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Caine Crosswell

"Our sacred honor? Feels like a death sentence to me."

0 · 236 views · located in Soria

a character in “The Legend of Soria: The Sacred Swords Part I”, as played by Vexilous

Description

Image

Basic Information

Name:Caine Joseph Lee Crosswell

Age: Seventeen

Appearance: Caine, like all the members of the Crosswell family, has black hair and dark brown eyes. His aforementioned hair, is, unlike the neatly groomed manes of the rest of the Crosswell men's, wavy and messy, brushed back in the middle, his bangs falling over his eyebrows. He has smooth skin, lightly tanned, and lightly dusted with facial freckles, a family trait currently shared only by his sister and cousin. He is of medium height, with a well defined, yet slim frame. 

Personality:Caine, continuing on his black sheep trend, is for the most part cynical and sarcastic. He is, however extremely intelligent, creative, and even slightly romantic, but prefers to spend his time mocking and despising the rest of the nobles, and tends to be very rude to people he doesn't know well. 

Background: Born to the noble Crosswell family, Caine couldn't be any more different from the rest of his family. While they are polite and practiced, he is rude and lazy, hating the noble life, and wishing he was a peasant. He is well know around Peacemark, due to the fact that he is constantly roaming the streets rather than being at home doing his duties as a noble.

Likes & Loves:
✯ The Cold & Cool days
✯ The Shade
✯ Sleeping & Taking naps
✯ Roaming the streets looking for things to do
✯ Oranges
✯ Music

Dislikes & Fears
☒ Animals (Especially Birds)
☒ Nobles and Rich People
☒ Being Bored
☒ Being Insulted
☒ Being ordered to do things
☒ (Literally) Being handed things.
☒ Swimming 

Sword Information

Sword name: Halo Burns Eternally Bright

Sword Appearance Halo's hilt is a light-bronze color, with the handle being smooth and cylindrical, the guard being two outstretched wings, and between these wings is a bronze halo that encircles the base of the blade. Blade-wise, Halo is rather unremarkable, other than the fact that the double edged blade is a lighter color than most swords.

Sword's ability: Halo's ability is to heat up, allowing the blade to heat itself to white-hot temperatures, and cut through nearly anything. What is notable about this, is that the blade only burns what it touches, and although it glows brilliantly, it does not seem to emit heat.

Additional Information

Themes
General: Shadows - Lindsey Stirling
Battle: Blinded by Light - Mashashi Hamauzu
Battle II: Last Hunter - Masashi Hamauzu
Danger/Escape: Get In the October Cart, Pig - Deadmau5
Sadness/Loss: Rose Of May (Violin Cover) - Nobuo Uematsu
Light-heartedness/Fun: Spun - Grouplove
Love/Romance: My Fault - Imagine Dragons

Physical
Handedness: Right
Fitness: Medium
Allergies/Medical conditions: Allergic to Garlic, Dandelions

Family
Viola Crosswell, 15, Younger Sister
Anita Silva 24, Older sister
Jack Silva, 3, Nephew
John Silva, 24, Brother In-Law
Henrick Crosswell, 45, Father
Rebecca Crosswell, 44, Mother
Bauregard Crosswell, 65, Grandfather
Cassius Crosswell, 18, Cousin
Corwin Crosswell, 43, Uncle
Anna Crosswell, 40, Aunt
Leah Karinina, 30, Aunt
Adam Karinina, 29, Uncle
James Karinina, 4, Cousin

So begins...

Caine Crosswell's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anguish Clamor Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Leo Collander Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Caine Crosswell


As the five of them, each sitting an a fine horse, all most likely as parched as he was, trudged on, the horses panting and kicking up sprays of yellow grains as they walked, Caine was fiddling unnecessarily with his sword, holding it sideways as it burned back and forth from a dim red to a brilliant white. He observed the blade, curious of it's odd powers. He ran his hand along the hot steel after the fire had dimmed, feeling it's smooth metal. He suddenly swung it right, the left, almost accidentally taking his horse's ears off in the process. He then decided to return the blade to it's scabbard, before sighing, and slumping forward, observing his four companions. 

