simple person due to her suffering from a form of schizophrenia. Because of her disorder and life experiences, she is sometimes prone to be easily agitated, causing her to rock and confine herself to a small space such as a corner or closet. Her episodes are usually caused by something that reminds her of a past event that was particularly troubling or even pleasant. She tends to be disconnected with reality and withdraws into her own world in order to escape an uncomfortable situation. However, she is very sweet and kind, almost to a fault as it causes her to be too trusting and naive despite past event cause by trusting the wrong person. Though when instigated, she can fly into a complete rage with intent to harm those trying to harm her. Despite being completely mental, she is mostly harmless.

Usual mood: Hart to tell, varied due to her disorder, but mostly in a “happy” type state.

History-

Rowan was born only child of Bertram and Igraine Baines in a small Mystenian village. Bertram and Igraine lived in what would be considered “the other side of the tracks” for they were not poor, but avoided due to the family’s strange goings on. Bertram worked as a laborer in the nearby mill since his teens. Though he was poor, he was not ignorant and was brilliant when it came to his craft, earning him the respect and friendship of the mill owner, eventually becoming his right-hand man. However, he was a bit eccentric and prone to anger easily, drawing up conclusions that were either impossible or irrelevant to the issue. During his late twenties, he met and fell hard for the daughter of the local healer. Despite Igraine’s reputation for being a bit on the “odd” side, Bertram nearly worshiped the ground she walked on and it was not long until they married. All though the early years Bertram was the ideal husband: loyal and adoring, he went out of his way to shower his wife with all he could to show his love for her. Igraine in return, revered her husband though not on the level that she received, yet never thought it strange that he was so obsessed with her. She eventually took over her family’s tradition and became the village healer, though was not highly sought after due to the fact that she was a bit strange and was known to dabble in the art of witchcraft.

Although their marriage was happy, Igraine began to feel the urge to have a child, something she had long for thought her life. Bertram, on the other hand, was very reluctant, feeling it would “ruin” his perfect wife, both physically as well as draw her attention to the child and not his love. She pleaded with him to start a family and he was torn between making her happy and keeping his wife to himself. Yet, before he could give his answer, Igraine became pregnant their fifth year of marriage. Bertram was nearly beside himself with grief, though he hid it for his wife and played up the joyful expectant father…though not very well, for he took to drinking, sometimes heavily. Throughout the pregnancy, Bertram grew increasingly agonized over the change in his wife’s perfect body which caused him to drink even more. Igraine, of course, saw little of this and what she did notice she denied to herself by some excuse being not very grounded in reality.

Soon the day came and with much trouble, Igraine gave birth to a daughter, which did not please Bertram at all, who figured that if a baby was going to ruin his wife, it should at least be a boy and be useful. Igraine was beside herself with joy and names her daughter Rowan, due to the tuft of ruby red hair on her head.

As time passed, Bertram grew more and more resentful towards Rowan, though he never let it show around his wife. He forced himself to show affection towards the child and in some instances he thought he actually loved her, but would all chance when Rowan would “misbehave” and he had to discipline her. Igraine doted upon her daughter, almost as a little doll, putting her in pretty little dresses (as pretty as could be for being peasants) and seemed to have a fascination with brushing Rowan’s long curly red hair. On her 5th birthday, Rowan was presented with a doll, made by her mother, with red “hair” matching hers. Igraine told her it was a very special doll as her face will change due to the doll’s mood, for instance, if the doll was happy, it would smile; angry, it would frown, etc. Rowan named the doll Missy, due to the nickname her father always called her when she was in trouble. It was around then that Rowan’s personality seemed a bit…off. She would be seen talking to thin air, get mad at it, then go on as if nothing happened. She would rock back and forth when Bertram would yell at her when drunk, staring at the floor as if in a completely different world. She began to do strange things like putting cucumbers in a jar full of vinegar, insisting that if let out they would run away and tell her secrets to the two headed bears in the nearby forest. Igraine chalked it up to her childlike innocence and wonder, but Bertram believed his daughter to be the beginnings of insanity and rarely let her leave the property.

Rowan soon became interested in her mother’s dabbling in witchcraft and Igraine was all the more happy to teach her. Over time she became quite fascinated with potions and brews, though was very good at incantations and controlling of the elements. Her strongest seemed to be fire and learned how to start small fires with the touch of her finger, though only strong enough to perhaps light a candle. Bertram greatly disapproved and urged his wife not to encourage Rowan any longer and threatened to destroy Rowan’s beloved doll if her ever caught her using her skills. Rowan, terrified of her father, practiced in secret.

As Rowan reached her teens, Bertram had become more or less the town drunkard, coming up at all hours inebriated, which began to greatly affect his work, leading to his dismissal from the mill Devastated and outraged, he spent almost the whole of one night at the pub, drinking and gambling away the night, all the while blaming Rowan for his misfortunes.

Rowan, now 17, terrified by the prospect of her father returning home and beating her (as he had done in the past and able to hide it from his wife), crawled in bed with her mother for both their comfort. It was now that Igraine was becoming a little afraid of her husband, though he never showed any hostility towards her, but felt it when around Rowan. When dawn neared, Igraine rose and left to search the town pubs for her husband, leaving Rowan asleep in their bed. Yet Bertram bypassed his wife unintentionally and stumbled into their home, so drunk he was barely able to stand. When he saw the sleeping for of what he thought was his wife, he crawled in and in his drunken state, began to be intimate with her. Rowan, waking to find her father attempting to have relations with her, was to frightened to scream, though she protested, which made him advance even more. Yet while in the middle of the act, Bertram realized his mistake, but due to the alcohol, continued, finding a sort of morbid pleasure to be finally “getting back” at his daughter for all the trouble she’d caused him. After the deed, Bertram passes out next to her, while Rowan fled to her own bed, terrified and silent. Igraine returned home only to find her husband passed out in their bed and Rowan in her own, and suspected nothing, nor did Rowan speak.

A day or so passed and Bertram grew paranoid that because of his horrid deed that he would be punished by the Gods causing Rowan to be with child. It was then when Igraine was out gathering herbs for healing that he brought his daughter to village near their under the premise that he was bringing her along on trading trip for the mill, for Igraine had not known that he no longer worked there. He brought her to the town’s physician to have his seed “removed”. Rowan having no idea the intentions of the trip was in for a painful surprise when she was strapped to a table and scraped from the inside. The physician was very careful not to injure her badly enough that she would die from her wounds. And time would tell if she would ever be able to conceive in the future. The ride home was silent as Rowan’s mental state deteriorated even further.

A week passed, and Igraine new something was wrong with her daughter, for she barely spoke or ate and seemed to have fits of anger, followed by silence.
One day while Bertram was supposedly at the mill, she finally approached her daughter and from some coaxing, was revealed to her what had happened that night between her and her father. Overcome by anger, she immediately left in search for Bertram. After approaching her husband’s former work mate, she learned that Bertram had not worked there in over a week. Enraged that he had lied to her on top of this, she stormed into the home and, seeing he had returned, confronted him. Rowan, having never seen her mother so angry before in her life, cowered again a wall as she watched the shouting match. Bertram, drunk as usual, stormed out, only to return moments later with an ax, attempting to slash at his wife, having snapped finally. Rowan screamed at her father to stop and tried to throw herself between them, only to be thrown aside, knocking over the lit oil lamp upon her mother, who was soon engulfed in flames. Bertrand, horrified by the scene, instead of helping his wife, turned on Rowan, screaming that she caused all this. Rowan ducked her father’s attack and grabbing the carving knife, stuck it unto her father’s heart; her burning mother’s screams slowly dying.

When the chaos settled and authorities finally arrived at the house, they found Bertram in a pool of blood and Rowan in a corner, cradling her mother’s charred body, rocking back and forth. After a quick trial, it was deemed that Rowan was not mentally stable enough to understand her actions and was looked upon with pity. It was deemed that she would benefit from being sent to the asylum as not to pose a threat to herself.

Two years she spent in her little cell, allowed to take only one personal item with her, which she chose her doll, Missy. It was all she had to talk to and her condition seemed to worsen with her stay the asylum. The constant screams and shouts, along with the sounds of beatings caused her to have insomnia some nights and would stay curled in her corner, attempting to block out the horrifying sounds. It was two years to the day when she was picked to accompany a band of prisoners across the frozen wasteland to Azazel. Rowan was frightened as she received much unwanted attention from a few others she was chained with the exception of a strangely tattooed man. She stayed close to him as he seemed to take an interest in her, partly because they seemed to be on the same wavelength of sanity. She learned his name was Stephen Vasgoth III and he would, more or less, take her under his wing against the others, partly because it was an excuse to throw a punch or anything of the sort at any of the fellow prisoners for stepping over the line towards her. She began to regard him as a close friend and naively put all her trust in him, seeing him as the only one who cares about her now.

Powers-

((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Through Rowan is still young and not a full-fledged witch, she is quite efficient at spoken spells and potions. They tend to be on the strange side, but are highly effective. She is also mildly pyro kinetic and when angered greatly, can cause small flamed to emit from the tips of her fingers, though has not had any further teaching on how to strengthen her ability.

Favorite Spell: Fire spell than can cause her to light a candle with her fingers.

Weakness: Her inability to understand the consequences of her naïve trust and her condition tends to drive others away.

Skills: Loves to dance, though has no formal dancing skill, just goes with the flow ( song that plays in her head when she dances). Is quite brilliant and cooking strange and mostly unappetizing stews.

Items: Doll, Missy.

Favorite Color: Ivory

Voice: midrange



Theme:
Come Little Children (and this version)- From Hocus Pocus
Sweet Dreams - by Danny Elfman (used to have Young Ichabod, but video was taken down =( )
Imaginary - by Evanescence
Dark Waltz - By Hayley Westenra - (Rowan's dark relationship with Stephen Vasgoth III)
Fully Alive - by Flyleaf (kind of summerizes her life)

Name: Anna
Age: 38 (looks 18)
Gender: F
Profession: Barmaid
Species: Half High elf, half Human

Discription Anna is fairly short, and has a small frame, blond wavy hair, and light silver-ish blue eyes. Looks very young got her age. Most believe her to be 18 years in age for those that don’t know of her Elvish heritage.

