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Feolan & Arabella

We are but who we allow ourselves to be. Why, then, would one ever allow oneself mediocrity?

0 · 420 views · located in Etheria

a character in “Skyguard: Rising”, as played by Aftershock

Description

*Vanguard*
FEOLAN

Image


Partner: Arabella Sairine (below)

Gender: Male
Age: 19
Height: 6’5
Weight: 260 lbs
Hair: Golden brown
Complexion: Tan
Country of Origin: Unknown, raised in Gal Nim


Relationships: TBA

Characteristics and Traits:
Despite an imposing size and figure, Feolan’s warm, handsome features give him an air of welcome and protection. Having been raised in Gal Nim, a strong belief in the importance of tranquillity and composure has been deeply instilled in Feolan, and he has learnt to expertly mask any trace of discord or unhappiness far from view. However, the years with the Skyguard have taught him to open up, and he has become quite free with his friendship and affection. He believes in honest, open discussion, and will happily accept any being for who they are, so long as they too can recognize their nature. This fierce honesty and acceptance have built him steadfast friendships, but has caused offence to this who mistook his honest assessment of their character for personal insult. This confronting honesty and frankness seems contradictory in Feolan, as past that he is amongst the most gentle, well-meaning people at Skyguard.
Feolan has become fond of Lorthran styles, preferring loose fitting clothes of soft fabrics. Preferring simple clothing such as shirts and trousers, Feolan discards the more presumptuous aspects of Lorthran fashion. He attaches his Skyguard Seal to his right breast when wearing his armour, though will usually have it on him even when off duty.


Abilities and Talents:
Due to Feolan’s size and musculature, most would assume him to rely on brute strength and ferocity in battle. However, the thickly muscled arms and barrel chest belie an almost gymnastic litheness. Trained as a child in the arts of the shinobi, Feolan is skilled in a wide variety of death-dealing. In his mind, there is no great pride to be taken in a battle fought ‘honourably’. Either you win, or you die. And he will use whatever means are required to achieve his goals.

Skills:
Martial Arts: Proficient
Melee weapons: Deadly (Most comfortable with falchions, longswords, staves, bos, whips or daggers)
Shieldwork: Minimal (He is not fond of relying on a shield, preferring to wield two weapons)
Blade-throwing: Extremely Proficient
Strategy/Leadership: Minimal (He was raised to serve others orders, not to lead)
Poisons: Adequate
Concealment: Proficient
Archery: Deadly
Medicinal Knowledge: Lacking (what little he knows is solely for identifying and countering poisons)

Magic:
Magic does not come naturally to Feolan, and he struggles to learn even the most basic spells, let alone to use them effectively. However, he has developed a bit of a flair for enchantment, so long as he is paired with a skilled blacksmith.

Equipment:
Image

http://th03.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/f/2011/125/f/1/f1a1a887e638cc7261f1736eb244ef1f-d3fnb1v.jpg
Feolan possesses two weapons which he carries with him wherever he goes, and they are his dearest possessions. Above is pictured Durin’s Bane, an expanding whip of leather and flame. He assisted the Master Enchanter of Sentinel’s Keep in it’s creation, and was permitted to keep it. His next pride of work in enchanting is the first he managed to enchant to his own exacting standards single-handedly. Warodan Sky-Splitter. A longbow nearly as massive as he is, it takes tremendous strength to wield, and is fairly slow and difficult to fire. It is enchanted to reinforce the strength and endurance of the bow. He named it sky-splitter, for when the enchantment is unleashed the arrow shrieks away from the bow with great power. Though an impractical bow when facing numerous foes, against a single target there are few that could stand under Warodan’s onslaught.

His armour is fairly simple, leather attire, allowing maximum manoeuvrability. It is of Lorthian design, as that felt most similar to what he was familiar with from Gal Nim. It has plenty of pouches and straps in which he carries all manner of weaponry.

History:
Feolan knows little of his origins. Sold to a Galnimian merchant as an infant, Feolan was one of the few outsiders to gain entrance to Gal Nim. His very earliest memories are of the sublime, fat merchant Toshiri, a man who spared himself no luxury. However, he was not long to be a traders servant. Shortly after arriving in Gal Nim, Toshiri presented Feolan to his new owner.

The greying man was dressed in dark robes, comfortable, but not particularly remarkable. There was an air of practicality and directness to the man that Feolan had yet to meet amongst the merchant and his fellow servants. He drew no attention to himself, yet had a natural air that demanded respect. The jonin raised his eyebrows at the boy before him.

“He is not… what I expected.”

“Some would say it rude of you, jonin, to be so critical of a gift given in good faith,” the merchant replied. “The boy is disciplined and obedient, and shall make an excellent shinobi. He shall be strong, fast and skilful. Trust me. His lineage is… impeccable.” A reptilian grin spread across the merchants face, eyes twinkling dangerously at Feolan as he stressed the last word.