First of all Leo, his long-time, and really, only real friend. Not to mention partner in crime. When they'd first met, Leo had been nothing more than a street urchin, and Caine had been nothing more that a angry, spoiled (Yet dashingly handsome) brat. Now they were well known associates of Peacemark's underworld, stealing from the rich, selling the trinkets and bobbles to the fences, and giving the proceeds to the needy, and although the poor weren't exactly Caine's top priority, they were Leo's, and he would help his friend no matter what. Besides, it was a great source of fun, and an excellent boredom reliever. Caine had managed to stay out of trouble with the gaurd, seeing as he was Lord Crosswell's only son, but he wasn't sure he'd ever know how Leo managed.

He looked over to the silver haired haired girl, who was tied with him for the youngest of the group. He didn't know much about Rhoda, as was the case with most of the others, but he could tell she was just as deadly as she was beautiful. What he did know, or rather heard, was that she was a traveling swordsman...Er, swordswoman, who was somehow tied in with the ancient warriors. What scared him the most however, was that sword of hers. He didn't know exactly what it did, as she hadn't said, or if she did, he wasn't paying attention as usual, but for some reason he couldn't put his finger on, he thought that if if he tried anything with her, it'd be the last thing he ever did.

Then there was Anguish, the stoic cloaked guy. He couldn't seem to figure this guy out. He was usually somewhat good at reading people, or, at least he thought he was...now that he thought about it, he had been slapped in the face by quite a few girls..."Nevermind", he thought, "That's not important now.". Anguish seemed to be a sad fellow, but didn't give off any particular signs of sadness, which, now that he considered it, didn't make much sense, but he still maintained the thought. He seemed nice enough though, and he was sure they'd get along, or at least not get in each others way.

Finally, was Aislyn, the Interfector. As the son of a lord, he'd already known of there secret order, but that didn't make them any less mysterious and badass. Hell, he'd have wanted to join them of their job didn't consist of babysitting Lords and Ladies all day. She seemed fairly nice, if a bit controlling, but Caine was sure that came with being part of the Emperor's secret service. Not only that, but she was technically in charge of the rag-tag group.

Becoming bored with his observing, he decided to unhook his feet from the saddle, laying them forward, crossing his arms and laying down along the horses back. This however, was an absolutely idiotic idea, and no sooner than he'd became comfortable, he found himself laying uncomfortably face-down in the sand, his horse quickly galloping away towards sweet freedom. 

"Hey! G-get back here you long-faced tail-swisher!" he yelled at the beast, sitting up and spitting sand out of his mouth.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anguish Clamor Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Leo Collander Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Rhoda A. Dunoir


Sighing slightly as she brushed a strand of white hair from across her scarlet eyes, forcing her flowing ponytail down over her shoulder for what seemed like the thousandth time, the young traveler looked up slightly at the sun blazing overhead, and adjusted the hood of the white mantle she'd purchased for the trip and now wore over her usual ensemble, pulling it down over her face in a futile attempt to keep the light out of her eyes. While the thin fabric of the cloak ensured that it wouldn't overheat her greatly, and the airy nature of her high cut dress - combined with the fact that she was currently riding at a fairly brisk pace on the back of a horse - meant she'd probably stay reasonably cool, it was still a desert they were traveling in, with all the burdens that entailed. Already, she was feeling a thin line of sweat settling into place over her brow, and they'd only recently begun the journey.