Picture:

Personality: Anna is outgoing and friendly with just about anyone, Has a flirty nature, and loves the opposite sex, she is in no way shy but is not biased.. To her all humans are equal weather adult, child, slave or royalty. She loves being around humans however dislikes her fathers side of the family who think humans are below them and exiled her father, herself and her mother from there territory.

Weaknesses Can not form permanent close relationships due to family Rules. Is sometimes very depressed, though doesn’t show it to anyone other then her family, who are far away.

Skills: Has a calming effect on most Humans, Archery, better then human eye sight.

History: Anna was born to Dicla of Fëanor of the Elven royal family and Countess Kathryn of Alrania, Her Elven name was Uraradith Fëanor, however soon after her birth her family was exiled from the Elven world for her fathers marriage to a human woman.
So she was raised in a human village , where lived a normal human life, went to school, made friends and foes, had good days and bad days.. Fell in love, had her heart broken,
until she reached the age of 18 when her family moved and she got a job as a school teacher. Her parents never had any other kids, her mother some reason was unable.

When she turned 20 she started courting a young baron in the village and after a while he proposed for her hand in marriage. She said yes, however the day before her wedding day her fiance mysteriously disappeared. It wasn’t until later that it was discovered a group of elves came to her fiances home and erased his memory of her, then had him move to a different city and fall in love with a different woman…

It had been a warning, according to her father, that there family couldn’t continue past her, she was the last… so she was forbidden to marry, or ever have a child… that was if she was even able to have a child in the first place. She was devisated to learn she was doomed to live out her life in loneliness.. Anna lived in the village with her parents teaching until it was obvious due to her Elvish blood her ageing was lowed once she turned 18, 10 years later and she had not aged a day.. Neither had her father for that matter.. Yet he was over a hundred when she was born and he didn’t look a day over 30 human years. And so her parents and her parted ways they moved to a remote area where there were few humans to disturb them.

While Anna moved to her mothers maiden kingdom of Alrania, where she again started teaching again. However a curse it seemed struck her again, when she fell for a ice young fellow teacher… painfully she left the town and moved to the capital city, though she stayed out of sight for a few months looking for a idea profession that would allow her cover.. Then she found a job as a barmaid in the busy Knight’s Diner where no one stayed long enough to even remember her name yet alone realize her lack of aging…

Name: Helfdane "Ashza"
Age: 25
Gender: male
Profession: Assassin/spy

Discription Tall with shoulder length black hair, his eyes are unnaturally black, having been drained of the white. His teeth are permanently dyed black and his lips are nearly translucent over them.
A long scar runs along his hip to his left knee.

Picture:

Amaury-


Weilew-



Personality: Although instilled from a young age with a sense of duty and loyalty to king and country, Ashza is a dark night elemental and thus his true loyalty lies only with his power. He deeply loves his son, Amaury, and would do anything for the boy; even to the extent of failing his duty under the sworn.
One of the youngest of the current Legion of Nacht; he was the leader of his own company, but after failing to assassinate his target, he was punished and rejoined his a larger company of five olders.
Although a strong and able man, he is weak in emotional areas pertaining to his life and the life of those he cares about.
He considers his life currently forfeit and seeks ways to repay his Blood debt to his saviour.

Powers Dark Elemental

History:

Born to peasant parents within the high Mystenian mountains, Helfdane was the first born and highly loved. His parents' deep love for him however did not save him from Alhozda, a dark sorcerer. Taken due to his mark, evidence of dark elemental abilities, Helfdane was raised and moulded into a member of the Legion of Nacht.

He became one of his master's favourites, due to his skill with both his powers and with the blade, earning for himself privileges such as freedom to venture beyond the blackened courts of training.

At 18, he fell in love with a peasant maiden who served within the kitchens of his master. Although it was forbidden of him, he sought her companionship and to his pleasure she soon returned his affections.

His training continued and with its growth and success so also blossomed his emotional mind. He asked his master for permission to make the maiden, named Weilew, his vassal. To his disbelief and joy it was granted and he wedded his love at the age of 21.

Beginning the completion of his training, Ashza, as he was renamed, was soon blessed with a son who he named Amaury. The child was without mark; but loved despite this fact, the infant was held high by his father.

Tragedy was coupled with joy as Weilew was kidnapped only months after their son's birth and despite his searching for her... he was unable to find her. Unable to care for his son, Ashza sought out his birth parents and found his mother. She happily took Amaury to raise and Ashza was able to finish his training and begin his first mission.

After failing to kill an Alranian general and being spared by the same, he was shamed and punished severely. Stripped of his leadership, Ashza is now just another member of the small legion.

Name: Weilew
Age: 24
Gender: female
Profession: Cook at Knight's Diner

Description: Short with a petite figure and long blonde hair, Weilew has pale skin as customary to her Mystenian blood and blue eyes. Her neck and wrists are both deeply scarred from her years of captivity and she takes great pains to cover the marks.

Picture:



Personality: Timid and shy, she keeps to herself and dislikes being around a lot of people. Because of her lack of speaking, most people believe she is mute. She has a very delicate personality having been tortured and taken from her family. Due to her fragile emotional and mental state, she is often overly trusting and easily frightened.

History:
Orphaned by a dragon's fury, Weilew was raised by the loving attention of Cac, an older cook who served a powerful Mystenian Dark Sorcerer. She was taught how to cook and serve from a young age and much to her adopted grandmother's delight became quite skilled.

Worried about how beautiful she was becoming, Cac had Weilew wear a heavy veil soon after her eleventh year. It served well to keep her safe from the depraved minds of the men she served meal to until a curious youth sought her out and asked her kindly to see her face.

He was a handsome man, despite his dark aura and she found herself falling in love with him as they stole moments together behind a small hut. Firstly he would speak to her, telling her about his life and about his miseries. Then she would listen and smile, holding his larger hand and feeling safe within his presence. As a year passed he began to softly kiss her hands.

They married only a few years after their first meeting and although it saddened her to leave Cac, Weilew went with her husband when his master moved deeper into the mountains of Mystenia.

The couple was blessed with a boy, who she was thankful was born without the dark elemental mark and thus safe from his father's destiny. To celebrate the birth, her husband, gave her leave to visit Cac as a time for the child to be blessed.

During her journey to go to her beloved friend, a band of slavers attacked the band she rode with and all were either slain or taken captive. Taken from Mystenia and sold far away, Weilew was beaten and cursed into the mould of a slave for two years until she fainted during her duties and was cast out into the cold.

A travelling family took pity on her and took her into their tents, helping her regain her strength and health. From there she journeyed with them to Alrania. Her time as a slave had been so terrible that she forgot her son and husband and thought herself alone in the world.

Given the job as a cook in the Knight's Diner, she stays in the back and does her best to stay out of everyone's way and mind.

Name: Ashoka Zabalagershom; though goes by simply ‘Ashoka’ or ‘Zabala’ in Alrania
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Profession: Warrior-turned-Spy-turned-Exiled Traitor-turned-Rogue/Informant/Assassin/Whatever You Need Him For, He'll Do It For A Price
Species: Dahaka, a shape-shifting desert demon with control over the sands

Description
Ashoka in his default humanoid form stands just over six feet tall, with a build somewhere between lanky and moderately muscular. His skin is the color of toasted but not charred bread – a golden sun-kissed tan. Long and thick black hair, as well as a full beard and mustache of the same color adorn his crown and chin respectively, though the beard’s sides are kept short, exposing his cheeks. Dark eyes are slightly sunken into their sockets, the eyebrow ridge directly above them protecting from the glare of the sun. Said eyebrows are slightly bushy... to prevent sweat from the sweltering desert heat from stinging his eyes.

His clothing is light of color and weight when out in the desert, but tends to stick to darker hues when in not so arid climates. By his mode of dress it is clear he is not from the land of Alrania but rather an immigrant, of sorts.

Being formerly from warrior’s stock, Ashoka has several scars upon his person... across his chest, down his back, along his arms and across his legs. However, these battle scars are cleaner in handiwork and healing in comparison to the scars left behind via hobbling done to his right ankle and left knee. On great days he walks with barely a limp... on fair days a limp can be seen... And on really bad days – days where his temper is short and his wrath is great – he is often spotted hobbling along with the assistance of a wooden cane.

... A wooden cane, it is rumored by few, with a concealed sword at its core...

Picture:

Personality:
On the outside, and so long as his ire is left unstirred, Ashoka seems a laid back man unconcerned with the problems of the world... unless it suits him or if it is a problem of his own. He appears to care less about Mary down the road pregnant with her twelfth child who just divorced her husband or James around the corner nearly having his hand chopped off by a fellow farmer in the field. However, this air of unconcern is a partial cover... for if it is something useful he is in fact very interested in the goings on of other people. Yet... not for the same reason as the town gossips... As a Spy or Informant, it is imperative he take an interest in various goings on and gather information. Who knows when it will come in handy?

He never truly possessed the Warrior’s honour, but he does possess the courage, resourcefulness and tenacity of one. An amount of charisma can be found about him... or flirtiness if you happen to be a female he likes the looks of... coupled with a laid back (though sometimes indifferent) personality assists him in acquiring the information he needs from less than loose-lipped individuals. Rather independent, stubborn, and determined, you can guarantee that Ashoka won’t return until he’s finished the job unless he absolutely must. He doesn’t like seeming weak by asking for help. However... he does have a ragtag band of fellows in the Alranian criminal underworld, as well as people in his homeland of Anzijab, that he can contact if need be.

Most of his dealings with people depends upon how he is addressed and his instincts, as well as the “vibe” he senses from people. Normally he doesn’t give most humans a second thought. But in the event he senses something supernatural Ashoka is generally more interested and also more on guard until he finds out precisely what it is that causes the feeling.

Business dealings are often signed and sealed, figuratively speaking, on the basis of the highest bidder. It would not be uncommon of him to bluff claiming that another has offered him a higher price. Whatever he thinks will benefit him the most, he’ll do it without much question as to why.

His anger is best described like a cobra poised to attack: one never knows when he’ll lash out or how, but one can almost be guaranteed some form of damage because of it... and possibly even death in the event one finds themselves in an abandoned part of town or woods.

