prince/ess?
Yuuki Keika
royal advisor
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/__1570419.jpg)
Name: Yuuki Keika
Age: 345
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Weight: 155lbs
Race: Kitsune
Weapons and abilities:
Conjure flame, immortality (not invincibility), fangs and claws.
Personality:
Wise. Willing to teach. Kind and considerate of others. Self-sacrificing and courageous. Determined to protect those he watches over. Persevering and difficult to overcome. A bit opinionated or completely neutral, never finding a middle ground.
Bio/Story:
With fire and fear at his command, not many would have voted for Yuuki to be on their side. He was just too unpredictable for anyone to understand or learn how to deal with. Though beautiful beyond compare in that special way demons are, his charming nature and appealing outward attributes were only enough for him to be recognized easily and therefore more avoided. But after having to oppose Yuuki in battle, it was decided having him working alongside them was better than having him against. Who were them? Anyone he ever came across, really. Politicians, soldiers, armies, kingdoms. Eventually he was picked up by Valentino, but it was there he decided he was tired of playing games back and forth between alliances and enemies. He became his own person, a completely neutral party, and if ever he was needed, he would join the army, but always as a different name and never a kitsune. He didn't want anyone to know of his powers. Perhaps too intelligent for his own good, this six hundred year old kitsune was lucky enough to become the Queen's own Royal Advisor after an incident revealed his true nature and landed him in trouble with the guards. Ezerona, though cautious and perhaps a little paranoid as she sometimes gets, had him put through a rather riorous interogation, and after it came to everyone's attention that he was the sort that preferred to help rather than harm, he was set free. And then, in time, his knowledge and skills were made known, and the Queen had him installed as her Royal Advisor. He isn't sure why to this day, seeing as he is a demon of a sort and demons aren't to be trusted, but he serves her as his thanks and because he wants to help Valkroth as he can, having grown fond of the kingdom and its people. With a tempered mind bearing knowledge collected from a thousand places over six lifetimes, he surely knows something about the world, and though he makes some very odd decisions, they usually turn out to be the right ones. Yuuki Keika has a very dubious past despite his issue with the guards that landed him here. He doesn't really talk about himself, but he loves to get to know you. He tends to speak in riddles. He can either be found in the library, the gardens, or shut up in his own room which he calls his "study". He is very intelligent, and in meetings, usually sits there quietly and won't make any remarks till the last minute. He's very good at what he does, and many question his motives. If Peridot listens to such doubts about him, it's hard to say. Yuuki strives to prove his worthiness and his usefulness. He never likes to feel a burden, but don't think he won't enjoy the finer qualities of life in a high position. He appears rather pampered on the outside, but under it all, there's a toughness that could only have been gained from the cruel, outside world. He looks young, perhaps in his late teens, early twenties. He has soft, sun kissed skin, laced with scars and mauled by badly healed wounds all down his back, stomach, chest, and thighs. He often wears long robes and cloaks and shirts to hide his horrible visage. His eyes are large but narrowed ever so slightly, with thick black lashes framing fiery red optics that burn as though with the fires he wields. He has short white hair that falls gracefully to his shoulders, smooth as silk, and sensual to the touch. The most noticeably oddity in his appearance is his ears. Pointed, white foxy things that move as he wills or turn to take in the sounds about him. They can perk up and droop and flatten as he chooses. His teeth are also slightly pointed, and his tongue rougher than most tongues to accommodate such vicious incisors.
Age: 345
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Weight: 155lbs
Race: Kitsune
Weapons and abilities:
Conjure flame, immortality (not invincibility), fangs and claws.
Personality:
Wise. Willing to teach. Kind and considerate of others. Self-sacrificing and courageous. Determined to protect those he watches over. Persevering and difficult to overcome. A bit opinionated or completely neutral, never finding a middle ground.