Ah, yes. The journey. It had been one that she had been planning for a long time. Yet, despite that, she hadn't really expected to make the trip with company. It had been almost a month now since she'd heard the ominous news, supposed sightings of the Shari and their dark masters, creatures that, since their defeat, had only really been known in legends. Yet, their presence was unmistakably a reality, and it was a grim existence that would have to be dealt with. The sword hanging from her side told her so, and, although she couldn't exactly describe or explain how she perceived this fact, she knew it to be so. It simply wasn't a matter that could be questioned. And so, guided by the blade she now carried, the sword her First Ancestor had carried long before she had even entered the world, she had set out. She was no stranger to traveling, having lived the large part of her young adult life wandering from place to place, and this trip had, at first, been no different. She had gone from town to town, either bargaining as best she could for food and lodgings, or working for those necessaries as well as for transport. Bit by bit, mile by mile, she had made her way alone across the country itself, slowly growing closer and closer to her destination. At first, her arrival in Peacemark had seemed like it would be just another such stop on her journey. And yet, in that city, things had suddenly changed somewhat. In asking around for supplies and guidance toward the legendary tower - although nobody seemed to know of its exact location, the city and its people were rich in old tales and legends that could tell her the direction in which she was supposed to go - she had abruptly been confronted by a girl, one of the companions with whom she now traveled. This girl, a member of an apparently mythical order even she had doubted the existence of, had, to her surprise, apparently already gathered several other individuals with blades like her own, the legendary swords of ancient times. Although she wasn't surprised to be found, she was slightly surprised to know that these others were also headed to the same destination as herself: the tower. Although she'd been somewhat reluctant to join, being rather wary of other people, there was a certain strength in numbers, and she couldn't have hoped to acquisition the supplies she needed in any reasonable amount of time otherwise. But, with the assistance of the Interfector girl, she could procure the necessary rations and horse for her own use. It had been a tempting offer, one she had ultimately agreed to. And now, here she was, an unknown number of miles out of Peacemark, riding alongside people she hardly knew to a legendary destination, with a weapon at her side that most people of the present age would have thought was just a fairy tale. There was a certain sense of awe to the whole situation that wasn't lost on her despite her calm, stoic demeanor, a sense that had remained with her from the moment she'd been guided to this place up to the present.

The silence that had fallen over the group hadn't been broken for some time now. Each rider merely stared ahead, guiding their horses only in the vaguest sense and simply scanning the horizon idly with their eyes. The only sounds were the quiet whine of the wind across the endless sea of sand, the measured breathing of the mounts beneath them, and the dull noise of hooves kicking up sand with every step. Idly, Rhoda reached down and patted the neck of her own mount - a fine mare with a soft gray hide; a large, strong creature that was probably descended from some breed of warhorse or another, considering its rather formidable build - which, compared to the horses ridden by the rest, seemed rather fresh. She hadn't exactly pushed it very hard, simply going alongside the other riders at whatever pace they chose without ever really forcing her mount to move out of its comfort zone. Besides, she traveled light, and wasn't much of a load herself. The beast chuffed, leaning slightly into her hand as she gave it a few reassuring strokes. The traveler had found that if you treated your horse well, it would do much more for you than if you simply ignored it. There was a certain loyalty and respect that even the smallest kindnesses could instill in the noble beasts of the sort she now rode. This horse was no exception.

An angry cry of surprise from next to her attracted her attention. At last turning her gaze from the long, featureless path ahead, she glanced out from beneath her white hood, her scarlet eyes settling on the source of the sound in an instant. One of her traveling companions, a noble boy of some sort, if she had his manner pegged right, had evidently gotten tired of sitting up - she wasn't surprised by this, as personal comfort was usually more important to members of the higher class than physical endurance or training - and had decided to try lying down on the back of his horse, perhaps hoping to fall asleep. Well, that wasn't likely, considering the moving nature of his would-be bed, but it seemed that the horse itself had problems with the idea, as it shifted uncomfortably, evidently made slightly nervous by how its rider was moving about on top of this. This slight jolt was all it took to shake the silly boy from his precarious perch, dropping him face first into the sand while his horse began trotting out ahead. Reaching out, the white-haired rider casually caught the reins of the horse, gently prodding her own mount to stay alongside it while she brought the wayward beast to heel, slowly stopping both mounts and then turning back toward the fallen rider. Swinging out of the saddle of her own mare, she hopped dextrously down, letting go of its reins - it was well trained enough not to bolt and run like the boy's mount had attempted just a moment before - and reaching out with her now freed hand to the fallen rider, offering him some assistance in getting up while at once calming his horse as best she could.

