Do NOT post in this thread unless you have an approved character sheet for this roleplay!

The Link Back to the OOC is located here: Sword of the Abandoned-Revival OOC





MAP OF FIRITHIA









PLACES OF IMPORTANCE


Major Kingdoms


Nor- The grandest human city in Firithia, it sits in the grassland plains of the northwest. With its glittering stone walls and a soft ocean, it is reasonably a beautiful place to live, though is fortified and deadly all the same. They guard the crypt to the north.

Durnag- Dwarves take residency here in the Mines of Durnag, constantly digging deeper within the earth for their precious gems. Once the underground halls beneath their crypt ran dry of glittering stones, they abandoned the crypt and took to the cold Mountains in the southwest.

Alastair- Exclusive and lavish, the city of Alastair to the south east is perhaps the most advanced of all the races. Elves protect both the forest and the ocean in which they hold sacred. It is rare if a human is ever allowed to pass within its borders. They guard the crypt to the south.


Cities


Meadowsmead – The strange race of hobbits live in the hills of Meadowsmead to the south, normally left alone and unbothered by other races. They have a great adulation for partying and eating.

Reavers- These winged folk are otherwise known as Atavians, and are sometimes mistaken for ‘angels’. Secluding themselves from the rest of the world, they live on the Island of the Reavers to the west, in a city of tall towers that are said to reach the clouds. While the Atavians hide, no other race has ever stepped foot on their island, and are rare to be seen anywhere else in Firithia.


Wastelands

The wastelands to the north east take up a large piece of Firithia, and are the remaining ruins of what was Lord Varian’s city. Now, few travelers of any dare to move into the swamplands and dead forests of the kingdom. Those who do, never return.




RACES


Playable

Humans- Humans are the most adaptable of any race, able to live in any climate, can be any class, and perform tasks where others might fail. Other races tend to underestimate the human. Their appearance, skin color, height, and weight differ to any one being. They live up to 100 years.

Dwarves- Dwarves are stout and hardy mountain dwellers, able to withstand even the coldest of climates. Their classes are usually melee because of their strong arms and robust bodies. Some though can find ways to perform bits of magic, usually ice. Dwarves normally stand at around 4 feet in height, and live up to 400 years.

Hobbits- Hobbits are soft and easygoing, preferring to party, eat, and enjoy life than do anything that would require serious dedication. Normally left alone, Hobbits don’t mind to keep to themselves, but can be loyal and passionate. These creatures can take up magic professions, as well as scouting. While standing on average underneath 4 feet, these creatures can live up to 120 years.

Elves- Elves are the fairest of any race, wise and intelligent. Their classes differ between rangers, druids, swordsmen, or assassins. Elves tend to keep to themselves, rarely allowing others to pass through their kingdoms or near neighboring woods, and is just as uncommon for them to venture out of their own cities. This race can live up to 1500 years or so.

Atavians- Atavians are easily compared to angels, as they have long feathered wings emerging from their backs. These creatures almost never make contact with other beings, therefore are left alone and hidden on their island, although others are completely aware of their existence. Atavians pursue the art of magic, and melee fighters of this race are rare to find as they are not particularly strong, though this is not to say that there are not any. Atavians live up to 800 years.


Unplayable

Dark Elves, (The Huine)- Elves who are not considered as beautiful as their Elven siblings. Dark Elves have thick skin, more akin to leather. This varies in shades or blues and purples. Males stand around 5 feet, 10 inches, while females on average stand about 5 feet, 6 inches. These creatures eyes are as black as night, and their mouths are filled with hundreds of little sharp teeth. They love nothing more than to torture the living.

Orcs- These beings are large disfigured humanoid creatures, and tower over most humans at about 6 feet, 7 inches. Orcs have armor like leather skin, are incredibly strong, and are more intelligent than most settlers of Firithia give credit to. However, these creatures are known to be incredibly ruthless warriors, and are portrayed as barbarians. They love to take trophies of their victims, such as skulls and other trinkets, as a mean to show power and status within their tribes. Those they take captive are even more unlucky, and are brutalized mercilessly until death.

Undead- The undead are simply that, the decaying dead reanimated once more. Necromancy is a form of magic that few are willing to take up because of its dark properties. From what is understood, to summon the dead you must create some form of life to take up the empty vessel once more. Malacay does so by drawing energy from the underworld and other living souls. This energy creates a deformed spirit to fill the vessel, though many would argue these are not actually spirits. However, these souls are filled with anguish and a hatred for all unsuffering life. Therefore they will kill anything in their path.

First Name: Venser
Last Name: Halimar
Age: 19
Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weaponry: Wears a customized gauntlet on his left hand that houses a poison-coated switch blade. He isn't strong enough to wield anything else.

Magic: Specializes in illusion, and has shown some skill in simple telepathy. Venser can create illusions to completely fool all the senses. However Venser must remain completely focused on the illusion he is creating, for as soon as his concentration breaks, so does the illusion.

His telepathic abilities are limited to projecting his thoughts into others and hearing what a person is consciously thinking at the time. He requires direct eye contact to hear others thoughts.

Venser can also teleport short distances, he has no control over this ability and it only occurs during moments of extreme panic and comes at great expense to both his body and mind.

Appearance:

Personality: Venser is a distant individual who's thirst for knowledge is near insatiable and has gotten him into trouble countless times. Prefers subtly and style over power.

He is holds a calm and confident aura about him when interacting with others. While he sees most living things as expendable tools that he can use for his own purposes, there are a few people he truly cares about and would do anything to protect.

Venser rarely speaks more than a whisper, but will raise his voice if angered.

Back story: Venser is a magical prodigy that was born into a stable family in the kingdom of Nor. He grew up as the younger of the three children in the family. His father was always out working to support the family, and as a consequence Venser grew up with very little masculine influence in his life.

One day while playing a guessing game with his two older sisters, Venser was caught cheating by a passing magic teacher who remarked at his abilities and offered to teach him in the magical arts. Venser's mother was never particularly fond of him and quickly agreed to send Venser away with the teacher, much to the dismay of his sisters, who loved him dearly.