Overall, though, if you have Ashoka's true friendship one will find him an amazingly reliable friend... Although since his exile there aren't too many able to brag of that perk without at least a slight doubt he'd turn on them. If you have his love - real love as opposed flirtation and promiscuity - one shall have found a true "diamond in the rough" in Ashoka Zabala.

Family
Parents: Shahrokh and Elaheh Zabala
Brothers: (older) Veasna, Serik; (Younger) Javed, Sohrab
Sisters: (older) Parvana and (Younger) Ziba
Birth Order: Veasna, Parvana, Serik, ASHOKA, Javed, Sohrab, Ziba

History:
Near the desert kingdom of Oeilvert rests another such territory known as the Kingdom of Anzijab. (Click here for map) This is from where Ashoka hails.

His ancestors founded the village of Zabala, but the Clan no longer resides there. Instead, they returned to their original roots of a place northwest of there called Aznannaten, within the Obsidian Dunes region... perhaps the most unforgiving of all of Anzijab’s vast desert. The return was not by choice: a powerful shaman belonging to the world of men cast them there, deeming that so long as a descendent of his lived no demon could permanently reside in any human settlement within Anzijab... making Zabala and Aznannaten the only two places a Dahaka could permanently call home unless they went underground.

Three centuries after that fateful day, a Zabala slew every last member of the shaman’s descendent and assorted relatives to ensure they could once again have free reign over where they settled. Over further centuries, they once again reintegrated themselves into human society, though this time became strong in number among Anzijab’s military. Thus, the Zabala Clan and other Dahaka clans and tribes are known for their output of warriors.

-------------------------------------------------

Ashoka is the fourth child of Shahrokh and Elaheh Zabala, and like his brothers before him was destined for greatness upon the battlefield. His training in the way of the combat started at the tender age of five, his strength and magical powers growing exponentially by the day. The training was complete by the time he reached fourteen and was thusly sent to the official military base of Huknapnatra, where he would be stationed accordingly. As luck would have it, he was stationed to the nearest military base to the Obsidian Dunes: Tozusheqqarra, not at all far from his ancestors’ once-ruled settlement.

It is to be noted that demons rarely get along well with other species of demon. And, as it so happened, a race of demon known as the Guai decided to launch an attack against the nearby kingdom of Anzijab in an attempt to acquire more territory for themselves. Many men fought alongside the Dahaka forces in the nine years-long war, which occurred when Ashoka was seventeen. At first, the teen’s eyes were filled with hopes of attaining glory and prestige out on the battlefield, just as his ancestors succeeded. However, it was not entirely meant to be...

As the battles waged onward, Ashoka was beginning to find the Dahaka’s efforts fruitless against the Guai, even with human assistance. Battle weary, he and his company of men were ambushed one evening upon making camp near the edges of a Guai settlement. All of Ashoka’s fellows – except himself and three others – were killed without mercy while they were taken prisoner. Slowly, one by one of the four were tortured and eventually killed until it was Ashoka’s turn to be interrogated. Finding his life much more important than winning the war with the Guai, and mostly wanting to get out of this situation alive, Ashoka devised a plan. A plan that would get him out of the situation, in good standing with the Guai, and likely able to take an easier road to glory and victory, to be named a hero by his people...

He would agree to spy on his people, but really would be a double agent – providing information on the Guai while feeding them falsehoods and half-truths. It was the perfect plan! The Guai, eager to gain the upper-hand, agreed to his proposal and freed him. However, Ashoka learned that freedom does indeed have its price: the Guai would kill him the moment they so much as suspected deceit... not to mention his own people would likely also seek his blood if they ever knew.

Slowly, his efforts to change the way the war worked took form. Ashoka did his best to ensure that his information helped each side enough so as not to suspect questions regarding his true motives, making it eventually even out and then cause Anzijab to gain the upper-hand. Everything was going well despite his hard work that, at times, he didn’t agree with... such as killing Anzijab prisoners of war, or torturing them for information. Most of said people were his own close friends, all four of his brothers, and other semi-distant kin also in the military.

Ashoka... a name in Sanskrit meaning “without sorrow”

Little did his parents realize just how aptly named he would become... for he felt no sorrow, no pain upon doing what he had to do. It was merely a job, and nothing more.

Towards the end of the War of Nine Years, Ashoka’s career as a spy came to an end, for one of his friends whom he’d tortured and left for dead survived to tell the whole tale of his alleged (and partially true) treachery. For his actions, Ashoka was thrown into prison barracks, stripped of his rank and authority, to await sentencing after the war. For two years he remained in a special cell where not even one’s magical powers could not save them from their inevitable sentencing, when the Dahaka and human forces ultimately won the war. Chances of being labeled a War Hero for his dangerous game had long since gone from plausible to impossible.

In the months that led up to his sentencing, Shahrokh - his father - disowned him. Ashoka's only two remaining siblings, Parvana and Ziba, avoided him. All those that had not died by his hand or Guai soldiers went about their business as though he’d never existed. Despite it all, Ashoka never shed so much as a tear. He’d done what he thought was best, and he was still alive. For the moment anyway... but that was all that truly mattered. At the trial, it was decreed by an Aznannaten magistrate that Ashoka was to be hobbled and then cast out into the dunes. His feet and legs were strapped down, and in front of witnesses his right ankle and left knee were struck with a heavy hammer, the bones crushed beneath the weight of the heavy stone mallet head.

It would be the first time since childhood that Ashoka truly cried, the blows that unbearable.

By further decree from the magistrate he was to be sent out into the desert in exile, left for dead. For days Ashoka crawled across the sand like a snake, searching for food and water as best he could since he could not stand as he was. Dying of thirst and thinking he would simply allow the sun to bake him to a crisp, the former soldier was startled to wakefulness by fate’s kind or cruel hand in the form of a young girl attempting to coax the neck of a canteen to his parched lips.

The little girl happened to belong to a family of caravaners passing through Anzijab who happened to carry medical supplies, among other things. Exhausted from his toils in the desert, Ashoka had little choice in the matter of his joining the caravan and being healed as best as the girl’s father could manage. He did not complain, but nor did he have money to pay for the service. In due time he learned the family had not taken him under their wing for the potential money, but rather out of generosity... not something his war-hardened heart was accustomed to.

Many interesting sights awaited Ashoka during the three years he traveled with the caravan, though he didn’t really do much in the way of assisting with the shop-keeping. Part of this was due to his recovery, while other parts included a lack of complete trust and the man’s rather aggressive selling tactics and sheer disinterest in the merchant’s trade. Upon hearing that the family planned to make a stop in Alrania, Ashoka decided that would be where he got off. And, of course, when he departed, he plucked as much finery and supplies as he could from the caravan inventory without getting caught and went on his merry way by taking what he could get and giving nothing back. Unless he desired to, of course.

At present one can find him and a group of fellows of similar trade at the Knight’s Diner in Alrania’s capitol city, ready and willing to do various tasks for a price offered by the “highest bidder”. Occasionally he deals with the odd rowdy customer, and helps out with the running of the establishment, but for the most part plays the role of a watchful patron.


Magic
Magical Specialty: By Race - Shapeshifting, Sand elemental, Keen paranomal senses (can sense magic, non-humans, etc.); By Tutoring - Illusions (e.g. can create mirages)

Favorite Spell: Whichever one happens to suit his needs best at the given moment.

Name: Cenedra
Age: 28
Gender: female
Class Rank: Princess of Lyaktish
Note: She left her kingdom by her own free will and was not banished.



Skin color: White
Hair Color: Black
Hair length: mid-way down her back
Eye color: grey
Size: 5 foot 6 inches (170 cm)
Build: petite
Picture: (playby- Emiliana Torrini)









Crushes: none
Mates/Spouse: none
Status: fairly uninterested




Personality: Devoid of conscience and any sense of morality, she is as the wind, flitting from one desire to the next, uncaring what tomorrow may bring and not lingering on yesterday. Her love and hate are given liberally to all with as much care as one might throw flowers from a high window in a rushing stream. Her passions and desires change from moment to moment and there would be not enough paper on earth to keep in check her alterations.

A mistress of wind, she lifts nature above mankind, although she passion for nature often dims from day to day. The only constant thought and emotion within her is the need for movement and activity. To shut her in a box would be to kill her and strip her soul from her flesh. Restraints, even within the covers of a bed drive her to mid-hysteria and she often runs after her freedom has been returned, for long hours into the rippling wind.


Usual Mood: Constantly torn between carefree elation or darker depression with the forever need to entertain herself in activities



Your Story Please?
Life began most unusually for young Cenedra, the young child and only daughter of King Rislon of the Lyaktish. As was her kingdom's custom each spring, to celebrate the indwelling of the gods into the temples, a child was taken high into the hills of the southern ridge to be blessed. Only an infant, Cenedra, a thought beautiful child, worthy of the sacrifice, was chosen.

Wrapped well by her mother, she was carried up into the thin air and laid upon a large alter amid the feathery flowers and softly blowing wind. The blessing was claimed by the priests and she was returned to her elated parents with high promises of a good and faithful daughter.

However, as Cenedra grew, she began to show obvious signs of what her mother called wickedness. Mischievously, she would trip passing guards and ladies maids... burn clothing she did not wish to wear... scream at the top of her lungs for no obvious reason among other odd events that left the court all wondering if perhaps the young princess had been in fact cursed and not blessed.

She was proclaimed a wind elemental at an early age and trained in the proper uses of her power by several masters. But even during the first moments of her growing power, Cenedra felt drawn to rebel against what was "good and proper"... she soon began to ignore her teachers, instructing herself in a more freeing and surely darker method of embracing wind: with total abandonment.

Further and further she slipped from reality and the terribly tedious routine of a princess. Her gowns she shredded, to walk unclothed, much to all those about her's total horror. She wore her hair only unbound and shrieked with such intensity when chastised, that soon she was locked away for sheer propriety sake. Her parents hated putting her away, but they could not allow her to behave so badly as her position held against.

Day and night, Cenedra screamed and shrieked within her "prison". She laid her head against the barred windows and sang hauntingly up into the forbidden sky each night, begging whatever deity that could hear her to save her from her life.