“Be that as it may,” the jonin replied unfazed, “the boy is an outsider. He will stand apart from any in Gal Nim. The purpose of the shinobi is to be indistinguishable, no different from any other man or woman.”

“Precisely. Who then would think to call a foreigner a shinobi, and blame on him a murder unseen? Yes, he would not be easily forgotten, but then he must simply not be caught. After that, his uniqueness shall mask him.”

“Hiding in plain sight…” The jonin regarded Feolan then, with piercing, steely eyes. Their talk was beyond Feolans understanding, but he sensed that somehow a decision was being made about him.

“Very well,” the jonin said finally, “we accept your gift. Worry not, you shall never see this boy again, and none will know of where he came from.”

“Good.” Toshiri handed something over to the jonin, discreetly hiding it from Feolans vision. “As always, a pleasure doing business with you.”

And so Feolan found himself, at a tender young age, to be handed over to the Togakureryu school of shinobi, a highly feared, respected clan of assassins. He was trained in the skills of martial arts, weaponry, blade-throwing, poisons, concealment, subterfuge, strategy and archery. Time not spent training was dedicated towards chores, such as cleaning or tending to the school’s fields.

At the tender age of twelve, Feolan was selected for an incursion into Eirea. This was to be the first of the schools expansions out of Gal Nim, and the shinobi sought to use any advantage they could to guarantee success, including the possession of an outsider shinobi, one who would blend in with the people of Eirea. Feolan was trained and tutored well enough to pass himself off as belonging to Eirea whilst they travelled.

The excursion failed horribly however, with the a local thieves guild not appreciating the rivalry. Guards were tipped off and set on the assassins while they slept, and the guilds own agents waited outside for any who managed to escape. Feolan was captured rather than killed, for the guards thought him to be a boy taken to be the shinobi’s servant. He played along, convincing them this was so and that he was clueless, then fled.

Clueless as to the mission and most likely thought dead, Feolan saw no reason to return his enslavement to the Togakureryu school. However, his first taste of freedom was a bitter sweet one, forced to live as a beggar and thief, and to hide his skills. When he heard tell of the skyguard, an elite class of unparalleled warriors bound to an order of noble honour, he immediately set out to apply for them.

Now 13, Feolan passed the combat aspects of his trial unmatched. However, when asked for what he knew of magic, Feolan was stumped. This was an art in which he had no knowledge. Distressed that he may fall below the expectations of the examiners, he revealed to them his past and skills. The examiners were stunned, and even after they made him demonstrate some of the skills he possessed, he could sense their disbelief. They brought his case before the knight masters court, and after much deliberation, it was decided that the boy had indeed passed the exams, and was to remain. However, his knight was only to be known only by the knight masters, and those knights he worked in a unit with. To any outside the order, he was simply another of the ‘high knights’.




*Sentinels*
ARABELLA SAIRINE

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http://downloadwallpaperhd.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Black-Dragon-Fantasy-HD-Wallpaper.jpg

Partner: Feolan (above)

Gender: Female
Age: 18
Height: 5’8
Weight: 146 lbs
Hair: Waist-long raven locks
Complexion: Rosy and smooth
Country of Origin: Zepher



Relationships: TBA

Characteristics and Traits:
(Notes above the above image: Arabella does not have the wings on her head.)
Born with incredibly rare, striking indigo eyes, Arabella’s beauty began to flourish from an early age. The bastard child of a duke and an unfortunate milkmaid, Arabella’s father hoped that her beauty would make up for her bastardry, and that he could marry her off to a duke of similar stance to himself, or failing that, an earl or baron that he wished to bind closer to his service. The Baroness however, would have sooner had her denounced as having any relation to the Baron, and was only too happy to offer her to the Skyguard when her powers manifested themselves.

Arabella remember well the objectification and contempt that she was regarded with then, and holds a natural suspicion and detachment. She has a quick wit and a sharp tongue, but is a fierce friend once you have gained her trust. She holds contempt for those who would see her only for her beauty, and her sharp tongue has humiliated many would-be suitors. She has a fiery temper, and is more comfortable in leather armour than any kind of gown or dress. She wears her seal as a pendant on a thin, silver necklace, the only jewellery she owns.


Abilities and Talents:
Arabella’s specialties lie in shadowmancy and conjuring, with the basic healing magic recommended to all Sentinels. Her magic is powerful if at times unstable, but tires her out quickly.

-Wall Running- One of the more novel magical abilities, Arabella can subvert isolated pockets of gravity around herself, so that she may run up walls and along roofs. This can make close combat with her unpredictable and unsettling. Not particularly useful in an open field though.

-Shadow Manipulation- Darkness twists, pulses and thickens at her command, forming itself into blade-like tendrils that attempt to rip and smash at opponents. They can be used to form useful constructs too, such as stairs, though these tend to be unstable.

-Electrical Storm- A cloud of violet electricity that she can summon up around herself, then direct at an opponent. Although it is capable of taking out several at a time, it is difficult to direct, and may miss entirely.