Venser's time with his teacher remains a mystery. But it is clear he returned much more powerful and distant than when he left. What happened during that time is only rumor and speculation.

Extra: His eyes flash different shades of blue, depending on his mood.

First Name: Meltairnaroma 'Mel'
Last Name: Ironthumbs
Age: 121 appears to be in her early 20's
Gender: Female

Race: Dwarf

Weaponry: Her main weapon is a compact Arbalester Crossbow. The grip is made up of sturdy oak as the bow itself is made of pliable yew wood, both enchanted for durability. Gorgon's-hair makes up the draw-string, another piece providing fair resistance against damage. The bow is plated with a thin layer of gold and the grip has golden trimmings of Mel's family crest across it. She has a quiver holding roughly fifty bolts at a time, each tipped with holy water just in case the undead appear. Her secondary weapon is a small enchanted pickaxe that will create a small burst of flame on whatever it touches, an excellent tool for both smiting and mining in this dwarf's opinion.
Magic: Unlike most dwarves, Mel was born with the magical aptitude to maniulate fire, not ice. This magical power is limited though, as she cannot directly manifest it. The abilities come in the forms of high-heat tolerance, increased resistance to burning, and the ability to make explosives out of small objects. The longer she takes to pour her magical energy into an object, the bigger the explosion. The targetted object for the spell can be no larger than a sack of grain.

Appearance: Mel keeps her hair tied to the side in a short tail, and usually dons leather armor and a dark brown cloak.

Personality: Silent and stern like most of her kind. This particular dwarf is a big fan of the 'actions speak louder than words' philosophy, and holds kinship and friendship in high regard. She does like jokes quite a bit...almost as much as a good mug of ale. Almost. For some reason Mel has never shown any romantic interest in anyone, not man, woman nor orc.
Back story: Not too much to know here. Meltairnaroma was born in Durnag into a small house of dwarven bowmen known as the Ironthumbs, and her name means 'The flower of long thorns' in dwarvish. Like her four brothers and two sisters, she was taught to use long-ranged weaponry, including bows, crossbows, throwing axes and throwing daggers as well as artillery like ballistae. In time, Mel set off on her own to make a name for herself. Over her century of life, she has loved and lost as many have, and learned a great deal about the world. Now Meltairnaroma has arrived in Nor...

Extra: "Do not. Touch. My bow."

First Name: Fong
Last Name: Liu-Wen
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Weaponry: Made of thick and durable steel, the Hooks Swords(Tiger Hooks) are a very exotic eastern weapon due to it's unique design and use. To begin with, take a normal katana. Look at the tip. Unlike a Katana, the top part of the hook sword is a 'U'-like curve that is used for tripping or locking a weapon or person. Also, unlike a katana, there is no crosspiece, but a curved crescent crossguard that is used for blocking and can also be sharpened for slashing as well. The end of the hilt of a Hook sword is sharpened into spear heads or daggers, giving it another angle to stab the enemy. Does it end here? Not so. The Hooks can be loosely linked and swung to extend the range of the swords to about six feet, where the sharpened ends can cut straight through flesh. Both sides of the blade are sharpened, and the hilt is wrapped in a layer of cloth and black leather for a safe place to hold onto the swords.



Fon is also able to use a special type of martial arts known as Hung Gar, using latent strength in the waist and knowledge of body mechanics to bring down his foes easily, and beat them to a pulp.

Appearance: Fon has a slender body with thick, lean muscle. Though small of stature, about 5'6, he shows a certain solidity in his stance that gives off a self-assured air. His head is angled, sharp, and hawk-like. His face is shadowed by a tangle of medium-length black hair around his head, shortening slightly around his forehead. His eyes are a dull and muddy brown, full of a innate sense of calm. His lips are pressed tightly and seem bloodless, and he has a few scars along both his arms as a result of training with his weapon.



He wears a Changshan, a long, robe-like torso shirt that cuts off at the waist and sides while the front and back flaps continue down to his ankles. The sleeves are long, and are rolled back multiple times to show his hands. The collar is slightly thick and surrounding most of his neck apart from the front, and is laced by strips of intricate rope to secure the front. The cuffs and collar of his Changshan are a creamy white while the base color is a light red. The ropes securing the front dip are a dull black. A dark leather belt is snapped around his waist, attached to the belt are some small pouches used for holding various things. His pants are a slightly mottled white with signs of yellow around the knees that reveal that it has been used a lot. It is baggy around the majority of his legs, but tighten up at his ankle to prevent any sort of accident by tripping over his pants. He wears comfortable woolen traveling socks on his feet and thin, black training shoes with a white trimming. The soles are thick, and have no real laces to secure the feet.

Personality: Completely calm, Fon relies on wordplay and smiles to get him through speaking with people. He enjoys pondering, and often loses himself while sitting in a seat because he is thinking about some abstract question that others mistake him for a pilgrim that is meditating. He often speaks formally, even to those who he considers a friend and has a slight contempt for the illiterate. Though patient, he has little regard for waiting despite his tolerance. He is bored easily, and rarely gets angry. There is a gap in his moods, because you cannot get Fon angry, you can only get a cold hate from him- skipping straight past flushing red and yelling. Often, when you get to the point where he abhors you, it is very hard to appease him. He enjoys training and reading.

Back story: Fong was born serious, studious, and stoic. His parent's often commented on how he almost never cried as a child, and how he mostly spent his time reading books in his younger days. Being silent and somewhat easy to pick on, the local villager's kids (quite the brutes,) started bullying him. Much to their dismay, he portrayed little or no emotional disturbance to it, but rather walked home with cuts and bruises with a calm face, nose buried in a book. He was self-educated, going to great lengths to acquire good informational books or pamphlets. Soon, he took up martial arts: Hung Gar. For several years, he postponed his studies, taking up the strong, stance-focused style of Hung Gar. After becoming a jack-of-all-trades in most weapons, he eyed the Hook Swords. By the time he was 18, Fong had left with a strong body and a master of the Tiger Hooks. He continued to pursue information, training daily yet finding time to crack open a book and scan its contents before bed. His town became cluttered and claustrophobic over the years.