The last thread of sanity snapped when her mother, worried about her daughter's health, had the window covered. In her fear, anger, frustration and complete insanity, the young woman broke from her prison in a blinding flash of tunneling wind.

Having escaped, she wandered, mad, through the vast lifeless world, hissing and attacking anything that came near her or attempted to assist her. Weak from hunger and thirst, the princess finally fainted on the outskirts of a small town and was found by several children.

They called her Wind's Woe, for the entire time the village kept her within its walls, attempting to care for her, storms raged high in the heavens. Upon her awakening, Cenedra thanked her saviours and with the proper care was able to regain small amounts of her sanity. Clothing now stayed upon her back and she took small care to her health and appearance.

Still, she felt fettered within the town, and soon left, travelling through the wind until she felt far enough from her home to be safely on her own. By pure chance she stumbled across several other elementals, seeking refuge from various terrors and soon made herself to home in the high caves of Memona, just west of the border of Alrania.



Magic Specialty: Dark Wind Elemental
Favorite Spell: never really can make up her mind
Weakness:
No emotional stability
Extremely claustrophobic
Mentally unstable
Excessively passionate
Skills:
TBA
Items:
-Three long curved daggers, each with a different coloured blade
*black-cursed to poison and burn flesh
*yellow-charmed to heal the deepest cut
*red-cursed to melt the very bone
-A ruby engraved pendant
-Black robes with long slashes in the sides and skirt for free movement
-Metal nail extensions, which she uses to channel her power



Favorite Color: Black
Voice: Soft with a higher quality
Theme song: Led Astray by Sirenia

Out of Character

Um, my name is Illyria and I am horrible at spelling (just warning you now)=]

Name: Illyria
Age: I'm as old as my tongue and a little bit older than my teeth =D
Gender: I'm A GIRL AND I'M… not so proud of it… XD
Note: I tend to be busy so might not be on as much I will try though![/b

[b]In Character

Name: Illyria Clarell Uemura (the U is silent! So its pernounced as E-mura =D) (ps- I might change her last name… perhaps to Ubel or Ulrica… but I am still not sure XD I just really want a “U” last name so her inncials can be “I.C.U.” =D sorry ok if any of you are reading this, please continue ^_^)
Age:17
Gender: female
Class Rank: Bounty hunter/magician apprentice
Note:
Do not underestimate Illyria, she appears to be just a beautiful girl… but that’s the last mistake you will make XD!! ^_^


Parents: unsure, raised by her mentor
Grandparents: unsure
Siblings: none that she is aware of
Aunts & Uncles: none
Nieces & Nephews: none
Cousins: none
Children: Not yet
Grandkids: Not yet...yet



Skin color: a peachy color, but normal
Hair Color: Black with a red shine in certain light
Hair length: long, lower than her waist
Eye color: a strange red hue that is a deep crimson.
Size: 5’6
Build: she looks as if she isn’t that strong, but she is actually quite powerful and strong.
Picture:


Ok, she is supposed to not have the red scarf, but here you go.






Crushes: ok no one is supposed to know... but it's her mentor, Caspian
Mates/Spouse: None
Status: Single




Personality: (ok I don’t know if I should put this in first person or… 3rd person… so ill go with third ^_^) Illyria is someone that no one really can pin point a personality, she is full of surprises. She is mostly seen as dark, always analyzing the situation and performing her best. Around her friends (if she gets any ^_^) she is normally somewhat cheerful, unless she is in a bad mood… which normally doesn’t go well at times.
Usual Mood: She is normally calm, however she does have a tendency to get angry and if that happens, it is more than likely bad things will occur XD! Around friends she is happy and makes them laugh… well tries to at least =]



Your Story Please?

Illyria does not know who her parents are, and in someway is always looking for them. She sometimes believes that they deliberately ditched her and that they didn’t want her so they left her. She was found in the woods, lost, by a magician named Caspian and was raised by him . She was found to be quite good at magic and he took her as an apprentice, at which she excels at.

Illyria took up her “hobby” of bounty hunting when it was apparent that she and Caspian needed money for food and supplies (which I guess is the category for food… oh well ^_^). Illyria started to train with Caspian and after extensive practice and training, she became just about the top bounty hunter around (Is everyone ok with this?) She is not famous, and is not normally hired but looks around and eventually finds something that needs to be done and then asks for the job.

Illyria however pretends to be a different person in bounty hunting. She covers her face as a ninja would and never says her name while she is “undercover”. Illyria is superb at tracking, finding, and whatever the job requires. While starting out, Illyria was always underestimated, which made her want to prove they should not have, and that made her dangerous. She has mastered all forms of martial arts and weaponry and can think on her feet.

Her ultimate goal is to be the best bounty hunter and become even more powerful in magic. Her small time goal is to find her family, though it is not something she strives at.

(I will update this when I get more facts ^_^)



((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Illyria specializes in Dark magic and Elemental magic. She however, is still in training and is being taught other things by her mentor.
Favorite Spell: Doesn’t have one, she enjoys using all types of magic (that and I have no clue what her favorite spell would be ^_^’’’)
Weakness:Caspian (If something happened to him… oh she would lose it XD), being called a wimp (She is powerful and worked hard for it, therefore she hates to be considered weak), her emotions (most specifically anger… she can’t really control it as well as she would like XD)
Skills: Weaponry, martial arts, magic
Items:
Her Sword



A pendent that Caspian gave her




Favorite Color: Dark Purple or Red or ice cold eclectic blue
Voice: She has a wide range of vocal capabilities. She can speak soft when the time needs it, but when she gets angry her voice is powerful. If she is deliberately trying to annoy someone her voice is sarcastic and slightly sassy. (I hope that is what you meant as voice =D)
Theme song: Survivor by Destiny’s Child (It’s the best I have for now ^_^… and it works because it is like she is telling her parents that she is a survivor and is going to make them regret ditching her.)

Out of Character (tell us just just a bit about you outside RP)

Name: Rozen, or Raven if you know me at Hogwarts guardians
Age:
Gender: Female
Note:(Plus anything extra)

In Character


Name: Rozen Maiden
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Class Rank: Peasent
Note:

-Family-


(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents: adopted, never saw her real parents, Hilda (her adopted mother) and Michael (adopted father)
Grandparents: unsure
Siblings: her step brother
Aunts & Uncles: unsure
Nieces & Nephews: unsure
Cousins: unsure
Children: no
Grandkids: no

-Appearance-


Skin color: pale
Hair Color: dark brown
Hair length: past her waist
Eye color: light brown
Size: 5'4
Build: thin
Picture: (sorry I only have black and white not colored, also for some reason it won't go on the forum so its on my avatar.)

-Love-


Crushes: none
Mates/Spouse: none
Status:

-How I act-


Personality: Rozen is a very shy girl who does what she is told and doesn’t question authority. She is very respectful and kind towards others and loves children. She usually speaks when spoken too so she wouldn’t disrespect people.
Usual Mood: Happy and shy

-History-


Your Story Please? Rozen parent’s died in a fire with only her living out of the pile of rubble on the ground. Two people who were just married found Rozen and took her in with open arms. Once she began to walk and talk her step father began to teach her how to work around the barn. Since she was 5 she began, feeding the animals, seeding, watering, and harvesting fruits and vegetables, and so on. Her step brother who is 5 years older then she is helps her a lot.

Rozen has a loving mother and a strict father. Her mother would always make sure that Rozen and her brother are well enough to do any work the next morning, if not she fights for them to stay in bed and rest. Rozen is the one who goes to the market town every time she harvests food to either sell or trade with other goods.

-Powers-


((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: (Like, what type of magic does your character specalize in? Dark Magic (curses)? Elemental? Protection? that Kinda thing..)
Favorite Spell: (What Spell based on your Characters specialty..)
Weakness:
Skills:
Items:

-Other information-


Favorite Color: Green
Voice: Soft and gentle (for my character if you meant that)
Theme song:

-Basics-

Out of Character (tell us just just a bit about you outside RP)

Name: Rozen
Age:
Gender: female
Note: …

In Character

Name: Caspian
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Class Rank: Magician
Note:

-Family-

(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents: Miraz (dead), Lucy (Dead)
Grandparents: Mark (Dead), Susan
Siblings: Ala
Aunts & Uncles: Didn’t have any
Nieces & Nephews: John and Erik
Cousins: Isn’t quiet sure
Children: not yet, but does want one
Grandkids: no

-Appearance-

Skin color: Fair skin
Hair Color: Light Brown
Hair length: To the shoulders
Eye color: Dark Brown
Size: 5’8
Build: muscular but clothing covers it
Picture:

[url][img][url]https://2img.net/h/i457.photobucket.com/albums/qq296/Shadow_Ryo/166f9dc63ac65432de40aee8cb15ec95.jpg[/url][/img][/url]

-Love-

Crushes: Illyria
Mates/Spouse:
Status:

-How I act-

Personality: Caspian is an easy-going person. His passion is to entertain people wherever he goes, out on the streets, in the middle of nowhere, in the marketplace, etc. He loves to make children smile, when sad, he couldn’t stand a child crying, it breaks his heart. He loves children, and hopes one day he would have one of his own.

Usual Mood: Happy and cheerful.

-History-

Your Story Please?
Ever since Caspian was a young child he loved magic and entertainment. His father always encouraged Caspian to do better at everything he did. Caspian loved his father very much, but he never got to know his own mother. She died when he was a year old. He always wished he could see his mother, but of course it was not possible.

Caspian was an older brother with one sibling, his baby sister named Ala. He always would take care of her when his father had to leave to work, which was to entertain people. Caspian hated to do all the chores in the house, including taking care of his baby sister, but he still did it to please his father when he came home from a long day of work with barely enough money to put food on the table.

When he was about 10, he was out in the forest and came across a 3 year old named Illyria . He took it upon himself to raise her till she could find her parents or take care of herself. He grew to love her and they spent most of their time together, always playing and laughing and such. He however kept her a secret from his father and sister, thinking that if they knew he wouldn’t be able to “keep” her. He kept her in the forest outside his house and would feed her out of his own food.