Bio/Story:
With fire and fear at his command, not many would have voted for Yuuki to be on their side. He was just too unpredictable for anyone to understand or learn how to deal with. Though beautiful beyond compare in that special way demons are, his charming nature and appealing outward attributes were only enough for him to be recognized easily and therefore more avoided. But after having to oppose Yuuki in battle, it was decided having him working alongside them was better than having him against. Who were them? Anyone he ever came across, really. Politicians, soldiers, armies, kingdoms. Eventually he was picked up by Valentino, but it was there he decided he was tired of playing games back and forth between alliances and enemies. He became his own person, a completely neutral party, and if ever he was needed, he would join the army, but always as a different name and never a kitsune. He didn't want anyone to know of his powers. Perhaps too intelligent for his own good, this six hundred year old kitsune was lucky enough to become the Queen's own Royal Advisor after an incident revealed his true nature and landed him in trouble with the guards. Ezerona, though cautious and perhaps a little paranoid as she sometimes gets, had him put through a rather riorous interogation, and after it came to everyone's attention that he was the sort that preferred to help rather than harm, he was set free. And then, in time, his knowledge and skills were made known, and the Queen had him installed as her Royal Advisor. He isn't sure why to this day, seeing as he is a demon of a sort and demons aren't to be trusted, but he serves her as his thanks and because he wants to help Valkroth as he can, having grown fond of the kingdom and its people. With a tempered mind bearing knowledge collected from a thousand places over six lifetimes, he surely knows something about the world, and though he makes some very odd decisions, they usually turn out to be the right ones. Yuuki Keika has a very dubious past despite his issue with the guards that landed him here. He doesn't really talk about himself, but he loves to get to know you. He tends to speak in riddles. He can either be found in the library, the gardens, or shut up in his own room which he calls his "study". He is very intelligent, and in meetings, usually sits there quietly and won't make any remarks till the last minute. He's very good at what he does, and many question his motives. If Peridot listens to such doubts about him, it's hard to say. Yuuki strives to prove his worthiness and his usefulness. He never likes to feel a burden, but don't think he won't enjoy the finer qualities of life in a high position. He appears rather pampered on the outside, but under it all, there's a toughness that could only have been gained from the cruel, outside world. He looks young, perhaps in his late teens, early twenties. He has soft, sun kissed skin, laced with scars and mauled by badly healed wounds all down his back, stomach, chest, and thighs. He often wears long robes and cloaks and shirts to hide his horrible visage. His eyes are large but narrowed ever so slightly, with thick black lashes framing fiery red optics that burn as though with the fires he wields. He has short white hair that falls gracefully to his shoulders, smooth as silk, and sensual to the touch. The most noticeably oddity in his appearance is his ears. Pointed, white foxy things that move as he wills or turn to take in the sounds about him. They can perk up and droop and flatten as he chooses. His teeth are also slightly pointed, and his tongue rougher than most tongues to accommodate such vicious incisors.
military advisor
mayor
kingdom guard
Jia Nian-Hajine
lesser noble
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/3702342.jpg?394)
Jia Nian: Contessa of the Black Nightingale Clan of Contractors and Weaponsmiths
Name: Jia Nian-Hajine
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 158 lbs
Race: Human (Southeastern)
Weapons and abilities: Bo staff, an oniyuri, and varied shuriken
Personality: She's seductive but cold hearted. There's no way to get in her heart, but maybe in her bed. She is only close to those in her Clan and hardly tolerates outsiders. She believes in female superiority and often puts women in high positions rather than men. This is a personal thing rather than a Clan thing. Jia flirts, charms, and manipulates her way through the world. It's hard to tell what she is thinking and she is apt to surprise people.
Bio/Story: coming soon
Name: Jia Nian-Hajine
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 158 lbs
Race: Human (Southeastern)
Weapons and abilities: Bo staff, an oniyuri, and varied shuriken
Personality: She's seductive but cold hearted. There's no way to get in her heart, but maybe in her bed. She is only close to those in her Clan and hardly tolerates outsiders. She believes in female superiority and often puts women in high positions rather than men. This is a personal thing rather than a Clan thing. Jia flirts, charms, and manipulates her way through the world. It's hard to tell what she is thinking and she is apt to surprise people.