At the age of 22, he decided to leave home, after his mother was taken by the seasonal illness and his father retiring to a home in the far reaches of town. It would be better learning if he experienced it first-hand through travel. A year passed, two years, but yet he never found a partner. He was too engrossed in his studies, becoming a incredibly knowledgeable man for his age. Suffering through his little town when he was young, he had a sense of wisdom like none other 25 year old's had. Some compared him to an elf, but more dark than a real one. Disappearing was his specialty, being the stoic young man he was- he never remained in one's mind or memory for more than a day.

---

---

First Name: Morgarath
Last Name: Nor
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Weaponry: Morgarath holds the Jiujieban, or the nine-linked whip. A metal whip consisting of nine metal segments, about 2 and a half inches long. Not including the last link or the handle, which are fashioned differently. The handle fits one hand, a mere cylinder of metal that is wrapped up in black cloth with red trimmings at the end that expand from the edges of the whip. The pommel is a round discus that can cover his hand if anyone ever gets within his guard so he can strike them. The last link is more like a speartip. It's rounded on the sides, but ends in a sharp mace-like spike that can slash or puncture through steel if given the chance.

Appearance: Shaggy black hair with the same cold eyes his older brother Malacay has. His face is sharp, holding a slight angry expression with a thin mouth that can either be in a menacing grin or fierce scowl. His skin is slightly tanned due to all the work he does outdoors, and he has a lean body with a slightly compact composure built for battle.



His armor is fairly simple. Two worn, white and light shoulder pads rest on his shoulders, the bands that hold them together connect at his chest in a X formation, which is also pale. The bands connect to a thick white buckled belt at his waist. Under his straps and shoulderpads, he wears a light brown long coat, a single line of thick buttons connecting coat down to the waist where it abruptly ends. The collar stands erect in a two-step pattern at the ends. Under his trench coat is a light tunic, pure white. On his knees are and elbows are also discolors, very light pads that protect his body from scraping too hard against the ground or cushioning blows at his joints. Over his legs is a pair of black traveling pants, durable yet light. On his feet are woolen socks, and over that are dark brown traveling boots, thick laced and soled. The fabric was tempered to a point where it could flex far without tearing or weakening the leathers.

Personality: Morgarath has a air of cool, logical and calm that surrounds him. He thinks fast, but often thinks too much and likes to use wordplay that leaves his correspondents confused. His form of humor comes in sarcastic and witty remarks, and his anger is a quiet, cold stare that burns abnormally bright with hate. His usual demeanor is dismissal, slightly blunt, and his thinking is usually instinctive or thought out, depending on the situation. He is easily confused by abstract ideas.

Extra: Younger brother of Malacay, forced to tag along by his older brother on his mad campaign for conquest.

§

First Name: Maylia (May for short)
Last Name: Fahlehn
Age: 200 (appears as 20)
Gender: Female

Race: Atavian

Weaponry: Always carries a staff with the end sharpened to a point--it can be used also like a spear. Also, hidden in her arm bands are tiny daggers that can be easily withdrawn should her staff be out of reach. Their points are sharp enough even to pierce the strongest armor but thin as a piece of glass.
Magic: For her race, she never had much of a head for spells and magic and can only cast basic healing spells and the occasional wind magic. Nothing special or overly powerful--but the wind magic can help should she decide to take flight and make a charge.

Appearance:

Personality: For the most part, Maylia keeps to herself--and speaks very little unless necessary. She is not shy--just dislikes contact with others. It is not unlike her to ignore questions posed to her that she feels are unnecessary and she doesn't care if she is thought of as rude for doing so. She rarely smiles--and tends to have a rather blank expression on her face as if she is always in deep thought or half asleep. But don't let this mild behavior fool you--cross her and you will be able to taste the rage in the air. She dislikes people who speak too much, and even more so dislikes braggarts. She will break her self-imposed silence to put the ignorant in their place. She also shows a strange warmth and gentleness towards children, plants and animals--that she will give to no one else.

Back story: The island was a paradise for her people. It had all a winged being could evre want--kinfolk, markets, fruits of all colors and sizes, breath taking views, open sky...why would they ever want to leave? Maylia knew she hadn't wanted to. As she walks amongst the humans of Nor, and weaves past wandering elves and other beings--she grows cold. But after slaying a member of the royal family in cold blood--she had little other choice but to flee from her home. Maylia had been among the best non-magical warriors on the island, had practiced her sparring and parrying--using her staff much like a skilled swordsman would use a sword. And he had taken an interest in her fierce battle trained grace. She had only been a gaurd--assigned to protect him. She had loved him--and thought he had returned this love. But for the sake of politics he married another royal blooded female..and left her empty and cold. She hadn't meant to kill him. She had only wanted to talk--but he hadn't even given her the time of day. And then--the next thing she knew--she was covered in his blood, and shouts were ringing from courtyard to courtyard, from ground to sky. They would kill her for sure. And in her cowardice she fled. Now, she knows she can never return for risk of death--and wanders amongst the people of Nor, always in a hooded cloak, hiding her face as if in shame.

Extra: "Hell Hath no Fury like a Woman Scorned."

First Name: Greyn
Last Name: Feirback
Age: 25
Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weaponry: Recurve Longbow with a quiver of thirty arrows and three armor piercing arrows, Dual sheath carrying a shortsword and dagger(Concealing it to be a standerd longsword.)
Magic: Greyn can cast a few nature-based spells, most that primarily assist him in concealment and few in attacking. Such magic usually focuses on creating a tree or assisting in hiding, but can also include hardening the edges of leaves to be razor sharp or summoning an animal to assist him.