One day the father was ill from overworking, but couldn’t stay home since they needed food. Caspian pleaded with his father to stay home and rest, but his father refused and went to work as always. A day passed and Caspian’s father never came home with food, and Caspian grew very worried. Later that night, a soldier knocked on the door and gave the sad news that Caspian’s father had died in a terrible accident. Caspian was then adopted by strangers who abused him and his sister. Though he was abused, he continued to care for Illyria on his own and kept her a secret from everyone, even if it meant getting beaten for not telling where he had been.

When Caspian was 13 he was fed up with the abuse and took his 12 year old sister and ran far away from the terrible parents he was raised with. Since then Caspian grew a fulfilled life of magic, supporting his sister until she was old enough to get married and move out of the house.

When his sister was married and went away with her husband, he and Illyria then started to spend literally just about every minute together. She is his apprentice and he does enjoy teaching her. He taught her how to fight, use magic, use weapons, and be a perfect bounty hunter, from which they both get money for food and supplies. Caspian does not know what he would do without Illyria , he has a strong bond with her and though he lets her roam and do bounty hunting, he still has a feeling of wanting to protect her and make sure she doesn’t get hurt.

Caspian might seem a very cheerful person, but he is very mysterious at times and can be dark. He can be a very cruel person if he wanted to, he doesn’t mean it at times, but it just happens because he is being reminded about his father and how he died at being a great magician and Caspian doesn’t want to end up dead like his father. Caspian is usually very careful around fire, but it’s something that can’t be helped once fire turns on you

-Powers-

((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Elemental for entertainment, Fire is his most talented element.
Favorite Spell: Making fire dance
Weakness: water (obviously) he isn’t great with water.
Skills: Very good at Archery
Items: Carries a bow and arrow around for protection, and for food when he hunts.


Favorite Color:
Voice: Caspian has a slight accent; he also has a smooth nice voice.
Theme song:

Name: Lord Gerard of Amsel
Age: 77
Gender: male
Class Rank: Lord and General of Mystenian Forces
Note: rarely is his title of Lord used to address him


(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents: Imre and Zelinda of Amsel
Grandparents: (paternal) Omar and Schmetterling of Amsel (maternal) Ancel and Delia of Crosgoth
Siblings: Dagobert, Helmut, and Orlantha
Aunts & Uncles: N/A
Nieces & Nephews: Eghard, Jana, Felan (Dagobert's children), Balfour, (Helmut's son)
Cousins: N/A
Children: Otto, Zelig, Pepin, Stein, Imre and Schetterling
Grandchildren: Theobold, Omar, Gerard, Richard, Roth, Ulbrecht, Raina, Odell, Richelle, Bergen, Arnelle and Clay



Skin color: Pale white (Due to Mystenian blood)
Hair Color: Blonde/White
Hair length: just touching his shoulders
Eye color: Blue
Size: 6 feet 9 inches (210 cm)
Build: Muscular and large
Picture:



Additional fact: He only has one arm... his left one



Crushes: General Chloris of Vogel
Mates/Spouse: Lady Clay of Amsel
Status: all but married to certain "crush"




Personality:
Amsel is a man of extreme strength both in emotional willpower and physical prowess. Although he has a deep love for his country and a deep passion to keep it secure; his honour and morals are always set before anything else. A caring man who loves children, he always attempts to return home to be with his family, not allowing said time to interfere with his leadership but finding it important.

Usual Mood: Calm with his emotions securely checked behind his mask.



Your Story Please?

When Jahan the Fifth made his first plan to attack Mystenia, it was Lord Gerard of Amsel who he selected to lead his training men. From the early age of twelve, Amsel fought and bleed for his country. He rose in the ranks by his boldness, courage and of course his position as Lord of Amsel. Despite the "blue" blood within his veins, he became one with his troops and never allowed himself anything that he could not give them as well.

In his prime during the Alranian/Mystenian war, he fought for Jahan the Third and then the Fourth, against King Wodon of Alrania. It was during an intense battle with said king that Amsel lost his right arm, hewed from above the elbow. Healers were unable to reattach it and it was cut off even further till the shoulder. Although this impeded him; he soon was forced to fight around his loss. Although Mystenia lost the war, he still went down in history and legend as one of the greatest heroes of its age.

Retreating into the Northern most mountains, he and his troops lived with their families peacefully for nearly a generation until they were called upon by Jahan the Fifth. His duty and his honour forced him to join the son of the deceased king against Alrania yet again. Although he was fiercely against the younger man's cruel and ruthless methods in which to fight the war, beginning with his use of dragons and only furthered by his trickery of attempting to kill the Dowager Queen and King Oberon's young daughter, Princess Cara, he continues to fight for his country.

At the age of 23, he married a peasant woman and together they raised four sons and two daughters. He happily played and taught the twelve grandchildren that his children gave him; especially fond of his youngest granddaughters who reminded him of his sisters, who had all died in the flower of their youth. His wife died in the spring of their twentieth year of union and he mourned her by swearing to never again marry.

Later in his life, he met a fellow Mystenian general, Lady Chloris of Vogel. Although he found himself falling deeply in love with her and she with him; they decided not to marry for the threat of death hanging above them and the vows both had made to deceased mates.




((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: None
Favorite Spell: N/A
Weakness:
He only has one arm (his left one)
His children/grandchildren
His fierce loyalty
Skills:
Sword fighting- adept despite his lack of limb
Equitation
Archery (uses hook attached to his shoulder)
Items:
Armour
Shield (specially designed to attach to his shoulder)
Sword
Several small throwing daggers
Helmet




Favorite Color: Dark Blue
Voice: Deep with a rather hoarse edge to it
Theme song: Bonny Portmore by Loreena McKennitt

Name: Lady-General Chloris of Vogel
Age: 59
Gender: female
Class Rank: Lady and Second General of Mystenian Forces


Parents: Debwin and Chloris of Vogel
Grandparents: (paternal) Aurhter and Melenpona of Vogel (maternal) unknown
Siblings: none
Aunts & Uncles: N/A
Nieces & Nephews: N/A
Cousins: N/A
Children: Hansel and Dieter
Grandchildren: none living



Skin color: Pale white (Due to Mystenian blood)
Hair Color: White
Hair length: Long
Eye color: Blue
Size: 5 foot 1 inch (1.55 m)
Build: small but sturdy
Picture:






Crushes: General Gerard of Amsel
Mates/Spouse: Duke Hahn of Meleovasa
Status: all but married to certain "crush"




Personality: Calm and fairly even tempered, Vogel is slow to anger but with a memory that will usually haunt the one who either insulted or harmed her. She is a fierce opponent; known for her rather bloody means of killing (via hewing by axe) Little is known about her personality save her calm and usually regal manner of bearing.

Usual Mood: Placid with deviations into mischievous yet constant placidity



Your Story Please?

After her parents both died from an illness, Vogel was taken from her home to become the aide to General Moncomte. As Mystenian custom does not forbid females to serve in its military, she was trained to protect her lord and soon after his death took his place as second general to the fallen Mystenian army. Although true valour and deed was kept from her through lack of battle and such, she led many a daring raid against any who her King demanded.

She married at a young age to Duke Hahn of Meleovasa and bore him two sons. Although they had a loving marriage, both were prone to not see each other for long periods of time and through such times, their love cooled to a fond friendship.

Despite her presence in the first Alranian/Mystenian wars, Vogel did not fight, instead going on various scouting and hunting missions. It was during one of these that her magical will was broken.

Sent to find the furthest encampment of Alranian troops, Vogel happened upon an older soldier. Although she fled, knowing he was a powerful dark mage, he followed her and the two fought within the darkness of the falling night. Her powers were soon gripped tightly within his stronger force and he all but ripped them from her causing her extreme agony.

Pleased with his work, the man left Vogel in the dark rain for dead. Broken, but alive, she only barely managed to make her way back to her people, who were able to partially restore her magical power.

She met General Gerard of Amsel not long after she was appointed second general and the two quickly became friends due to similar personalities. By this time her husband had died in a hunting accident and she soon found herself falling in love with the older man. Although she had no qualms with marrying again, he had sworn an oath to his dying wife and thus she respected it.



((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Weak Earth Elemental
Favorite Spell: N/A
Weakness:
Weak magical power
Poor hearing
At odd times she has seizures
Skills:
Combat with axe
Equitation
Archery
Painting
Drawing
Items:
Armour
Shield
Helmet
Sword
Axe (more commonly used than sword)



Favorite Color: none
Voice: lower pitched than most women, but still feminine
Theme song: Candles by Within Temptation

Out of Character (tell us just just a bit about you outside RP)

Name:weasel(its my nickname)
Age:
Gender:male
Note:i can sometimes be hyper/childish or quiet/reserved

In Character


Name:Colin
Age:17
Gender:male
Class Rank:magician
Note:lives in the Lancaster forest with his brother


(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents:hector(???),sabrina(dead)
Grandparents:???
Siblings:robert(alive)
Aunts & Uncles:???
Nieces & Nephews:???
Cousins:???
Children:none
Grandkids:none



Skin color:pale-ish
Hair Color:black
Hair length:neck-length
Eye color:pale blue
Size:average
Build:lithe
Picture:my avatar



Crushes:none
Mates/Spouse:none
Status:single




Personality:melancholic personality(http://www.oneishy.com/personality/melancholy_strengths.php)but can turn ruthless and relentless when provoked
Usual Mood:quiet and reserved



Your Story Please?his father left his mother when he was 3,and his mother died when he was 6.he was taken in by his brother robert who became a role-model for him.colin soon began to want to become a magician like his brother who taught him basic spells.colin now works as a magician/healer for hire(descriptive writing is not my forte)




((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty:shamanistic magic(healing,elemental,stuff like that)
Favorite Spell:bestia imperium-summons a animal(s) to help overcome obstacles,help fight etc
Weakness:control of anger
Skills:lock picking
Items:-a staff (appearance:http://www.uesp.net/w/images/images.new/9/9d/OB-Wabbajack.jpg



Favorite Color:green
[b]Voice:soft but serious
Theme song:float on by modest mouse

Name: Ramerna DuEunlon (Formerly Sarah Payne)
Age: 43
Gender: Female
Profession: Assassin/Necromancer


(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents: N/A
Grandparents: N/A
Siblings: N/A
Aunts & Uncles: N/A
Nieces & Nephews: N/A
Cousins: N/A
Children: Ichabod Payne
Grandkids: none



Skin color: White
Hair Color: Blonde/Brown (alters hair colour to blend)
Hair length: Waist length
Eye color: Green
Size: 170 cm (5.6)
Build: petite yet sturdy
Picture: (Play-by Miranda Richardson)











Crushes: Codon Va
Mates/Spouse: Richard Payne
Status: Widow




Personality:
Ramerna was once a happy and simple peasant woman, who delighted in her marriage and child. Her life was changed however when Jahan V sentenced her to torture and death.
After her 're-birth', the woman she once was faded into what her saviour desired her to be and she morphed from a joyful pure woman into a hardened cynical witch.
She has a sharp tongue and equally raging temper. Control is a word well applied, yet only loosely as she often chooses to throw all restraint to the wind in order to use her ever ounce of strength, either verbally or physically.
Still, she is emotionally fragile, due to her confusing array of disjointed memories and the abuse she suffered leading to her death and after her resurrection.
Beneath all her anger, frustration and loathing she is still faintly what the past remembers her as.