-Healing- You average, run-of-the-mill healing spell. It may be enough to save a life in a sticky situation, but it certainly won’t be patching up any be-headings.

-The Lost Things- Another unusual ability that Arabella has picked up in her studies. The Lost Things gives the user the ability to see a person's or place's attachment to things that have been lost to them, in the form of whispy black tendrils. The stronger the attachment or more important the object, the clearer the understanding she gains from this ability.

-Telepathy- A more cliché, but useful art. Arabella has a knack for telepathy, and is a dangerous mental duelist.

Dragon Form:
(The dragon in the picture below)
Arabella’s preferred form. Although a rather magnificent colour, her face in this form is rather disconcerting. A far cry from usual elegant beauty of dragons. But that is why she so loves this form. Dangerous, powerful, respected, ugly.

Dragon Abilities:
A massive creature, Arabella is made for soaring high and diving down upon her opponents, not for sharp turns and manoeuvres. Speed and strength are her forte, and although the smaller dragons might easily outmanoeuvre her, they cannot match her on the ground. Her breath weapons are powerful bolts of lightning, accompanied by a billowing black cloud. This cloud behaves as a sedative, dangerously slowing and disorienting any opponents that get a good whiff of the stuff.

So begins...

Feolan & Arabella's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Faelwen  Irwin Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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Feolan


“Knight Master Callistan.”

The knight master started, surprised to suddenly find another beside him. A massive man strode alongside him, thickly knotted muscles moving with a fluid, predatory grace. He had not even realized that Feolan had joined him. The boy moved so silently, especially for a big lad like him, that he was often startling others with his presence. The knight master supposed he ought to be used to it by now though. Bah, it was early. Awareness was for a more decent hour of the morning.

“Yes, Feolan?”

“Our first assignment is coming up soon, and-“

“Feolan, you know I am not allowed to reveal anything about the assignment to you. You will have to just wait and see what mission has been chosen like all the other students."

"I know that. I meant to ask if..." Feolan dropped his voice, not wanting to be overheard by any other passing apprentices. "Are the other knights in my unit to know?"

Master Callistan stopped, regarding Feolan seriously. He glanced either way, assuring that the corridor was indeed empty.
"No. Not if it can be avoided. The decision of the Knight Masters still stands. Only the heads of our order know of your origins, and it is to remain that way."

"And if they should question my skills? Swordplay and archery may be staples of Skyguard Rock, but there are other skills that might be needed. Skills not held in high regard by noble knights."

Callistan stared hard at Feolan, jaw muscles clenching and unclenching as he weighed up the question. Feolan could see the distaste which with the knight treated the idea.

"Fine," the knight master sighed, smoothing down the front of his tunic. "Other skills may be needed. And if they are, I'm sure you will find some way to explain them. You are a creative young man. Eventually you will be able to tell your unit of your childhood, but you are all still too fresh. A careless slip of the tongue, and rumors may spread about a 'shinobi Dragon Knight'. The Togakureryu school would not be pleased to hear that you had lived and deserted them for another order."

"Then they have continued their expansion out of Gal Nim?"

"We believe so, yes. But regardless, rumors spread like wildfire. Merchants would carry this tale with them. The ruling class of Gal Nim would protest a shinobi in our order, and your old masters would see you as a liability.

"I am no shinobi. I left them as a child."

"Yes, but rumors would exaggerate the tale. Before we could do anything, half the realm would think a dread assassin was amongst our order. That cannot be allowed. You will not reveal your past. So long as it is in your power, this will be a secret. Is that understood?"

"Yes Knight Master."

"Good. Now go, I have a breakfast to attend to. There will be enough missives to stress me out today without worrying about child assassins."

Feolan watched the knight master stride away. He was a gruff old war-dog, but Feolan held nothing but respect and affection for the man. Ever since Feolan first arrived, he'd kept a special watch out for him, ensuring that he adapted well enough to the life of a knight. He worried about the assassins having ruined the boys concept of 'honour', but he could see his potential. He was the first one to treat Feolan with any kind of special consideration. He was eternally grateful for that.

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


Arabella

The early morning sun was just beginning to let its warmth down upon the landing platforms as Arabella waltzed past. There were several early birds out for training before the assessments began, but still, the citadel was quieter than usual. The patrols must still be out. A shame. The head cook did not appreciate his food going cold.

She continued on towards the arena, the wind flicking her long raven hair out behind her. Amethyst eyes narrowed at the sight of the arena. Good. She was in the mood for smashing things. She waited for Feolan though, as she said she would, loitering in one of the citadels countless little alcoves. She sensed him approach long before she heard him. Which was just as well, because she did not, in fact, hear him at all.

"So? Was he as charming as usual?" What did he say? Have the others been told?

"Oh yes, almost as charming as yourself," he retorted. Nothing has changed. No one else knows.