Appearance:

Personality: Greyn loves the woodlands, and with it comes a dislike to cities and their inhabitants. Usually quiet and reserved, Greyn speaks with general unease and rarely makes any true friends, just allies with favors. Even then Greyn holds on the his morals and while normally soft-spoken, is not afraid to go against anyone if they conflict with his beliefs. He despises disrespect and offers loyalty to those who've earned it.
Back story: Not much is known about Greyn. Seemingly appearing from nowhere he took up residence in the woodlands between Meadowsmead and the village, but has been known to travel to other locations for trade or personal vengence on those that defile his woodlands. other then his name and birthplace(A traveller recognized him as a boy from the wastelands) nothing else was given for now leaving the questionably hunter feared as a spy.

Extra: Greyn carries a small woven bracelet on his left arm.

First Name: Seth
Last Name: Kyza
Age: Appears to be in the mid 20's actual age is 221
Gender: Male

Race: Atavian

Weaponry: Bow, reinforced so that it may be used as a staff if close range combat is necessary. Also Carries a large axe (see extras for details)

Magic: Extremely skilled with creative uses of wind magic. Does not use the brute force spells (like tornadoes) that other wind masters commonly do, but he is capable of holding his own against those same masters through more imaginative methods. Seth is capable of doing other elements of magic, though his proficiency is not as high. Seth has an unusual skill with earth elemental for a wind master, but is no where near mastering earth.

Appearance: Seth is about 6 feet tall with a thin, wiry build. He typically wears a long white robe with a pale green layer that extends from his left shoulder to the right side of his waist and back to the left side of the robe near his left foot. It is attached by small bronze clasps inlaid with small jade fragments on the shoulder and hip. He wears a simple leather belt underneath the robe to which he attaches his quiver.He stands out (besides the wings) for his bright green hair and deep emerald eyes.

Personality: When comfortable, he is likely to be rowdy and boisterous, unlike most Atavians. In delicate situations, he is reserved and very calm with a face absolutely impossible to read. He is capable of being extremely tactful and is always careful to avoid open confrontation when possible.

Back story: At one time he was the Reaven ambassador to the Kingdom of Durnag. During his time as ambassador he became a little too relaxed as ambassador and was replaced by the Reavers, who were dissatisfied with his newfound casual attitude. Rather than staying put on the island as was expected of him, he moved in with the dwarves and became an advisor to the king of Durnag. Seth has traveled to Nor in order to visit the ambassador there (a distant relative of his).

Extra: Battle Axe was a gift form the king while Seth was ambassador. He is not particularly skilled with it, though he does train in an effort to improve his physical stamina (and therefore magical capabilities). He has been taught magic by the Dwarve's best mages in earth and ice magic. He took to ice more readily than earth, but even so is more skilled with earth magic then the average wind magic based Atavian.

Withdrawn

•Character Sheets

First Name: Otomo
Last Name: Tromiel
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weaponry: At all times he carries on his person a battle scythe, five and a half feet in length. The haft is of a tempered ash, heated and then cooled several times to strengthen it against sword or axe blows. Viciously sharp the blade itself ends in a cruel hook-point that can be used for both stabbing and the forceful dismount of a charging horseman. Slashed, stabbed, or disemboweled Otomo leaves it up to his foes to choose their means.

(Except much cooler...And with Fire...Cold Fire... :D)

Magic: Otomo is magically challenged. He has no idea why. He cannot cast spells or aid in any form of magic. Even attempting to speak telepathically to him is impossible due to an unknown force preventing it. Spells of the offensive type will still harm him, actually they'll harm him to a greater degree due to his not having any magical tolerance at all. Defensive spells placed as wards to protect him would end up doing more harm to him than good. Magic and Otomo just don't agree.

Appearance: Otomo stands at a solid five feet and eight inches, he's lanky and lean without much of compact muscle. Endurance is his strong point rather than strength, lasting in fights much longer than opponents that plan to overpower what they believe to be a slight frame. Brown curly hair covers his head, turning darker or lighter depending on the weather. He's always squinting, whether due to bad eyesight or a desire to observe closely he has yet to divulge. Deep scars run along his jawline covered by a full beard.


Personality: Otomo is of a quiet, country stock. Mostly keeping to himself but not afraid to shout from the rooftops his opinions if need be, especially after downing a few pints. Not exactly charismatic but he has a tendency to pull groups together in times of danger, acting as a solid backbone where most others tend to falter. That's not to say he's without his weaknesses, he's extremely fearful of heights and enclosed spaces tend to kick logic and its entire family to the curb. Large crowds unnerve him but it isn't a detriment to his functionality, he just becomes slightly more irritable and shout-y.

Back story: Raised in a small farming town Otomo was looking forward to a tranquil life of herding the sheep and the harvest season. And it was exactly that...to an extent. He got an itch deep in his mind watching the sheep wander to and fro on the pasture as they grazed. Aimless. No further goal than to fill their bellies and then sleep. Possibly leave manure if that fit into the schedule. Gazing at the clouds (as the best ideas always seem to come from watching those transient objects) he came to the conclusion that farm life was not for him. At least not yet.
Packing what few belongings he had and sharpening his scythe with the family whetstone he departed the little hamlet. Searching for his own personal legend, to leave a mark on the land that was more than a few sheep droppings and a bumper harvest every now and again.

Extra: "There are three ways to shear a sheep, whether they pertain to the here and now remains to be seen."

First Name: Shinn/Azuma (different name due to different “person”…will explain more in the bio)
Last Name: Aster
Age: 250 appears 25
Gender: ….this is difficult…uhh..umm….male?

Race: Atavians

Weaponry:
His primary weapon is a long metal staff that has a special ability to extend up to 8 feet, while still retaining the same weight due to the special gloves that he wear. The gloves have special mana particles that interact with the particles in the staff. Due to this, he can lift the staff with ease no matter how long it is. This can also backfire because without the gloves, the staff would double in weight, making it difficult for the wielder to carry. The staff original length is 4 feet and is usually seen on his back.

Though his staff skills are above average, it is by far not his best weaponry. Attach to his left waist, is a arming long sword which is where his power lies. The blade itself is made of a very unique metal that changes colors depending on the situation (later explain in magic). The blade is thinner than the average sword to cut back wind resistance, but it is not suited for dead-lock combat usually relying on quick thrust rather than trying to out power his enemy. He is a better at using his sword rather than his staff, though by no mean is he the best, but due to his stamina, he cannot rely on solely his physical combat skills in long term battle.