"Are you alright?" She asked quietly as she helped the boy to his feet, speaking one to one with another member of the party for perhaps the first time since she had joined the group. Her voice was gentle and soft, an airy sound that emanated from the slightly concealing hood of her mantle. Yet her speech also held a certain firmness to it, a calm yet direct tone that, although it most certainly showed emotion, seemed to cast this aside in favor of a pointed, straight-to-the-point manner of address.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anguish Clamor Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Leo Collander Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Leo Collander


Sitting on a well groomed horse in the annoying blaze of the sun, that Leo hated with a passion, that burned almost as bright as the sun. Everytime he looked at the sun it reminded him of that fire which scarred part of his body and took away his family. Turning his eyes down from the sky Leo looks at the reason he was brought on this journey a sword that rested on his hip. This sword and the swords his companions possesed were supposed to help somehow. Leo didn't really understand all he knew was that he needed to help.

Leo only knew one of his companions before they set out, Caine Crosswell. A noble who hates other nobles, who helped Leo steal from the nobles to make money to give to the poor, which unfortunatly got Leo into a couple tricky situations. One of these situations was where he found Dust, his sword. All in all Caine was a good friend and someone reliable to have around, however sometimes Leo wished Caine would fall off his high horse.

Suddenly a loud sound snaps Leo to attention noticing a cloud of dust nearby his horse, all Leo can do is chuckle as Caine is helped up from the ground by one of the girls. Then with a sigh Leo kicks his horse into a gallop for a short while to see if he can catch Caine's horse. Stopping before rounding a large hill Leo turns around abandoning the futile chase of the horse and returning to the group.

The setting changes from The Iron Desert to Soria

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir
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Caine Crosswell


He looked up from his sandy resting place to see Rhoda effortlessly calm his horse, bringing it back, and helping the young noble up. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." He said, tugging at the neck of his parchment-colored shirt, sand falling off of his chest, and smiling sheepishly at the hooded young lady. "I've uh...never really been an animal person." He said, thinking back to the time when his sister Viola first brought home her stray cat, Lord Whiskers. The mangy feline had been surprisingly good around the rest of the family, but the second he saw Caine, it was if the boy had murdered the cat's family in cold blood, and drank an entire mug of milk right in front of him. He still had scars on his back from that day. Not to mention his immobilizing fear of birds. He shuddered at the thought.

He carefully got back up onto his horse, being careful this time to sit in the proper riding position. He reached into his saddlebag and withdrew his canteen, taking a long overdue gulp of the luke-warm water. 

"So," He began looking over to the fairer rider. "Where are you from?" 

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anguish Clamor Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Leo Collander Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Aislyn Shields

No one ever expects their first to be anything amazing or something you'll look back on with pride; it generally involves someone unimportant, the action is lackluster, and the result is both disappointingly early and unsatisfying to any degree. Most won't even talk about their first unless they're drunk and feel like joining in on the self-deprecatory ridicule of each other. The obvious reason for this lack of quality is, obviously, the lack of experience the person has. It supposedly gets better after a few times, you have more experience and are generally given more opportunities once you complete that awkward first time. That's what they say anyway, but Aislyn wouldn't be able to find out if it was true for quite a long time; journeys across the kingdom don't tend to end quickly.