"I aim to please. Speaking of which, I think it's high time we hit the arena already. The practice dummies haven't gotten their morning beatings yet. Poor things probably miss me." So we don't tell them?

"Ha, not as much as you miss them. I swear your aim hasn't gotten any better in all the time you've been here." No. Not if we can help it.

"Oh shuddup." If we can help it? That's definitely a loophole. I can't even help myself when I'm trying not to eat dessert. Hell, I take second servings of dessert. I definitely can't be helped. We can totally tell them.

The conversation continued like this as they made their way towards the arena, trading witty repartee's with tongue and private thoughts with mind. Maintaining the two lines of conversation simultaneously was nearly impossible at first, but by now they were masters of the art.

Once in the arena Feolan made a beeline towards for the archery targets, drawing from his back a new bow. His new pride and love, it was the most recent creation of his enchanting lessons. He had refused to let her see it, constantly putting it off as 'incomplete'. Now though was his first time really testing it out as a finished piece. She was interested in seeing what it could do. It was certainly big enough to be a powerful bloody bow.

She spotted someone slumped over on a bench. With a little laugh, she waltzed over, plopping down next to her.

"Feeling a little tired Faelwen?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Faelwen  Irwin Character Portrait: Eshe Summersong Character Portrait: Salazar Eskandi Character Portrait: Kirill Sckarsgar Character Portrait: The Sisters Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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Truly, Salazar didn’t have to ask. He knew—he usually did. It helped that their training schedule was so clockwork that you could measure the accuracy of an hourglass by it. Honestly, he really thought that Faelwen needed to learn to be more spontaneous, but he supposed it wasn’t really any of his business. He was her Sentinel, not her mother, thank the gods for that. Trying to imagine himself with children was kind of like trying to imagine Eshe Summersong laughing—it simply didn’t compute. He would know; he’d tried to make her laugh, but even her partner could only occasionally coax a smile out of her, and nobody had ever managed any more than that. Hence her Salazar-bestowed nickname: the Ice Princess.

He wasn’t sure what Sunshine’s issue with the pancakes was; he happened to think they were pretty delicious. Then again, he tended to eat pretty much anything and a lot of it. Unfortunately, her discontent with the meal just meant that they had to get to training sooner, and that wasn’t anywhere near as fun as eating. Oh well—honestly, the sacrifices he made for the woman were astounding. She wore a full suit of metal armor—a full suit!—and he said not a word about it, trusting her to wrap the metal in enough leather to not make him ill. And he didn’t even like his lash, but he wore it because it made the whole thing safer and more comfortable for her. Really. You’d think that would earn him some consideration, but you would be wrong, apparently.

Sighing, he took his time taking care of his dishes, and followed his partner out at something of a delayed pace. It wasn't that he was genuinely upset about any of that-- he was far too relaxed and easygoing a fellow to get upset over the trivialities of life. Fretting was just a waste of time. The guards certainly recognized him, and let him pass without comment, whereupon he spotted Faelwen on a bench, apparently trying to catch some z’s, as he thought the expression went. Next to her was Arabella, which meant that the formidable Feolan was… ah yes, there he was, near the archery targets.

“Bluebell!” he called pleasantly, sauntering up to the two women with a grin. His name for Arabella was derivative on both her actual name and the odd indigo hue of her eyes. It helped that a bluebell was a flower native to this region as well, of course—Salazar liked things that were interesting or appropriate on more than one level. “How does the morning find you?” He was a social creature, Salazar, and furthermore, Faelwen looked like she could really use whatever rest she was getting. Maybe that meant they wouldn’t have to train too much this morning. It was shaping up to be a beautiful morning, and there were so many better ways to spend it…



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It seemed her partner was not in the mood to race this morning, and Eshe cocked her head to the side. “Perhaps another time, Lowa,” she offered gently, trying to reassure the girl that no offense was meant. Kirill had rough edges, ones that she was perfectly fine and content with, but Eshe knew that other people were often more sensitive than she was. So while she never spoke for her partner without his express permission, she did occasionally smooth things over, when she deemed it needful.

Kirill retook his human form, and Eshe nodded shortly, indicating that she was ready to begin. “Magic first, perhaps?” She tilted her head to one side. She was more talented with it than the average Vanguard, a unique property of her heritage, but that did not mean she was anywhere near the level of a Sentinel. Usually, this kind of practice was a simple matter, but a vital one: Kirill would level his considerable magic at her, and she would provide a durable, moving target, launching her own spells in return often enough that he could not become comfortable or fall into patterns in his attacks. It was a fair bit more brutal than ordinary sparring, but they could and did handle it. Where others might have grown to resent being pummeled at by their closest ally in such a way, it only made them stronger, forged their bond of alliance and friendship into something true and enduring.