Usual Mood:
Stoically bitter or mocking



Your Story Please?

Ramerna began life as Sarah Demoy, a sweet innocent girl who adored wild flowers and a certain inventive young man by the name of Richard Payne. As the entire village guessed, the couple married at an early age and enjoyed a happy union. Together they had a son, whom they named Ichabod.

Keeping house and loving raising her son, Sarah's only care in the world was feeding her small family and making sure that young Ichabod stayed clean after his playing outside.

Being an inventor, Richard laboured hard under the cruel hand of Jahan V to complete and create projects for the rising tyrant. Unfortunately, he failed to meet a particular deadline and Sarah was in turn tortured and cruelly killed.

Although this would have been the end of most stories, it was seemingly only the beginning for this woman.

Instead of burial, Sarah's body was delivered into the hands of Codon Va, a young necromancer . In his attempts to gain power with the dead and the souls trapped beyond the veil, he restored her life to her, through the darker black magics. Since her identity was so badly damaged and her body ravaged by her time of being dead, he was forced to give her a new name and even attempted to give her new memories. The memory additions failed miserably and instead of assisting her, he nearly killed his newest prize.

For five years, Codon experimented on the poor woman, testing and applying various experiments of his and his assistant on her body, mind and in some cases her very soul. Finally they were able to partially restore her to her former physical appearance. However, her mental scars were such that even with intensive work, the necromancer was at a loss to restore them to their former self.

The necromancer and Ramerna formed a relationship of sorts, as he needed a success to show Jahan, his own master, and she needed him as her life was tied to his soul. Still, from the moment her eyes opened to see his youthful face, she deeply loathed him.

Over the course of the next ten years, Jahan, after being deeply impressed with the restored experiment, commissioned Ramerna to join his Legion of Nyx. Basically changed into a brutal assassin, she continued to lapse deeper and deeper into a darkness. She does constantly seek for a way to free herself and regain a true purpose for her life. As long as Codon was alive, she would also stay alive... yet also her soul was tied to his.



((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Dark Magic
Favorite Spell: N/A
Weakness:
Constantly in search of meaning for her life
Often falls into uncontrollable rage
Nearly a puppet of her 'master' Codon Va
Skills:
Controlling spirits through dark magic
Weaving dark illusions in other's minds
Sword fighting
Equitation
Medicinal healing
Partial hypnosis
Items:
Single bladed axe
Cane
Various assorted weapons


Favorite Color: none
Voice: strong with an acidic edge
Theme song: Pale by Within Temptation and Path to Decay by Sirenia

In Character


Name: Sister Eenra
Age: 25
Gender: female
Class Rank: Nun
Note:


(For family, just enter names and if there alive or dead please)

Parents: Rylon and Genina of Alrania
Grandparents: Devan and Ninin of Alrania (Paternal) Gregorn and Marina of Alrania(Maternal)
Siblings: Two brothers, Wilton and Cesin
Aunts & Uncles: several
Nieces & Nephews: Hena, daughter of Wilton and Genina and Gregorn, daughter and son or Cesin
Cousins: several
Children: none
Grandkids: none



Skin color: white
Hair Color: red
Hair length: waist
Eye color: green
Size: 5 feet (152 cm)
Build: small
Picture: play-by Deborah Kerr





Crushes: none
Mates/Spouse: none
Status: has taken a vow of chastity




Personality:

Sister Eenra is soft-spoken, gentle and kind. She is careful to never offend anyone and constantly attempts to be friendly and optimistic. Very sweet-natured and loving, she is rarely the enemy of anyone. She hums and sings songs of worship while working or doing occasional chores; unless those around her wish for silence. Despite her gentle nature, she has a iron will and knows about the cruelties of the world, simply not allowing it to overwhelm her.

Usual Mood:
Optimistic and happy



Your Story Please?
Sister Eenra was born Mana daughter of a miller and his faithful wife. They were good parents, raising their three children within the local church and in the faith. When Mana was five, she became ill and the illness settled in her eyes, robbing her of her sight. Despite this, she was a cheerful child and a joy to her family and those around her.

Unable to marry due to her disability, Mana sought entrance into the church at the age of 15 and was able to take her vows only 5 years later. Although she had become a nun, she still occasionally visited her family, enjoying playing with her nieces and nephew.

She currently resides within the capital city of Alrania within the monastery.



((Magic Users))
Magic Specialty: Light Elemental
Favorite Spell: N/A
Weakness:
Blind
Dark magic
Believes all people have good within them
Skills:
Cooking
Cleaning
Sewing
Singing
Listening
Items:
Habit
Cross
String in pocket
Stick to help her navigate
Sweets for children


Favorite Color: Green
Voice: soft with cheerful lift
Theme song: Mondscheinsonate (Moonlight Sonatra) by Beethoven (link)

Name: Raphael Van Dubhain
Aliases: Raphael Sangrey of Devon; Raphael Sangrey of Urdraza, near Memona
Age: 667, though looks 28ish
Gender: Male
Profession: He has held the guise of many jobs, though usually doesn’t stick around in one place for very long.
Species: Vampire

Description:
Raphael stands five feet, nine inches with a lanky build often filled out by layers of clothing. A high forehead and pointed nose are perhaps his two most recognizable features. His long brown hair is often loosely tied back, and there is a hint of a beard and mustache upon his chin and lip. Eyes the color of darkened tree bark and piercing of quality, gaze out from slightly sunken sockets. Due to his number of years upon the earth, he is rather heavily scarred: across his back by the whip, cuts across his left arm, the brand of an upside-down pentagram on his right, puncture marks on his neck (which are kept scrupulously hidden from view until he wishes otherwise), and scars across his torso and over his shoulders from battles. Raphael also sports a pair of earrings, one in each earlobe. He has a very deep, rasping growl of a voice. As per all vampires, he also bears a pair of fangs that can be “hidden” to a degree or extended slightly.

Picture:

[Michael Wincott]


Is occasionally seen wearing this top hat, festooned with blood, Victoria's token scarf, a skull, and a broken bone crossed roughly in half.



Personality:
Raphael can come across as a stiff and ruthless fellow, being suspicious of most mortals at large, as being hunted for one’s lifestyle tends to make one xenophobic. He has little need or desire for conscience though he has a flicker of a moral code of ethics that manifests from time to time. He has a passion for many of the arts, nature, and technology and warfare... but he generally only allows himself to let down his guard and enjoy the mellower of these when on his own, acting as though he cares little toward the odd person amidst his company. The same can be said of sharing his feelings, often hiding behind a mask of apathy and cruelty. Raphael can be quick to temper, though his patience level changes day by day. By default he is proud to the point of bordering upon overconfidence, defensive, and highly territorial.

It has been centuries since he’d truly loved. He had even fallen in a sort of love with the vampiress that bit him, if it really could be called love. Even in his mortal life Raphael epitomized the strong, silent, brooding type, something the first of his former, true loves had admired. Whether a vampire can truly care is debatable, but Raphael does have desires. In an amorous capacity, he is a bit possessive and can display a slight sweetness... albeit macabre and a touch feral.

History:
Within the space of nearly seven hundred years, there could be quite a bit indeed to say on Raphael Van Dubhain... more commonly known as Raphael Van (of) Devon. Though he will not tell it and certainly doesn’t carry himself so, he was born of humble stock. Raphael does not remember much about his childhood, though the reason for his name was because his mother had been deathly ill while in the last stages of her pregnancy, but recovered shortly before his birth. His parents being those of faith, they believed that God had healed an illness within their unborn son, and then thusly cured his mother. While he had been an obedient child, Raphael did not fully believe this tale as it is told.

In his early adulthood, Raphael fell in love with a nobleman’s daughter named Victoria. By this time Raphael had become a well-educated young man and a knight in training at that, but the nobleman still deemed him unworthy of marrying his daughter due to the fact he was not born a noble. Frustrated at the repeated refusals for the union to take place, Raphael and Victoria began planning for a breakneck flight from Devon and into the kingdom of Alrania.

They packed up and rode out before daybreak, determined to put as much space between them and Victoria’s father’s troops as possible before their absence was noticed. Long did they travel, into Alrania and heading north for the capitol, with Victoria’s father and his men not but a few days behind. The couple did their best to make it harder for their pursuers to follow, yet it slowed them down as well.

Near a place called Memona the pair took some rest, noting the hills would provide good cover and the old castle nearby. On the other side of the valley they traversed was a great mountain. As they passed the earthen formation, Victoria looked up and spied a single rose blowing in the wind, and deemed it the most beautiful she’d ever seen. They agreed to visit the castle and see if it possessed a chaplain or other clergyman that would unite them in wedlock, and Victoria asked if Raphael would fetch the rose atop the mountain for her. He agreed, and began the hazardous trek. They could lose one day’s head start if it meant Victoria would be happy with this rose amidst other, lesser flowers she would bear during their wedding ceremony.