Magic:
The magic he uses is mainly tactical sort of magic and does not rely on the destructive side of magic. He can use a variety of magic that he deemed “can give him an advantage” in battle. Whether it be the ability to allow his eyes to focus on more than one object and his mind to be able to follow his eyesight, which allow him to create a sort of 3-D mapping. He also use many supportive spells primarily to increase his speed ( not just actual speed like running fast, but also reaction time, thought processing etc). A unique spell that he knows is to make images of him that cannot be strike physically nor can they strike back. The spell however acts like sentry for him giving him a better mapping of the battleground as well as confusing his enemy. He can make, as of currently, a maximum of 5 and each can retain itself for up to 30 second (a minute if he focuses hard enough). He favors light magic and uses many of its supportive arts, he does not have any destructive light magic.

His true magic however resides in his sword and he only uses it when he is deperate. First and foremost, his sword is allow to change the form of its blade to whatever needed as long as it retains its orignal mass. The actual truth is his sword is a seal that restrain his alter ego, Azuma, from emerging and when it is release, Azuma will take over along with a new style of fighting. Azuma is not, in his words, "a mouse" like Shinn. He does not hold back and is a much more agressive and destructive fighter than Shinn.

“Magic that is not to be underestimated and it first use always betray its destructive power”. He does not use all-powerful spell that consumes a lot of mana, he rather use small spells that add up to equal destructive power as a high level spell. This can be a double-edge sword because even if it conserve mana, it takes much more skill and the ability to think ahead of his enemy to chain up spells.

He has a little of all elements knowing at least a spell in each, but excel dark (Azuma) magic. Due to the relationship between these two, they do not share power and while Shinn can use light magic expertly, Azuma cannot and vice versa.Azuma, despite being able to become a expert magic user, relies on a balance of both sword and magic skill like Shinn, he is not strong like most fighter, but can keep up with even the fastest of enemies.

Shinn’s also retain a special magic that allow him to keep control of most of his mind so to put the restraint back on if he needs to.[/quote]

Appearance: Shinn and Azuma takes on different appearances due to the same reason as there magic, in which Shinn fear Azuma and Azuma despises Shinn.

Shinn
http://i52.photobucket.com/albums/g26/k ... 9_151b.jpg

Azuma
http://i416.photobucket.com/albums/pp24 ... 51NUUj.jpg


Personalities:

Shinn’s
Unlike his race, Shinn is known to be very caring and helpful to, not only his race, but other races as well. He is known to be a laid-back kind of person that seems to have no attachment to worldly affairs. He is also a hardcore pacifist and tries to exhaust all other means before resolving to fight. He tends to try to stay out of trouble if he can and is also known to be quite a flirt. Despite this attitude, he secretly keeps minimal distance from others due to his other self. He is also very intelligent and is usually underestimated because of his personality.
In battle he is known to be quite calm and this is usually where his intellect starts to shine.

Azuma's
On the off chance that Azuma overcome Shinn’s restrain on him and takes over completely, his personality is similar yet drastically different in many ways; He is still as lazy as Shinn and does not care about worldly affairs either. This is where the similarity ends, Azuma is, to put it short, a cold-blooded cruel and merciless demon (hence his name). He can throw away lives with ease and look down on everyone else. He simply fight for that very reason, to fight. He still retain the calmness that Shinn have in battle, but his method of fighting if far more destructive.

Back story:
Shinn was born where all other Atavians was born, in the island of Reaver and live a somewhat normal life. Ever since he was a child, Shinn had known to change personality and appearance constantly. He had no way of controlling or prevents this and due to his Azuma’s personality, he was deemed a monster by his parents and was abandoned.

At the age of 50 (still only look about 5 ish) , all traits of Azuma seem to disappeared and he was able to finally make friends instead of locking himself up. He also started to learn magic at this age, mainly light. He managed to live a happy life and even managed to find his first love, but that would soon change…

At the age 100 (10), Azuma personality suddenly reappeared as if it had reawakened. Due to him letting his guard down, Azuma was able to take a hold of his mind and gain control of him. Azuma planned this the whole time, and planned to keep control and leave Reaver. Azuma biggest mistake, however, was killing Shinn’s first love, and this allowed him to regain control because of his bursting emotion.

Shinn decided he was a monster himself and left Reaver to learn all he can to prevent his other self from escaping.

Shinn’s Story
I regret what I done and wish I could change the past, but I know it is not possible… Instead, I decided to isolate myself from others until I can completely control my own body. I do not want to cause any more harm to others. Azuma…my other self is a demon…I must not let him free again. I swear one day…I will rid myself of him…I will rid him from this world...It’s the least I can do for her.



Azuma’s Story
Damn I was so close! I was almost freed, if it weren’t for that woman. I am supposed to be in control of this body, damn it all! Shinn…have fun with MY body for now…I swear I will regain it and I will make sure to let you watch me killing those you love once more. I despise you Shinn, a man that does not deserve to live, you are too kind. Just wait one day Shinn, I will destroy you!!

Extra: Azuma, despite being able to become a expert magic user, relies more on his swordsmanship and speed. He is able to read at immense speed that can instill pressure to his enemy, it is said that when he run, he is like a ghost unmatchable by anyone. Shinn also carries a necklace that is invaluable in his eyes, and he will, as of currently, never part ways with it.

First Name: Lyxander Lyrazel
Last Name: Lisianthius
Nick Name: Sia, Alex, Strings
Age: 24, though he appears to be 6 years younger.
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Fighting Style: Adept in both Gou'terriere and Ornath's reed with some experience with a Ophipe, Sia descended from the generation of bards and troubadours who played to nobles before him, was born with the natural gift in regards to song and poem. Though the ways of the Gypsy people may be crude to some degree, Alex's passion is evident in the words he utters, filled to the brim with lyrical prowess that even birds sing to his tune. Well...maybe that last part was a bit exaggerated.