Rolling her shoulders, Eshe backed up a couple of steps, light on her feet as always. They picked a part of the field currently unoccupied by anyone else’s practice, as they did not desire that anyone be caught in their crossfire. Brutal this might be, but they were careful about the safety of others, even if they didn’t seem to show much regard for their own. The first spell came, and Eshe threw herself into a roll, back up on the balls of her feet in the blink of an eye. And just like that, they were off, the clash of spells and creative maneuvers only half the battle, as he was also trying to gain entrance to her mind, as a hostile telepath might. The effort of blocking both the mental and the physical assault was not an easy one, but Eshe was not a weak woman, and he would not find her a simple target at all.

Besides, after this, they fought hand-to-hand, and they were both quite good at that as well. She would never dream of pulling steel on Kirill, so she’d grown adept in these arts for his sake as well as her own. Her weapons training was something she conducted alone, or with a partner when possible. Feolan moved in a similar liquid way to the one she’d been taught, and so sometimes she asked him, as she felt that she gained quite a lot from those sessions in particular, the ones where she could not only fight an opponent, but truly learn from them. Fighting a fully-armored knight was useful, but it didn’t give her much to incorporate into her own style, after all.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Salazar Eskandi Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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Arabella


Arabella glanced over, eyes lighting up at the sight of Salazar waltzing towards here. She stepped forth to meet him, her body pressing close against his. Her arms draped themselves around his neck. She could see the flicker of surprise as her face neared his. "Why hello, my desert scrub," she whispered teasingly. "My morning is all the better for seeing you... in fact..." Her arms slowly moved down, resting her hands against his chest. A mischievous smile spread across her face. "You might be just the Sentinel I've been looking for..."

Suddenly, her hand clutched tightly at his shirt, and she whirled away, dragging Salazar with her towards the center of the arena's training fields.

"C'mon lazy, I need someone to train with! I haven't had a good spar with another dragon in far too long! Besides, Feolan's busy trying out a new toy of his."


Feolan


Feolan held his new bow carefully, taking every care with it. Not that it was particularly fragile, but so what, he was allowed to be a bit precious about his creations.

He set down his quiver full of arrows, and nocked one to the bow. He let out a huff of breath. Alright. Here goes.

It took some effort to draw the arrow back to its full extent, even for one as strong as him. He lined up the arrow, sighting down the bow carefully. "Come now Warodan," he crooned, "Sing for me." The bow tensed up slightly. The small, silver-set diamond on it's front glowed with a dim warmth. He ensured the arrow was lined up, then released.

With a cry, the arrow launched itself from the bow. It buried itself dead in the center of the target, 300 yards away. There was a faintly metallic smell in the air, almost like when Sentinels cast lightning magics. Feolan whistled. Well... that worked pretty well.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Faelwen  Irwin Character Portrait: Salazar Eskandi Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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Hearing Salazar's voice, Faelwen sat up rubbing her temples. Her focus was on Arabelle "No, no. Just got bored waiting for this one." She playfully pointed to Salazar. Her head was throbbing, and training seemed as if it would prove to be rather difficult.

Nevertheless..

Recollecting herself, she shot Salazar a look "Ready? After all.. you can never be too prepared." Knowing that he was fully capable of providing her with a hundred and one things he would rather be doing she grabbed her weapons and headed down the trail to where her locker was. Inside lay her metal armor with leather coverings to protect him. Putting on her gear she looked at the mirror, she was beginning to develop bags beneath her eyelids and her eyes possessed a hint of red in them from strain. There was only so much excuses, and things she could do to further cover her issue before it became inevitable. After all, if there was someone she could trust about her lack of sleep, it was her partner, but then again she didn't want him to see her vulnerable. She had a reputation to uphold.

Sliding her sword into it's spot of her armor she patiently awaited for Salazar to switch his form. Today, they would soar the skies..

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Faelwen  Irwin Character Portrait: Eshe Summersong Character Portrait: Salazar Eskandi Character Portrait: Kirill Sckarsgar Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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Morning sparring was one of Eshe’s favorite things. She knew, in a way, that she took her training a little too seriously. It wasn’t just the physical stuff, either; she absorbed battle tactics and history and lore and even mathematics with the same zeal and verve, though of course she’d never been very expressive, and so her enthusiasm was manifested not in her words, but in her results. She made no proclamations of loyalty to the Skyguard or her few close friends or Kirill, but her actions left little doubt as to its evidence.

But there was something uniquely meditative about battle that she did not gain from her other lessons. It was a chance to be in constant motion, thought flowing together with instinct in a single stream of action and reaction. She felt no pressure to speak or express or be anything in particular, and that was a gift she understood as only those who had felt such pressure could. On the battlefield, everyone was the same: everyone fought for their lives with the resources available to them, and though some held back ‘dirty’ tactics for fear of dishonor, everyone gave all they had to give. If they didn’t, they died, and it was just that simple.