Upon reaching the top of the mountain Raphael had no more than wrapped his hand around the stem of the rose when a vampiress who considered herself Keeper of the Rose attacked him from behind, sinking her fangs deep into his neck and feasting upon the blood while he struggled to be free. By the time he’d freed himself it was much too late, and in attempt to flee had taken a lethal shortcut down the mountain – practically shoved off its summit by the vampiress – landing in a crumpled heap before his betrothed, whom was now in the custody of her father, who had finally caught up with them. Lord Charles of Devon had to practically drag his daughter away from the corpse of her beloved and back to their kingdom.

Three days after his death, Raphael awoke with an agonizing scream and found himself in a dark cell. His mouth was dry and didn’t feel quite right, and his skin had paled considerably. White hot venom it seemed like burned at his neck. Placing his hand to the inflamed flesh, Raphael pulled his hand away and noted that it had come away with a collection of semi-dried blood. Then he discovered he was being watched.

With sadistic yet seductive eyes the vampiress surveyed him. In a fit of rage Raphael made to assail her, but the bars prevented him from being successful. The vampiress offered him the raw liver from a beast she herself had feasted on, and in a swift change of disposition he accepted it without question for he was famished. She introduced herself as ‘Tanith Sangrey, Keeper of the Rose and Elder of the Sangrey Coven’ but did not specify the meaning behind ‘Keeper of the Rose’. After overcoming a week of distrust, Raphael learned all he could about what Tanith had turned him into and its limitations. He wasn’t so sure he liked the change, but there was nothing that could be done now. Once it became clear Raphael could be trusted as much as any vampire would trust another, he was released from his prison and allowed to wander the dungeons of the place where the vampires stayed. As it turned out, the castle he and Victoria had intended to go to was long since abandoned save for the small coven of blood-drinkers.

In the course of several months, the vampire learned to love the one who had bitten him... or rather something that could barely pass for love. Victoria was so far away, likely wed to another... all because of this woman, by his eyes. Despite being the youngest of all of them Raphael had ascended in rank all too quickly to the coven elder’s lover which, for some, created a great chasm of a rift. This rift resulted in the occasional duel to the death or less than gentle treatment whenever physical contact was mandatory or could be gotten away with.

After a year’s worth of living on bloodshed of mortal and beast alike, Raphael traversed back to Devon. It was his hope that Victoria had found peace in his partial passing, knowing that if Charles didn’t approve of him before then there was no way he was going to approve now. When he got there, Raphael learned that Charles was recently deceased and that Victoria had been forced to wed a cruel man that treated as her little more than the common prostitute. It was also rumored that her husband may have murdered Lord Charles with poison. Thus, Raphael waited; stalking his prey and waiting for just the right moment: the moment the man – named Warren – struck Victoria, drawing blood. Tempted by the smell of the substance alone, Raphael attacked Warren much in the same manner as Tanith had assailed him little over a year ago. The only crucial difference was Warren was not to become a vampire, and thus Raphael bled him dry. He remembers Warren’s blood being sickly sweet with a most bitter aftertaste.

One would assume Victoria would be thankful for Raphael’s deed, removing her abuser from the face of the earth. This was what he had assumed most definitely. Instead she paled almost as much as he and they argued. As it so happened, she’d asked Warren to poison her father and had intended to get away from the man to visit Raphael’s grave. They argued about what Raphael had become, and what would become of her now with both her father and her husband dead. Much as he would’ve liked for Victoria to come away with him, he did not offer it. For one thing, Tanith was a jealous woman. Secondly, a part of the humanity left in him did not want her to undergo the same agony he went through. In attempt to get the argument to cease, Raphael kissed her. It didn’t quite go as planned, though she did give him a token of her former love for him: a short, blue scarf-like strip of cloth. With the sun soon approaching, Raphael fled with Victoria once again, though this time their purpose was much different.

So long as Raphael kept completely covered from the sun he could travel without fear of burning to ash. Victoria was not nearly as fast as he now that he’d become a vampire, so their trip was somewhat slowed. He dropped her off at Danothos as the Baron of the land at that time was a good and noble man with much honor to his name. Before they parted ways soft words were exchanged, and they’d spent one last night together.

Raphael has no idea of the half-vampire, half human child that was sired that night... nearly six-hundred thirty-seven years ago.

Upon arriving back ‘home’ to Urdraza Castle – where his coven resided – he was greeted with suspicion. They could smell mortal upon his flesh and clothes. Tanith, however, was able to pick up on not only the mortal Raphael had feasted on but the woman he had coupled with as well. For the latter, she punished Raphael: it was an unspoken rule of the Coven that when one takes a lover amidst their own that they will not seek another – especially a mortal – and merely walk back onto their unhallowed grounds without first cleansing themselves of the sin. He was not powerful enough yet to question the consequences Tanith saw fit to perform upon him, but with each strike he vowed to get revenge on the lot of them. He hadn’t wanted this, didn’t want her; he wanted Victoria. And for turning him, and forcing him into this life, they would pay and pay dearly.

Centuries passed at a snail’s pace. Victoria, he knew, would have long since perished by now. It was this knowledge that broke what little was left of his heart. Upon nearing half a millennium, Raphael was beginning to feel very confident in his abilities. Slowly he started picking off members of his coven one by one. By drinking the blood of his own coven, he gained valuable insights into various high-ranking members of past and present. Finally all that was left was Tanith and a few of her most trusted attendants. It was a long and bloody battle – one that Raphael nearly lost his undead life in but rose victorious in the end. It took him a whole two days to heal from the ordeal and declare himself the Elder of the Sangrey coven... considering he was the only one left.

Raphael has spent this past century in relative solitude. In the past few decades he’s noticed someone has taken residence in the Memona hills, or rather the caves below them, and has formed a shaky alliance with the woman of the caves.

On his last visit to Devon, he’d noticed a young woman fleeing her kingdom just as he and Victoria had, and followed her straight to the capitol. In part he wanted to make sure she did not make the same mistake as he and attempt to claim the rose, for he felt bound to protect it and its growing place. Secondly, he was keenly curious as to what would drive the young Lady who seemed of honorable stock out of her homeland. Perhaps in due time he would find out... if his interest continues to hold.


Theme Song: Dragula by Rob Zombie

Name: Phoebe Van Dubhain
Alias: Isis Larkhaven
Age: 637, though looks as though she is in her early twenties, at most
Gender: Female
Profession: Self-Employed Assassin and Bounty Hunter, if the price is right.
Species: Vampire

Description With grey eyes, pale skin, and long raven locks, Isis looks like nothing more than your average young maiden. It is only with closer observation that one sees that she is anything but. If one looks hard and carefully, they would see that the grey orbs are a brighter, almost colorless, piercing gaze akin to shards of glass that seem to shatter one's very soul. They would see that the long night colored hair and pale, almost unnatural skin, would glow (but not sparkle! Freakin twilight cliches... lol, jk) under the cover and embrace of midnight and moonlight. Her steps are short, quiet, and fast. One blink equals a great number of feet and her prescence is rarely detected if she chooses to walk with stealth. With an hourglass, petite figure, she is alluring, though the most striking aspect of her appearance is without a doubt her crimson, wine colored lips. Often curved in a neutral, straight line, it is possible for them to curve into a smile of sorts, though whether it be one of genuinity or not, it is difficult to say. However, regardless, the allure of her lips is another's downfall, for their seductive aura both attracts and seduces her prey, for as they come closer and closer, as do her sharp, vampiric teeth, lengthening, biting, feasting, and killing, all at her will...

Picture:







Tattoos:


Located on her inner left wrist


Upon the upper, right side of her back


Above her heart

Piercings:



Personality: With the centuries of solitude, Isis has lost the capability for trust in others. She watches others very carefully, with a calculating gaze, always expecting the worst in others, and half the time, much to her misfortune, receiving exactly that. Much of her time is spent observing, for she believes that it is actions that speak and reveal truths words will never show. There is an intense coldness upon her, as time has left her utterly devoid of warmth and compassion. Her life as a bounty hunter and assassin has only intensified this as taking a life has lost the magnitude it had when she was a young girl, and each murder she now commits, whether it be a withered, kindly old woman, or a young, defenseless, innocent child, means nothing to her, as her ego and arrogance also plays a part in her attitude, as she views the taken lives as victories against the world that has taken all that she ever held dear.

Despite these flaws in her character, the human side of her still retains the potential for love, for much of her pain is just a result and repercussion of a life filled with pain and loneliness and a sense of eternal rejection, under the belief she was and will never be enough.

If she could only find someone to heal the shards of her broken heart, and change the stars she has written out for herself…


History: Phoebe Van Dubhain was born in a cloud of darkness, both as a beacon in the night for the woman who gave her life, and, ultimately, for much of her life, an anchor. As the product of one night between the Noble Lady Victoria and Raphael Van Dubhain, Phoebe was born with Vampiric genes, making her a half-human, half-Vampire; a rarity indeed for most vampires were created one via infection, whereas she was one through her own flesh and blood. Her condition was both a blessing and a curse for the girl, though for much of her life, particularly her early childhood, it was mostly the latter.

She grew up very close to her Mother, having very much a normal Mother-Daughter relationship with her, particularly since her Father was out of the picture. However, maternal bonds could only go so far when Mother and Daughter were of different species. Despite knowing what she was right from the get-go and all of her efforts to commit herself into leading as normal of a life as possible, the vampiric side of the child still managed to emerge from time to time, taking over her. One incident in particular occurred just a few days shy of her fourth birthday.

She was at the front of her home, innocently playing with her doll when a neighborhood boy of six winters approached her. He had a reputation amongst the children for being a bully, yet had a knack for appearing to be a sweet, affectionate boy to all of the grown ups. Plus, there was also the added factor that his Father was one of the wealthiest merchants in town.

The boy had started off just teasing her, calling her names, making fun of her for the fact that she had no Father whereas his was fond of and played with him often. Noticing that her Mother was busy inside, he began kicking some dirt into her face, pulling her hair, and destroying the doll her Mother had given her as an early birthday present. Desperate, Phoebe had begged the boy to stop with tears of shattered innocence cascading down her face. Yet no matter how much she begged and pleaded, he wouldn't stop. He tormented her for what felt like an eternity before something in her snapped. Her eyes flashed to where the grey color was barely visible. Her next few memories were the odd hardening sensation within her mouth, as well as crashing into the boy. And of course, the warm, sweet decadence that was sweeter than any candy her Mother had ever given her, and that soon filled her mouth...