But facing the perils ahead, a Darcsen Gypsy wanders not unarmed. In fact, the Darcsen Gypsy can be viewed as a jack of all trades: he can damage from afar with the mastery of his Sling, dancing across the battlefield weaving through attacks and doubles as the healer with knowledge of Herbal medicine passed down from generation to generation.Finally, where man had learned to make weapons of stones, Darcsen had learned to make weapons of lyric and song.

Their jests provoking sensitive and arrogant enemies towards traps set before them, to raising a boisterous ruckus to disrupt the concentration of Rangers and Mages alike, the Darcsen bard is like no other in the sense it embodies the Darcsen people's heritage and the growing need for a generalist in the easily adaptable tides of battle.

Picture: [Appearance] + Specifications from the Appearance section.

Appearance: One mistake commonly commited by those who do not know Alex is the mistake of hitting on him. Done right and viewed from a specific angle, many would consider the young Gypsy to be more of a flat chested female rather than a male. Yes, wearing earrings is seen as a way of warding away evil spirits in travels. Usually leaving his hair to flow to his chest above the height of 5 foot 9 inches, Alex possesses a feminine touch both in his acrobatic grace and smile. The term "Pett'ankha", or 'Beautiful male' in Elesian (The native language of the Darcsen) best describes him. His eyes, as deep blue as the ocean itself compliments him best with his ever present smile, warmly entertaining his patrons with the gift of song.

Personality: He's so polite that it even bugs other people. Of course, the nobility doesn't mind this, considering Lyre always tries to humble himself and do every bit of mannerisms to anyone regardless of rank, much to some comedic effect. Other than that, his easy going nature and naivete is something that makes him a bit too gullible. Even though he knows that someone may be tricking him or not, he never loses faith in others, believing that there is always a shred of good in everyone. Which of course makes him the punching bag of jokes around any crowd, of course.

Back story: Born to Naiyu Lyrazel Lisianthius, he felt only the hands of the Elders and his Father caress his cheek upon birth, for the passing of his mother was indeed the most unfortunate event in his father's life. Raised apart from the traditional Darcsen culture, his days were marked learning of Lore from every corner of the world, of heroes and their star crossed lovers, of tragedies that befell the aforementioned warriors of fate. Though, that didn't stop him from spending time with his father, whose lap he sat on during cold winter nights, listening to the sound of his lyre play, the howl of wolves complimenting his skillful play.

From the day he was initiated as an Adolescent to the Darcsen, Alex aspired to travel, as every bard aspires to. Though his father lamented of the dangers before him, a reluctant Alex wandered into the roads less travelled, as must all Bards do: to spend their days alone with nature, to further their affinity with nature. Sleeping under the stars and the shades of trees amidst typhoons, both awe and wonder inspired him to write of lyrics that marvelled at the world before him and of the lost loves that shattered the hearts of Heroes, something both sword and Arrow could not do.

Traveling deep into the Kingdom of Nor, there he won the hearts of the lesser nobles whom he played. As his reputation within the circle of the lesser nobles grew, so did his burning passion for the woman he loved: The Countess Marcella Oslo, a woman he found so alluring that the young bard, usually sharp and attentive, would almost always be caught musing to himself, stopping in the middle of his more romantic pieces simply imagining his hands holding to her own. Winning over her heart with his song and modest personality, it were the stalwart barrier of heritage that he could not scale. Who was crazy enough to marry off his daughter, a Countess at that, to a man of common rank and a Gypsy?

Deeply heartbroken and offended, Alex pined himself away in the woods, singing songs of broken love that even made trees droop in sadness. (Again, exaggeration) However, news about the missing Shard soon reached the amateur hermit. The promises of glory and the gratitude of a nation outweighed the possibility of death or even worse, capture. Vowing to one day marry his beloved Duchess, he set off into lands he knew not about, eager on his quest to retrieve the Shard and the appreciation of an entire nation.

Other: He speaks in Old Common (Shakespearean) when he's trying to impress or preform his service to others and refers to anyone with respect regardless of Race or Rank.

Repertoire:

A day in my Life
Harvest Festival
Home Coming
The Unthinkable Natural Law
Casket of the Stars
The Path least Trodden
Where Danger lurks
Promised Land, Rela Siel
The Goddess of Victory
To Fight the Fate that binds

Tid bit on Magic:

The Darcsen take pride in their Music. Their legends speak of musics that even made trees sway to their melodies and of Gods that wept from hearing of their saddening tunes. It was believed much of their unique Arcane art was transcribed into their own music, passed from generation to generation through a rite of passage into Adulthood.

Where Magi bent their minds to adhere to the limitations of the Arcane Artes, the Darcsen bent the Arcane Artes to adhere to their discipline. Traditionally, a Magi's training involved the development of a sound mind that was able to focus through the incantation and thus made Magi susceptible to distractions of sorts depending on the discipline and experience of the Magi, instead the Darcsen adapted the Arcane language to their Music, allowing them to play otherwise long incantations in a mere series of notes played from their ancestral instrument, the Gou'Terriere (Guitar) , Ornath's Whistle (A Flute) or Ophipe (Rudimentary Bagpipes) in what they call "Arcane Lyricals" , from basic "Monolyrical" spells to the more complex "Decalyrical" spells. A lyric refers to a collection of 8 Notes, each note representing a syllable in the incantation, with a minimum of 8 to a maximum of 80 syllables. Therein lies the advantage of the Arcane Lyricals: a sufficiently skilled bard is able to play each Lyrical with haste depending on the Bard's skill; the Darcsen can cast spells without the need to be stationary and easily distracted: the world is the Bard's playground.

Despite this major advantage, the Darcsen was faced with a few setbacks: due to the shortened nature of their Arcane lyrics, the Bard is unable to learn sophisticated spells since the Incantation would most likely exceed 80 syllables. While the Darcsen bard is granted full mobility while playing their Arcane Lyrical, the spell itself is not cast until the Bard finishes the song.Should they make but one mistake, the Incantation ends and he must start all over again. Since the Darcsen venerate Music as a gift from the Gods, not everyone could learn the art of the Arcane Lyricals: only the sons and daughters of previous Bards, raised solely to play Heavenly music, can learn it. The Rite of Passage to become an adult is to leave their village with very little possessions to 'sharpen their affinity with Nature, the Great provider' , expected to live by themselves and their wits to survive in a world they knew not about. As a result, very few Bards ever return to become Dream Weavers, Bards deemed worthy to learn and play the Music that pleased the Gods.