Simple was underrated, she thought, and it was a virtue she tried to incorporate into her life as much as possible. Her manner of dress was simple, as was her manner of speaking, when she felt the need. Her emotions were generally relatively uncomplicated and straightforward. She endeavored to keep herself free of angst and agonizing or worry, and though there was one very large secret that she kept studiously from everyone she could, even Kirill, she was otherwise free of them. She didn’t lie, because lies made things complicated as well.

Here, though, putting her steps in tandem to the vital heartbeat in her chest, striking with rhythm and precision and grace, things were the simplest of all. When she at last put Kirill down with a flurry of quick strikes and acrobatic kicks, she offered him both her hand and their accustomed telepathic bond, shaking her head lightly at what filtered through it. He was much more emotive than she was, and half the time, she didn’t really understand it. But it was just the way he was, and she accepted that easily. One would not think of a person like him as warm, but there it was. Warm and surprisingly friendly when the mood struck him right.

Breakfast sounds like a good idea, she replied, and sheathed the blade she’d been practicing with. I wonder when they’ll call us up for the trial? The two of them had flown on several missions with full Skyguard officers before, and it was hardly a surprise when they were selected for the Veto. An honor, but one that they had both worked hard enough to deserve. She knew the others that had earned it was well: her close friend Azriel and his kind partner Seph among them. It was a formidable group, all told, and she allowed herself to have confidence that they would all succeed without the arrogance that they wouldn’t have to work for it.

The mess hall was a bit empty at this point—most of those that ate first were already gone and those that ate after training would only just be arriving, so the lines were short. Eshe managed to finagle herself a waffle, a delightful concoction that she’d enjoyed since childhood, and slathered it in berries and rich syrup. She wasn’t the kind of person who worried about her figure—with this much training, you needed to get enough energy into your system anyway. She sat down across from her partner and dug in—no need to worry when you could conduct conversations entirely in thought.



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Salazar looked mildly nonplussed at Arabella’s response—though his left eyebrow did arch elegantly up his brow at the bodily contact. “Is that so?” he replied, a teasing lilt to his voice. He wound one strand of her dark hair around his finger and gave a gentle tug. A strange game she was playing at this moment, but then he was rather partial to it himself. He knew the steps, and when her hands slid along his chest, he almost shook his head. Laying it on a little thick there, Bluebell, he thought wryly.

Sure enough, she wanted something from him (didn’t everyone?) and he found himself being unceremoniously hauled onto the practice field, an action he allowed more from amusement than any superior exercise of strength on her part. “Why is it that all the women in my life want me to fight them?” he asked rhetorically, mirth dancing in his light blue eyes. “Hasn’t anyone figured out that I’m much more a lover than a fighter?” Not exactly true, actually, but he wasn’t going to go into the technical details of his disposition when he could jest instead.

Faelwen reappeared then, having gone to pad her armor as necessary, and now it seemed he was wanted for more things than he could properly even do, but a solution came to mind readily enough. “Yes, yes, all right, fine. But since she—” he indicated his partner— “is clearly dressed for flying, we’re doing this in the air.” Jogging a large number of paces back from the women, Salazar reached inwards, pulling at the ropes and roots of his magic. For most people, they were threads. Not so for Sentinels, and even less for him. Using magic was as simple as breathing, and his control over it was so fine that he actually had mastery of his own process of transformation, down to the details.

His skin, already darker than average, slowly took on the hue of shadow itself, a deep, fathomless black. The light of the morning sun reflected in shades of blue off the scales that overtook his still-human body thereafter, and the leatherlike wings erupted from his shoulderblades even as he grew taller, claws sprouting from his hands and feet and massive, curled horns from his head when his limbs elongated, bent, and twisted. He shot from a slightly-taller-than-average man to a massive dragon in about ten seconds all told, and there was something almost artistic about the transformation. His eyes flashed last, losing their sky-blue tinge and being replaced by liquid gold.

Double-checking that his lash was in place, he lowered his head enough to properly see Faelwen, then gingerly took hold of her around the middle, choosing to believe that she had adequately accounted for this possibility in protecting her garments. With surprising care, he deposited her at the juncture of his neck and shoulders, where his lash was. “Well?” he inquired of Arabella, his voice in this form still slightly accented, but smooth like dark silk and with some odd reverberation in it. “Shall we fly?” He knew without needed to ask that this was what Faelwen had intended them to do, and aerial combat practice would only add a random and dangerous element to their usual regimen, something he doubted she would object to.

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Character Portrait: Faelwen  Irwin Character Portrait: Salazar Eskandi Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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Gently reaching for his lash she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Yes, do flirt with each other because no, I am not standing here at all, I mean forget common courtesy. Biting her lip she looked towards Arabella then at Salazar, a slight tinge of jealousy began to initiate within Faelwen's core. It bothered her that all she really ever thought of doing was training, in fact, she couldn't think of the last time she went out of her daily normalities to do something for her partner, hell, she could barely sleep but yet another vanguard of no relation that she knew of, appeared to connect with him quicker than she ever did. Then again, surely they were both flirts and careless, two of a few qualities to name that she just didn't have.