Bio/Story: coming soon
commandant
knight
Jaehaerys East
free flame marksman
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/___1389935921.jpg)
Name: Jaehaerys East
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 179 lbs
Race: Impundulu
Weapons and abilities: His weapons include a recurve bow, double bladed short sword, and varied throwing knives. As for his abilities, they are all associated by his race. He is a rare and fearsome creature known as an Impundulu. Impundulu (translated from a strange and forgotten language into "lightning bird") assumes the form of a black and white bird. It reaches the size of a human, and it can summon thunder and lightning with its wings and talons. It is a vampiric creature associated with witchcraft, often the servant or familiar of a witch or witch doctor. If under the service of a witch or witch doctor, it's main purpose is to defend its master and attack its master's enemies. Impundulus have an insatiable appetite for blood. It often appears in the form of a beautiful young man who seduces women.
Bio/Story:
Jaehaerys was simply his name and East from whence he comes. As to who and what he is, that is mostly a mystery, as his appearance and mannerisms would say he is a man, but man, surely, he is not.
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 179 lbs
Race: Impundulu
Weapons and abilities: His weapons include a recurve bow, double bladed short sword, and varied throwing knives. As for his abilities, they are all associated by his race. He is a rare and fearsome creature known as an Impundulu. Impundulu (translated from a strange and forgotten language into "lightning bird") assumes the form of a black and white bird. It reaches the size of a human, and it can summon thunder and lightning with its wings and talons. It is a vampiric creature associated with witchcraft, often the servant or familiar of a witch or witch doctor. If under the service of a witch or witch doctor, it's main purpose is to defend its master and attack its master's enemies. Impundulus have an insatiable appetite for blood. It often appears in the form of a beautiful young man who seduces women.
Bio/Story:
Jaehaerys was simply his name and East from whence he comes. As to who and what he is, that is mostly a mystery, as his appearance and mannerisms would say he is a man, but man, surely, he is not.
magus
Vahu Imhodet
assassin
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/1671360.jpg)
Name: Vahu Imhodet
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Height: 5' 11"
Wight: 200 lbs
Race: Half Lion-kind
Weapons and abilities:
Javelins and spears. Minor magics. Teeth and claws. Heightened senses, agility, speed, and strength.
Bio/Story: Vahu is a living muscle: a body toned and perfected to be at its peak of strength and ability. Her golden skin though smooth bears scars that tell a story of all the battles she faced and all the forces she overcame. Her golden eyes can spot movement in the day or the night from up to two hundred yards away. At her easiest disposal are razor sharp claws that extend from strong fingers. Her tufted ears can take in the softest sounds, even the heartbeats of small animals. Her hair, long, straight, and platinum blonde, is always tied up and out of her face so as not to distract her and to stay free of sweat. She wears a light leather breastplate and varied animal skins and furs to cover the rest of her. She wants to be free of obstructions and able to do her work without anything weighing her down or holding her back.