Monolyrical - Quick spells, "Magic Missile Category" (Active)
Bilyrical - Stronger Monolyrical Spell (Passive)
Trilyrical - One of the Four basic elements to the Monolyrical spell (Passive)
Quadrelyrical - Basic Bolster Ballads (Ballad)
Pentalyrical - Basic Debuff Ballads (Ballad)
Hexalyrical - Adds 3 Magic missiles to the Monolyrical spell (Passive)
Heptalyrical - Augments Ballad effectiveness (Passive)
Octalyrical - Advanced Bolster Ballads (Ballad)
Nonalyrical - Advanced Debuff Ballads (Ballad)
Decalyrical - Forbidden spells; Cannot be learned unless Dream Weaver state

Active: Typical chant for use.

Passive: Augments a previous Lyrical. If a greater number Lyrical buffs a lower number Lyrical, then the greater Lyrical is recited. All lower level Passives carry if the Bard is at a higher Lyrical level. (For example, if the Bard reaches the Hexalyrical level, then that bard must play the aforementioned level to cast 4 Magic missiles as the benefit from the Hexalyrical. Playing the Monolyrical only launches 1 Magic missile)

Ballad: Short songs used in the Battlefield to bolster or debuff his allies. It's effectiveness is determined by the Character's personality and ultimately the RPer: if a person is stoic and does not appreciate Music, then the Ballad has little or no effect. Works on NPCs in battle, though the effectiveness varies from NPC to NPC.


(( I understand I am taking a big gamble here with my own Creation of a culture...but rest assured, the Nomads travel the empty areas between the Hostile stronghold, Mysterious Camp and Kingdom of Nor. They do pay tribute to the King, despite how few their resources may be. ))

Well, I've been accepted (YEAH!)


First Name: Tamlen
Last Name: (Son of none)
Age: 207
Gender: Male

Race: Elf

Weaponry: Tamlen carries a variety of weaponry in battle. Belted to the side of his right boot and hidden in his left sleeve are daggers, both of which rarely see use unless no other weapon is available. Tamlen's preferred weapon is a single edged elven hand and a half sword, a weapon that would seem at odds (on account of its size) to his dextrous fighting style at first glance. Because of its make however, Tamlen's sword is light enough to wield with one hand, but long enough to carry in two. Rarely using a shield, Tamlen fights with finesse rather than brute strength, and takes many measures to outmaneuver his opponents. Unlike most Elves, Tamlen is somewhat inept as using a bow, even though he takes to carrying a short bow.

Magic: Tamlen's aptitude in magic is what raised him from obscurity in his home city. Though magic is relatively common among elves, Tamlen's first display of magic, accidentally turning himself translucent (though not invisible), was what piqued the interest of his future mentor, an elven warrior-mage by the name of Saphros. Presently, Tamlen possesses significant power in the art of illusion. He can make himself nearly invisible, all but blind an enemy, and enhance his own senses and reflexes further. In other spheres of magic though, he is less skilled, though not completely incapable.

Appearance: Standing just few inches shorter than most humans at 5'9", Tamlen could conceivably hide in a human crowd if he were careful, but, with his rather large pointed ears, would stick out like a sore thumb unless he was wearing his hooded cloak. Fortunately, elves are a common enough sight in human lands that his presence is rarely questioned. With brown hair, green eyes, pale skin, and fair features, Tamlen's physical appearance is representative of his kind, though his garb is not so inconspicuous. Tamlen usually wears a suit of black leather armor, complete with gloves and boots, along with a dark greyish-green hooded cloak, though he usually goes without the hood. Everywhere Tamlen goes, he carries an ornate staff carved from whitewood with a green crystal set into its head.

Personality: In human "society" Tamlen is as stoic as he can manage, speaking softly, and in as few words as possible. In battle, he does his best to retain his composure, which is difficult sometimes for one who has been taught to hate their marks with every fiber of their being, but he rarely lets emotions encumber him. In elven society or among friends, Tamlen's personality emerges. Jokes and riddles are a favorite pastime of the elf, as well as feats of sleight of hand (what modern humans refer to as "magic tricks), polite to a fault among his friends, Tamlen will fiercely defend those few who know him well enough to see this side of his personality. On the other hand though, those who have warranted his wrath, especially those who he thought he could trust or those who prey on the innocent and meek, had best avoid him if they value limb, and often enough life.

Back story: Tamlen grew up about as poor as someone in Elven society, which has all but eliminated poverty, can be. Though he would rarely want for food or go to bed hungry, many of the fineries the elite of elven society possessed were illusive to him. As he never knew his father Tamlen has no family name, something he has wanted to rectify every day since he was old enough to understand its significance. For years he seemed to be fated to obscurity like his mother, but Tamlen's fortune changed at age 10 when he displayed an aptitude for magic, which piqued the interest of an elven warrior mage known as Saphros, one of the Ele’aan. Saphros offered to take in Tamlen as an apprentice, an offer his mother accepted almost immediately. For the next century and a quarter, Tamlen trained in a fighting style combining shadow and sorcery, only being released from his apprenticeship once Saphros was satisfied he had learned everything he could. Following in the footsteps of his master, Tamlen joined the Ele'aan, and spent fifty years guarding the Elven wilderness from petty invaders and bandits, but ultimately left the forest at 170 years of age, angry at the incompetence he perceived within the Ele'aan after a series of poor decisions made by a high ranking member of the guild resulted in the death of five at the hands of Orcs. For the next thirty years, Tamlen wandered the human world dispensing justice upon criminals and bandits, which he soon found was no different then his former life besides the potential of getting in trouble with the law.