Though, it must be said, that after a few horror stories about what other Interfectors had to do for their first assignment, escorting a bunch of children around doesn't seem too bad. The Rhoda girl seemed pleasant enough, even though being around her put the older girl on edge, and Anguish, from that house who seemed to have a tradition for passing down a horrible name, was at least quiet. Caine, someone who likes pissing away the comfy life thousands would gladly kill for, was another story, and Leo suffered from being his associate. After assembling all the people she had been able to find who had acquired, through legitimate means or thievery, one of the sacred swords, they made their way through the Iron Desert. She had received the five fine horses from her commander in Peacemark and was to take both them and their swords to the Tower of Istrikahn, a mission of apparently divine importance, but not one that required a more seasoned Interfector, or ten of them for that matter.

The workings of both the Gods and the upper echelons of the Interfectors would likely always be a mystery to Aislyn, because she was very aware of what was strapped to her back. A weapon that incredible, that destructive, and four others just as powerful were being carried by children across the desert, alone, without any proper security beyond the only recently accepted Aislyn. Forget about demons and the Gods, what were they supposed to do in the event that bandits showed up, or rebels, or any other force more organized than these five? Yes, the Interfectors are skilled warriors and excellent guards, but there is a limit to their skills and it likely falls short of an opposing army.

Regardless of her worries over what her commander's were thinking assigning her to this mission alone, she was now leading these people to do their gods' work against something that means to kill them along with everyone else. So, with that pressure weighted on her shoulders, the sudden sound from behind her and the loud calls that followed; apparently, the young lord had forgotten how to ride a horse and fall off. While some unbroken horses might throw off a rider, the ones that they were given were certainly well-trained and, therefore, the blame could solely be placed upon something the rider did. To prevent something like this from happening again and slowing them down further, Aislyn turned her horse as Caine and Rodah remounted theirs.

"It's good that you are unharmed, but we need to hurry and cross the desert before anything happens. Please refrain from doing anything that will delay us further." Turning back around and continuing with the pace she had set prior to whatever accident had just occurred, a slight smile appeared on her face; it wasn't often that she was able to tell others what to do.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Rhoda A. Dunoir


The enigmatic cloaked figure simply nodded in response to the boy's sheepish reply, gently releasing his hand, turning, and hopping up onto her own mount once more. Her movements were fluid, swift, and seemingly effortless, almost as though she was some kind of a ghost simply floating back up into the saddle instead of actually having to climb it. Her scabbard clacked softly against the saddlebag, the only sound she made save for the quiet hiss of the sand as her feet left it, causing countless tiny grains to cascade down into her wake, obliterating her footprints the second she left them.

For a moment, she was completely silent, and it seemed as though perhaps she wouldn't answer the young noble's question, as the party's guide quickly interjected with a gentle scolding. In response to the Interfector's admonition, Rhoda merely nodded, and remained quiet for a moment. However, just when it seemed like she wouldn't speak any further, her quiet voice once more emanated from her white hood, nearly drowned out by the wind that spent the desert continuously.

"Wargleam," Rhoda answered in a single word, her voice quiet, stoic, and perhaps even somewhat unnerving. "Dunoir House. It's... just outside the city." It was strange, listening to her speak. Her words came slowly, and were very subdued and soft. Neither her speech nor her demeanor betrayed any of the thoughts going through her mind at the moment, both being concealed behind a calm, tranquil mask. Hearing her, one couldn't be sure if she was quiet because of some sort of shyness that crippled her attempts to speak, or if it was because she for some reason had literal difficulty talking. She was a mystery, and she was one that became only more enigmatic the more you knew about it.

Drawing forth her own canteen and taking a small sip, she quickly capped the waterskin once more and returned it to the saddlebag, giving a slight nod of her her in the direction of the rest of the party to signal that they should probably start moving. Gently prodding her mare, she once more set off at a slow trot, quickly coming alongside the others and simply joining them in mutual silence. What had been asked of her had been answered, and what she could do to help had been done. Now, all there was to do was to continue on their journey. It was as simple as that.