Vahu was born in the East, in a land of deserts and strange gods. She grew up in a Clan of Lion-kind (anthropomorphic lions), and was treated of highest regard. Her father was the Chieftain of the Clan, and he named Vahu as his prized daughter. From the time she was three, she was arranged to marry the son of a nearby Clan Chieftain. And when she turned twelve, she was taken from her Clan to go live with her husband-to-be. He treated her cruelly, for she was half-human and therefore of tainted blood. But she endured and became his wife when she was fifteen, changing her last name to Imhodet. She and her husband ruled the Clan only a few months after the marriage as the Chieftain met an untimely death at the hands of their enemies. Together, they avenged the Chieftain and took control of the enemy's lands, expanding their Clan to become the largest in the country. Eventually, the two came to deeply love and care for each other. When she was seventeen, they announced the coming arrival of their son and heir. It was a joyous time in the land. But then, a great tragedy struck. Their Clan was attacked. Vahu's beloved died and she was stabbed in the stomach. She survived, but her unborn child did not. She was captured by her enemies and sold into slavery. For months, she was abused and put through horrendous conditions. She found herself pregnant again, and had to give up her child as soon as it was born for fear he would end up a slave like her. She was eventually sold to a very kind noble ho took pity on her and paid for her freedom. She went straight to Valentino's military. In the training camps, they discovered her value and prowess in the fight, and so, she was set in the Free Flame Assassins. She is dangerous and focused, a calm combatant who shows no mercy to her prey. Per her traditions, she eats the hearts of those she kills to take on the strength of their spirits. To prove the contract has been fulfilled, she brings a piece of them back with her after completing a kill. She may be ruthless, but she is not evil by any means. She is rather compassionate, especially to less fortunates. She treats all those beneath her with respect. As for slavery, she absolutely abhors it, and often loses her temper when she sees taskmasters or owners abusing their slaves. Though she is from another land, she loves the Valentino Kingdom, and she will gladly die defending it and her Queen.
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Height: 5' 11"
Wight: 200 lbs
Race: Half Lion-kind
Weapons and abilities:
Javelins and spears. Minor magics. Teeth and claws. Heightened senses, agility, speed, and strength.
Bio/Story: Vahu is a living muscle: a body toned and perfected to be at its peak of strength and ability. Her golden skin though smooth bears scars that tell a story of all the battles she faced and all the forces she overcame. Her golden eyes can spot movement in the day or the night from up to two hundred yards away. At her easiest disposal are razor sharp claws that extend from strong fingers. Her tufted ears can take in the softest sounds, even the heartbeats of small animals. Her hair, long, straight, and platinum blonde, is always tied up and out of her face so as not to distract her and to stay free of sweat. She wears a light leather breastplate and varied animal skins and furs to cover the rest of her. She wants to be free of obstructions and able to do her work without anything weighing her down or holding her back.
Vahu was born in the East, in a land of deserts and strange gods. She grew up in a Clan of Lion-kind (anthropomorphic lions), and was treated of highest regard. Her father was the Chieftain of the Clan, and he named Vahu as his prized daughter. From the time she was three, she was arranged to marry the son of a nearby Clan Chieftain. And when she turned twelve, she was taken from her Clan to go live with her husband-to-be. He treated her cruelly, for she was half-human and therefore of tainted blood. But she endured and became his wife when she was fifteen, changing her last name to Imhodet. She and her husband ruled the Clan only a few months after the marriage as the Chieftain met an untimely death at the hands of their enemies. Together, they avenged the Chieftain and took control of the enemy's lands, expanding their Clan to become the largest in the country. Eventually, the two came to deeply love and care for each other. When she was seventeen, they announced the coming arrival of their son and heir. It was a joyous time in the land. But then, a great tragedy struck. Their Clan was attacked. Vahu's beloved died and she was stabbed in the stomach. She survived, but her unborn child did not. She was captured by her enemies and sold into slavery. For months, she was abused and put through horrendous conditions. She found herself pregnant again, and had to give up her child as soon as it was born for fear he would end up a slave like her. She was eventually sold to a very kind noble ho took pity on her and paid for her freedom. She went straight to Valentino's military. In the training camps, they discovered her value and prowess in the fight, and so, she was set in the Free Flame Assassins. She is dangerous and focused, a calm combatant who shows no mercy to her prey. Per her traditions, she eats the hearts of those she kills to take on the strength of their spirits. To prove the contract has been fulfilled, she brings a piece of them back with her after completing a kill. She may be ruthless, but she is not evil by any means. She is rather compassionate, especially to less fortunates. She treats all those beneath her with respect. As for slavery, she absolutely abhors it, and often loses her temper when she sees taskmasters or owners abusing their slaves. Though she is from another land, she loves the Valentino Kingdom, and she will gladly die defending it and her Queen.