Extra: Tamlen is ambidextrous. He is also wanted in the city of Nor for killing two guards, both of whom were corrupt, and extorting the citizens who they were charged with protected, something telling of how society looks on unendorsed dispensers of justice.

Well, after a long series of editing, I have finally finished. To answer your question gender-wise, he is in fact a MAN. ^^


First Name: Ashemmi
Last Name:Chinetelle
Age: 20
Gender: Male

Race: Human.

Weaponry: Ashe isn't very fond of fighting, but working in the world of jealousy certainly requires it. He uses his long extended cloth spear (refer to picture) in order to hit them from a long distance without spilling blood. The fans are more than just an accessories, they can deflect in coming projectiles such as beer, glass, blades, anonymous objects etc...

Magic: Ashemmi's gift is his influence with Perfumes as catalysts. With each perfume, he can cause a anyone to do his bidding, to ease the pain, or to drive them completely insane. This works with both genders but it has a stronger effect in men. Although he has many Perfumes at hand, his magic allows him to use a maximum of 7 perfumes in total. He mostly combines these with her fans in order to control the flow of the perfume.

Here's a list of the 7 perfumes he likes to use the most:

Lust: A white-pink color, whoever sniffs its fragrance will be paralyzed for as long as the smell lingers in the air. The effects on the body are in-controllable spams and increase in testosterone resulting in stasis for the nerves. Lasts for 15 minutes after inhaled.

Gluttony: A green-ish blue color, it increases the metabolism of a person ten fold that they are made to eat non-stop until the effects wear off. Lasts for about 10 minutes.

Greed: Bright gold color, dulls all senses around the user, Ashemmi becomes invisible and undetectable for a short period of time. Lasts for 5-6 minutes.

Sloth: A muck brown color, whoever sniffs this perfume starts to mimic a monkey as a result. If not dowsed with water, effects can become permanent. Effects start immediately.

Wrath: Pure black color, it increases magic and strength tenfold but the inhaler looses all control of himself/herself, which might lead to self-destruction and the surroundings.

Envy: A bright orange and yellow color, the perfume literally burns the lungs of the inhaler. If exposed for too long, the inhaler could suffer from permanent lung damage. Effects start immediately.

Pride:Grey smokey color, it regulates the senses to make everything seem bigger and the inhaler smaller therefore changing the perspective of the victim. Lasts for roughly 10 minutes.

Appearance: I'm bad with descriptions plus, Ashemmi does not like anyone besides his co-workers to his is image out of work so this is his image while working

Personality: Ashemmi is naturally quiet and reserved, disliking noisy people most of the time. He rarely talks but likes to play, confuse and disorient people. But this character is usually suppressed, . He becomes very enchanting, glamorous, and warm when diplomatic issues arise. You'll never get bored with her as long as he gets payed. No refunds. What he dislikes the most are low-lives, deceivers, hypocrites, drunkards, and most of all, sexist women who think they can do better than him. Though he likes his co-workers like they were family.

Back story: Lucrative is one of the many things Ashemmi has grown to be. Since his childhood, his adoptive parents exploited his soft touch and feminine facade in order to rise from their financial crisis. At first he didn't care, going along with their scheme. But after an incident with a large, pompous man, he realized he was being used.

At the age of 15, he ran away from home stealing some of their belongings. Big mistake, it was.

He was mugged by raiders, and then sold into slavery. He was sold into a theater called "Le Jardin" because he was confused as a girl. When they found out that he was a boy, they attempted to throw him away if it wasn't for his amazing skill at dancing and entertainment.

At that time, he did not have a name and so the "older sisters" in the hostel decided to name him Ashemmi Chinetelle due to his squinted eyes and his ashen looking hair.

A year later, Ashemmi found his gift of perfumes after having difficulty performing for their guest and sought to prove his worth. While dancing, he accidentally spilled a glass of perfume and the smell triggered his magic which eluded the guests into a hazy applause.

Later on, he became one of the most famous entertainers in the his area, though only by rumor.

Extra: Please note that he, is in fact, a man dressed as a woman, and he entertains people by dancing, and acting for them.

irst Name: Eloise
Last Name: Garcia
Age: 180 appears 18
Gender: Female

Race: Elf

Weaponry: Her main weapon is a 10ft length of black metal chain. The chain is special as it can link onto itself to form loops (eg. Lassos, collars, etc). She usually has a sharpened weight attached to the end. She is a master at wielding the chain and because of that she suffers when opponents get too close. Her secondary weapon is a knuckle dagger which she keeps in a sheath on her outer thigh. She is still a beginner with this weapon.

Magic: Excluding her chain she couldn't use magic to save her life.

Appearance:

Personality: Eloise is a cheerful, energetic girl who doesn't let anything get her down. She is very naive by nature and is easily swayed by sweet words. However despite all this she is quite tomboyish. She's the kind of person that will try make friends with you as soon as you meet. Because of her belief that bonds between friends are all that matter in this world, she will go to extreme lengths to protect those she cares about. When in combat, her personality changes slightly. She becomes a more focused and speaks more formally. Treating her opponents with respect and praying for those who have fallen after the battle.

Back story: Eloise was the first daughter born into a wealthy family. Her father had always spoiled her, giving her almost anything she desired. She never wanted much though, mostly just to play with her older brothers. Growing up with little feminine influence, Eloise begun to act more and more like her brothers. Always playing outside and somehow getting covered in mud. She was sent to a prestigious school but didn't do very well.

When she was just 25 years old she found a discarded chain out the back of the blacksmiths while running around the city with one of her brothers. She took it home an begun playing with it. To her the chain was some kind of symbol. Her favorite character in the stories her father had read her fought with a chain and she wanted to be just like the warrior in the stories.

When she told her father this, he initially laughed at the childish dream but eventually caved in after he saw her practicing with the old, rusted chain. He found her a teacher and bought her a brand new chain. After practicing for several decades by this teacher she decided to join the military with her eldest brother. Eventually serving in his unit.

She has since resigned from the military and is currently traveling, eager to see the world and meet new people. And maybe find a nice place to live.

Extra: Scared of the dark.