Letting out a sigh she bit her lower lip, she truly did not want to be in the middle of their affair. It would make her sick to her stomach for sure, but she couldn't turn back. It would probably cause unnecessary commotion, which she truly wanted to avoid at this point. Suck it up, tired or not.. Forcing a smile, she gazed towards Arabella "Well then, I trust that you're ready to go?" she asked, halfheartedly, still very confused by the strange anger she began to feel, knowing all to well why she felt that way.

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Character Portrait: Faelwen  Irwin Character Portrait: Salazar Eskandi Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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Arabella


Arabella couldn't help but laugh at Salazar's jest. He was almost as incorrigible as... well, she was. "Oh, a lover are you? Well I'm afraid I don't need any practice at that. Although, I would love to wallop on you for a bit." Fighting in the air certainly wouldn't be giving her any advantage, as she was perhaps the largest, slowest dragon currently training to become a skyguard knight, and was most dangerous when the opponent couldn't run. Still, it would be better practice.A real Sentinel dragon fight would most likely be in the air.

Feolan, Faelwen and Salazar want to do a little air-borne sparring. Put down the toy and get over here. She saw him glance over before picking up his bow and quiver, strapping both to his back. It's hardly a toy. She looked at him quizzically. "Bringing the bow with you? Won't the arrows just fall out if we turn upside down?"

"Master Callistan's new quiver enchantment. You have to tug on the arrows a little more, but it stops 'em falling out when sparring without needing a cover. It's a bit of a pain normally, but it actually makes them usable mid-fight. He's still testing them out, but he'd probably give you one if you asked him Faelwen." He gestured towards her when he said this, and couldn't help but notice her forced smile. Arabella, however, was clueless as to her half-halfheartedness.

"All ready here!" Arabella proclaimed, beaming at Faelwen. A Cheshire-cat grin spread across her face, teeth sharpening insidiously as her jaw warped and elongated. Crack! Her spine elongated suddenly. Claws burst from her rapidly extending arms, and her neck elongated outwards. Iridescent violet scales erupted from under her skin, and wings of expanding bone and sinew twisted their way out of her back. Her transformation was not one of the more elegant ones, but that was alright. Neither was her dragon form.

Feolan leapt up nimbly, using the legs of the saddle to haul himself into his seat. "We don't have to do this if you're not into it Faelwen," he called out. "I'm always happy to practice swordplay."

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Character Portrait: Faelwen  Irwin Character Portrait: Salazar Eskandi Character Portrait: Scipio Novius Character Portrait: Silveria Delphine Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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She briefly nodded at Feolan "No thank you, my weapons are safely protected. I customized them myself." She replied, the anger she felt before coming to a simmer. After all there was no reason for her to feel that way, she and Salazar were long time partners and it would never work, they were far to different. Without thinking, she let go of the lash and released her hair from its formidable bun. Her long golden colored locks fell instantly to her shoulders, and down to her waist. A loose strand took residence at the side of her face as she turned her to gaze to Arabella. "We can fly, just as long as you are aware of what you're asking for. You're fairly new so I'm sure Salazar wont go too fast but it will be a challenge."

She gave Salazar's neck three taps and he understood. standing up on his feet revealing his massive body within full perspective as he began to flap his wings in wide, broad strokes. Then, he shoot up through the air, twisting as he began to soar out of the area. Once in the sky he waiting patiently for Arabella and Feolan, giving Faelwen time to secure a safe position on his lash as she drew of her sack of arrows. Wrapping it around her before she drew her bow, and locked an arrow in place. Ready to begin, she smirked. When it came to aerial flight, she was prowess, this was her specialty.

After this I am going to sleep, god knows I need it..





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Having finished her breakfast, she simply smiled. "Pio, it doesn't matter. Finish eating though." Smiling she undid her armor until she was simply in her gown. A blue mystical aura began to cover her as a webbed tail began to replace her feet. Her body turned into a shade of blue as her scales became defined, then slowly her head began to take the final form of a dragon. Her jewel locked into place as she began to flap her wings, lifting herself from the ground as she ascended into the sky. Soon she was out of sight to those down below, with a chuckle she placed her wings at her sides and let herself fall as she plundged into the bank causing an explosive splash.

Beneath the water she was hard to spot do to her skin camouflage. Using her tail she swam all the way to shore in one breath, hopping along to sand as she lowered her neck to Scipio.

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Character Portrait: Faelwen  Irwin Character Portrait: Salazar Eskandi Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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Arabella & Feolan


"Fairly new? I'm sorry, but did it sound like she was offering to take it easy on us?!?" Angry whisps of smoke drifted from Arabella's nostrils. Shoulder muscles shifted visibly beneath her skin, tensing as her legs coiled to launch into the air.

"Take it easy Bella, I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it. Don't get too rough up there."