Sinclair Voltaire
Free Flame Footman
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/___5835147.png)
Name: Sinclair Voltaire
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 3"
Weight: 250lbs
Race: Elf-Draugr
Weapons and abilities:
A dragon at his disposal named Septentrio. A falchion made of dragon forged steel. A small punch dagger with a blade crafted of a dragon scale with a jade and bone handle.
Personality:
Determined and a bit hot headed at times. Stoic and simple. He doesn't ask for or desire much. He hates others for their hatred towards him. He has a good heart though it never beats, and he is perhaps one of the kindest people you can meet once you show him that you do not hate him.
Bio/Story :
"Being this undead thing has a benefit and a curse: I don't die easily."
While the majority of draugr have been wiped out, Sinclair has defied the world's order of things by continuing to exist. Being half elf certainly helps. And no, he will never explain how being a half-elf half-draugr works. Though suffering from a hopeless case of depressed self-esteem, Sinclair works his hardest to at least appear perfectly normal. Possessing the finer structure and beauty of his elven parent, one can almost forget he's an undead creature, or at least partially undead. Then at least he can fit in for the most part, but it seems as soon as his true identity is discovered as being one of those reanimated things, others tend to forget that he is, for the most part, alive, and they decide to shun and avoid him, as if he's going to one day flip out and eat all their brains. It's usually revealed by the minor things if he doesn't say it right out. One when looks close enough at him, they may notice the imperfections associated with the non-living: his skin is always cold and pale, eyes white as snow, his heartbeat is so quiet that it's easy to miss, he has a smell of death about him, and this inability to fully heal without the use of magic, which means he oft walks about with gaping wounds or jagged gouge marks roughly held together with wire or nails or something. The latter is very uncommon to see, but it does happen, and his higher pain tolerance is usually what garners questions and investigations as to what is wrong with him. Even if no one guesses, they still get that foreboding sense of strangeness, and therefore make a wide berth about him and avoid eye contact and the like. He is not naive of their whispering and behavior. He knows why they do it, but it isn't as though he can help it in any way. This is what he is rather than what he does or acts. It's an unchangeable dilemma, and though he despised himself for so long, he is on the road to mere acceptance. if there was a way to change what he is, he would have done it long ago. He has been alone for a long time, and now though he wanders with his dragon through the road that is life, he still longs for the company of another person. Sinclair is a dragon tamer for the military, and that is something of a story. He was in Valkroth City, a really young man at the time, probably seventeen years old, looking in awe at a statue of a dragon. A man stopped next to him to gaze at the statue, and pulled the pipe he was smoking from his mouth and said, "Magnificent thing, a dragon. But you never really get to know one till you try to tame it." And though it was a very short encounter and probably a very vague thing to say, it sparked a deep curiosity in Sinclair that made him want to pursue the dangerous work of dragon taming. He had always been awed by these beasts and fascinated with their strength and power. He had always wanted to understand them, and that man's words led him to Dragon-Bne Alley. The men he met there were cruel and thought Sinclair was rather stupid and naive for being so young and wanting to do something so big. An old dragon tamer reluctantly took him on as an apprentice. He didn't teach Sinclair anything and just told him to watch. But Sinclair learned. He learned more and more every day as he watched the dragons. Forget the dragon tamer himself, it was the dragons that taught Sinclair how to deal with them. How to approach, how to respect, how to conquer, how to control. He learned in the way they moved and talked and fought and submitted. The dragon tamer, though able to break the dragon, did not seem to understand what Sinclair came to understand. So Sinclair picked a dragon and worked on his own when it was night and no one was about. He worked on one particularly vicious dragon that the military had decided to put down: the supposedly untamable Septentrio. But Sinclair worked with him rather than work him. Sinclair broke himself rather than the dragon, and they somehow reached a curious understanding, and through that, Sinclair learned how to master this unconquerable beast. One night, he was discovered working with the dragon. The people were infuriated that he was letting a dragon loose, but the old commander saw the way Sinclair treated