It was all a blur after that, though she distinctly recalled a high pitched female screams that sounded much like her Mother, followed by the two of them hastily packing and setting foot off to another town within the same night...

Several similar incidents of her vampiric half emerging beyond her control occurred within the next few years, when she was five, seven, nine,eleven, and fourteen winters old, resulting in the two moving from various regions and towns throughout Alrania. It wasn't until Phoebe grew to be a young maiden that control over her vampiric abilites strengthened. Unfortunately, it was also that era of her life in which she began facing the most difficult of trials in her life.

At the dawn of her seventeenth birthday, the pair had settled into the capital town of Alrania, a new city marking yet another, though hopefully the last, fresh start. It had started just as that; a new beginning and chapter in their lives, and an end to the era of turmoil, hysteria, and rage.

How wrong and naiive both Mother and Daughter were, for if anything, the era of life prior to their time in the capital city was but a prelude to the long, lonely road Fate had mapped out for both of them.

With the two now residing in the capital city where the Castle was, Victoria was able to reconnect with her Noble roots, and the two soon joined the Court as ladies to the Queen. It was a happy time indeed for Phoebe had always dreamt of the lavish balls, mountainous feats, anf flirtatious courtly love, all of which she happily indulged in, as she very easily adjusted to life at Court. However, it seemed that all she loved about Court was beat the sugar concealing the lethal poison of truth, for little did she know of the amorous, dark passion beneath the Court's glowing prestige; where a demon of all the seven deadly sins combined slumbered in insatiable appetite, constantly searching for another innocent soul to corrupt and devour.

She had fallen in love with the young King Rolande, and to her surprise and ultimate doom, he had fallen for her as well. Both knew of the risks, the scandal, the doom that their union would surely befall on them, not only because he was King, but a married one at that. Yet, regardless of the magnitude of the repercussions, neither could bring themselves to care, and they found themselves falling deeper and deeper in love. To say Victoria was furious when she found out would have been an understatement, indeed. A rift between Phoebe and her Mother formed, dissolving the strong bond that connected them, and creating a wall between the two that they were destined to never overcome. Over and over again, Victoria attempted to warn her daughter of the dangers, begging her to see reason, but to no avail. The young were foolish indeed, particularly when they were in love.

During the day, they were naught but King of Alrania, and Lady of the Queen. He watched over the country, while she over their Queen, a woman they betrayed day after day, night after night, yet continued to smile at the two with blissful ignorance. At night it was all different. Under the cloak of shadows, titles were naught but words, and vows binding the King to his own wife were hollow echoes of the shadows. Everyday they would ride out into the night, far into the forest, to the building of an old, abandoned Monastery. There they would lay together under the stars, reveling in the depth of emotion and love they held for another.

As always in Phoebe's life though, such happiness was not meant to last, for Fate was never a friend nor ally to her. Having grown suspicious of her husband’s wanderings at night, the Queen had sought the help of his Confessor, both suspecting Rolande of adultery, and fearing for his mortal soul for committing a sin against the Gods. Late one night, the Confessor had followed Rolande deep into the night and had stumbled upon him and Phoebe at the monastery, entangled within each other. Unbeknownst to the Confessor, the Queen had followed him in return; her curiosity to her husband’s whereabouts getting the best of her.

Sorrow and the pangs of betrayal overwhelmed her as she stumbled upon the sight of her husband coupling with another woman, and one of the ladies she favored at that. Her anguish blinded her, seizing control over her as she seized a nearby cross at charged at the couple. Phoebe tried to move out of the way, but it was too late, for the Queen had snuck up upon the happily entwined King and Lady, stabbing the cross into Phoebe’s heart, as though to make the younger woman feel the pain she now felt.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment, as her vampiric instincts, despite being asleep and kept at bay for quite a few years emerged one last time before it would completely take over her body as it does now in present day. Her fangs elongated, and within the next second were piercing the Queen’s neck, as she turned the woman who she had faithfully served into no more than a midnight snack, revealing her true form to the man she loved, and the holy man who swore then and there to rid the King of the satanic evil that had took the form of a young woman to seize his soul, feast on it, and tempt him into Hell’s paradise.

The events that followed the Queen’s murder were now beyond the King’s hands, though given the circumstances, Phoebe wondered if any of it would be different even if it all were up to the King, for he had yet to even look at her since the night at the Monastery. Shortly after the Queen breathed her last, the Royal Guards had arrived and had taken her into custody, locking her in a cold, dark, empty cell. High Priests and various other holy men were called to assemble, meeting to discuss the best way to eliminate and execute the creature that had murdered their Queen.

On the night before her scheduled execution, as Phoebe stared through metal bars at the midnight sky and stars, just as she had weeks prior within Rolande’s embrace, she received a visitor she never thought she would see again: Rolande. In a last act of love and forgiveness, he had snuck into her cell to secretly set her free and save her from death. The two exchanged one last kiss as well as whispered promises of everlasting love before Phoebe rode out to the night, shielded by shadows, guided by love.

She never saw or heard from her Mother or Rolande again. She heard whispers of their fates, but no more than gossip at the tavern. She changed her name to Isis Larkhaven shortly after she fled, not only to gain a new identity, but moreso because she couldn’t bear to hear others voices utter her name, but never Rolande’s love-filled cadence.

The years quickly turned into centuries as time proved to her above all, that perhaps her destiny was truly to be alone for all her years upon this God-forsaken Earth. Other vampires sneered at her for being only half and not what they considered “pure”, despite the fact that it could be argued that she was closer to their idea of “pure” considering she was born a Vampire, and living with the humans was simply not an option, considering she had ceased aging any further, and would surely attract only more attention.

With the years of solitude, her trust in other’s faded, shaping her into a loner. A few times over the centuries she had attempted to reach out into others, only to deeply regret it, one such example being her encounter with the Sea-Witch Circe. The knife wound at her heart had never fully healed, leaving her in constant waves of pain. Hearing tales of a skilled witch, she ventured into Circe’s domain, agreeing to a life of servitude, serving Circe’s will and wishes. To the vampire, her life either way was servitude to one person or another. At least this way she would do so without the constant, unwavering pain bruising her long, eternally broken heart.

To this day, Isis, as she is now known, walks the Earth in bitter loneliness. Her only solace and source of happiness in the world is in preying the Kings of Alrania. With each passing century, she haunts the current King, convincing herself that he is Rolande, and that all they had once swore, their promise to be reunited again, has come true, waiting to be fulfilled in his “reincarnated” self. At the moment, she has her eyes fixated on King Oberon, waiting for the perfect moment to strike…

Theme Song(s): Bird by Tristania; I Walk Alone by Tarja; The Haunting by Kamelot

Name: Hideaki Kurosawa
Age: 87
Gender: Male
Profession: Mystic; one of the Guildmasters/Keepers of Gyld Arcanus

Description Hideaki is a rather short man, lucky if he stands five feet and two inches, and is of middling weight. Almond-shaped brown eyes are perhaps his most prominent facial feature. He possesses a full head of salt-and-pepper hair tied up into a knot-like shape, a bit of a goatee, and a golden tan complexion. To look at his face, particularly into his eyes, is to see a man that has seen war yet desires peace whenever possible.

Most of his scars are on his chest and back from battles of long ago, though he does have a scar across the top of his right hand extending from where the thumb connects to the palm – curved around his hand – and stops about 2 inches from where the scar started, on his wrist. Some say it looks like a crescent moon, others a serpent coiled around his hand. His students would gladly inform anyone that asks that whatever reason he gave as to the scar is a lie, for he tends to come up with a different story almost every time, often recycling various elements. On some days this scar his hidden by a bandage-type wrap that has strange symbols written upon it.

Hideaki wears clothing very similar to that of what he’d wear in his homeland: a simple tunic with a high collar, coupled with loose-fitting trousers. Over this, a robe of sorts denoting his inclusion into the realm of mystics. Despite his advanced age, he does not require a walking stick or staff as both his body and his magical prowess are still in good condition and focus.

Picture:

[Pat Morita]

Personality: Hideaki is a watchful fellow and tends to say only what is necessary when he deems it necessary, though some lengthier, more sociable conversation could be coaxed from him without much trouble. He likes to tell stories and recite proverbs, and one can tell that despite living in Alrania for quite some time he still hasn’t gotten rid of his accent. Some hobbies of his include fishing, the game of go, the martial arts, and meditation. As stated earlier, Hideaki has seen war. He’s also fought in his fair share of them, too... against soldiers and other mystics allied with a cause he was against.

It takes quite a while, or quite an injustice, to stir his anger to a boiling point. When this happens, it is by no means a pretty sight. A secretive man, he will generally try to simply remain silent and ignore the source of his frustration in an attempt to keep peace intact. However, Hideaki also knows that there is a time for peace and a time for war... the only difficulty lies in choosing which path to take when. The Mystic does possess a darker side... and to the keen observer there is an odd connection between his moods and the days in which the bandage is plied to his hand...

Overall, however, Hideaki is polite and friendly – though initially wary – unless he views you as a threat.

History: Hikeaki hails from a land known as Ikanawo, quite a ways from Kabawak but still relatively close. He was born into a family that prided themselves on fishing, and fighting. When he began displaying magical talents at a young age, the family did all they could to support his education yet took it upon themselves to make certain their son learned the skills of melee combat as well as the arcane. When he came of age he was immediately sent off to the military as a ‘warwizard’.

It was during the second war he was in that he received the nasty cut on his right hand. He had been given it by a rival mystic that stood for motives Hideaki was very much against, and is no ordinary cut. Cursed was the blade that cut his skin, and cursed the wound has been for about one-third of his life. The only way Hideaki has found to keep the curse under control is to wrap it in a white bandage with runes and a written spell woven into the cloth.

At present, he is the leading magician at the Gyld Arcanus, or Wizard’s Guild. The previous Guildmaster passed away, though no one seems to know the details. Because he was the next eldest resident at the guildhall, Hideaki has taken up the responsibility of maintaining the guild and good relations with King Oberon... After all, without Oberon’s approval and funding they would not have prospered quite as much as they have.