The fiery Sentinel grunted a grudging acknowledgement. Powerful legs pistoned her upwards, broad wings digging into the air to propel her into flight. Catching a nice thermal coming off the sun-baked roofs of Sentinels Keep, Arabella rose swiftly, tailing Salazar into the air. The black was larger than many of the sentinels, and fast too, but in terms of brute strength and size Arabella still outmatched him. If she could keep them locked close, it would be her game.

Feolan lent forward in the saddle, keeping himself level with Arabella. His own bow, Warodan, was strapped around his back, the magic of its enchantments a comforting warmth. His hand reached to the whip coiled at his hip, unhooking it. Durin's Bane, Master Callistan had called it. Apparently the name of some beast out of old stories he'd been told as a child. It seemed fitting.

Arabella hovered before Salazar briefly. She nodded towards him. Let battle begin. She beat her wings powerfully, launching towards him. It was a simple attack, just testing the waters before battle commenced in earnest. They'd have plenty of time to see it coming and dodge out the way, or counter it.

The moment they drew close enough however, Feolan let loose with Durin's Bane, the fiery whip extending outwards to come cracking down at Faelwen from an incredible distance. Arabella continued with her charge, keen to test out their opponent's strength.

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Character Portrait: Faelwen  Irwin Character Portrait: Eshe Summersong Character Portrait: Salazar Eskandi Character Portrait: Kirill Sckarsgar Character Portrait: Feolan & Arabella
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#, as written by Guest


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He wasn’t really sure what his partner’s deal was; normally, she was sickeningly enthusiastic at the prospect of training, especially against another team, but this morning, she didn’t seem to be feeling it. Normally, he didn’t ask her of she was okay or anything—it just wasn’t part of their conversational repertoire. This was partly because he preferred to talk of light things and frivolous things and things that didn’t matter, because it made people believe that he was light and frivolous and didn’t matter, and this was the way in which he preferred to be perceived.

It usually worked very well, and sometimes, he was certain even Faelwen was fooled by it. But there was another reason he behaved thus, and that was because he had faith in her strength. He would never have chosen to partner with a weak or useless person, despite what others might think, and he respected her enough for who and what she was to avoid prying into her business if she didn’t want to share. Theirs was not a partnership where each knew everything about the other, and there were things about himself that he didn’t want her to know, so he acted as he hoped she would, and let her have her secrets.

But if it was gnawing her enough to diminish her insatiable enthusiasm for self-improvement, a natural extension of her all-important duty, then maybe it was something he did need to ask about. But not now—now was for training, and she’d never forgive him if they lost, even though he preferred not to put effort into such affairs. Sighing inwardly to himself, he established a telepathic link with her for ease of communication, something they often did, but as usual, he linked only to the surface of her mind, so as to catch only those thoughts directed at him. It was just one more way in which he tried to leave her with as much privacy as possible.

Corkscrew, he informed her, playfully as always, and then engaged in precisely that maneuver, rolling out of the way of Bluebell’s initial attack, which had been more a play swipe than anything. He wasn’t stupid—he knew quite well that she was physically stronger than him and to engage at close-quarters was a bad idea. He, on the other hand, had a slight edge in speed, and a big edge in terms of magic. Which was why he spiraled higher into the air, seeing to put that speed of his to good use with powerful beats of his massive wings, and then hurled a darkly-burning ebon fireball right for her face. It was harmless, of course—if it hit, it wouldn’t actually burn, just leave a massive black mark where it would have burned if it hit. The goal wasn’t actually to kill each other, after all, and just like practice arrows were blunt and practice swords wrapped in leather, practice magic could be made nonlethal.



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Eshe sent her partner a flash of gentle amusement. His table manners left much to be desired to say the least, and it was so different from what she’d grown up with that it didn’t really seem to get old. Kirill had been so strange to her, when they first met. It was kind of funny, because everyone else had thought they were similar in just about every way—coloring, country of origin, a certain reticence in conversation with others, and an efficient, acrobatic verve about them that made them formidable in combat.

But these were surface things, and deeper down, they were actually quite different. Complimentary, but different, and she was glad of it. Being partnered with someone exactly like she was would have been easier, but she would have learned less as a result, grown less. She chewed over another bite and gave it some thought. Something tells me we’ll be called up soon, she admitted. Maybe today, even. It would be unwise to stray far, I think.

Not that the complex in which they’d lived and trained for years was exactly devoid of things to do, but she wasn’t quite sure what struck her fancy today. Usually, their day would be filled with a number of small tasks; sometimes they’d have to assist with the instruction of younger recruits, sometimes the flew practice rounds or actual missions with the fully-knighted Skyguard, sometimes a pair of the masters would ask for their help with some miscellaneous task or another, but all of that was suspended in the face of their upcoming trial. They were supposed to be ready whenever called, so it stood to reason that they couldn’t be busy doing something else.

Eshe polished off her breakfast and waited for Kirill to do the same, then shrugged. We could always take a run around the complex, I guess.