and worked the dragon, and so he was made a dragon tamer of his own. Septentrio became his permanent companion, and he will serve none other than Sinclair. Probably because Sinclair is the only one who treats Septentrio with respect. He never let his ambition and his power over those he has mastered get to his head or affect his heart. He still sees their majesty, their pride, and their strength. He does not see them as beasts of burden, but more as soldiers under his command. They obey his orders because of his status rather than because they are his slave. He does not consider them conquered, for they are not objects or dumb beasts to be conquered. He understands that they are more powerful than he, and should be treated as such. He's always seen himself more inferior, and not just when it comes to dragons. His lack of self-esteem is from all the hatred he has received as partially undead. They seem to ignore the word partially and skip right to the undead. There's more to him than that if anyone had bothered to perhaps try and see it. Instead, they made that the large kicked in his life, and he's been destroyed by their cruelty. He's hardly ever motivated to do much or pursue anything, and he never likes being around people. It's a form of severe shyness that borders on the ridiculous in some cases. He does know how to act in public when demanded to. He isn't socially awkward or inept, and knows how not to make a fool of himself. Initially coming across as dark and brooding, Sinclair is very gentle, strong, and wise. You would never guess if all you did was listen to the rumors and fail to understand the man he really is.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 3"
Weight: 250lbs
Race: Elf-Draugr
Weapons and abilities:
A dragon at his disposal named Septentrio. A falchion made of dragon forged steel. A small punch dagger with a blade crafted of a dragon scale with a jade and bone handle.
Personality:
Determined and a bit hot headed at times. Stoic and simple. He doesn't ask for or desire much. He hates others for their hatred towards him. He has a good heart though it never beats, and he is perhaps one of the kindest people you can meet once you show him that you do not hate him.
Bio/Story :
"Being this undead thing has a benefit and a curse: I don't die easily."
While the majority of draugr have been wiped out, Sinclair has defied the world's order of things by continuing to exist. Being half elf certainly helps. And no, he will never explain how being a half-elf half-draugr works. Though suffering from a hopeless case of depressed self-esteem, Sinclair works his hardest to at least appear perfectly normal. Possessing the finer structure and beauty of his elven parent, one can almost forget he's an undead creature, or at least partially undead. Then at least he can fit in for the most part, but it seems as soon as his true identity is discovered as being one of those reanimated things, others tend to forget that he is, for the most part, alive, and they decide to shun and avoid him, as if he's going to one day flip out and eat all their brains. It's usually revealed by the minor things if he doesn't say it right out. One when looks close enough at him, they may notice the imperfections associated with the non-living: his skin is always cold and pale, eyes white as snow, his heartbeat is so quiet that it's easy to miss, he has a smell of death about him, and this inability to fully heal without the use of magic, which means he oft walks about with gaping wounds or jagged gouge marks roughly held together with wire or nails or something. The latter is very uncommon to see, but it does happen, and his higher pain tolerance is usually what garners questions and investigations as to what is wrong with him. Even if no one guesses, they still get that foreboding sense of strangeness, and therefore make a wide berth about him and avoid eye contact and the like. He is not naive of their whispering and behavior. He knows why they do it, but it isn't as though he can help it in any way. This is what he is rather than what he does or acts. It's an unchangeable dilemma, and though he despised himself for so long, he is on the road to mere acceptance. if there was a way to change what he is, he would have done it long ago. He has been alone for a long time, and now though he wanders with his dragon through the road that is life, he still longs for the company of another person. Sinclair is a dragon tamer for the military, and that is something of a story. He was in Valkroth City, a really young man at the time, probably seventeen years old, looking in awe at a statue of a dragon. A man stopped next to him to gaze at the statue, and pulled the pipe he was smoking from his mouth and said, "Magnificent thing, a dragon. But you never really get to know one till you try to tame it." And though it was a very short encounter and probably a very vague thing to say, it sparked a deep curiosity in Sinclair that made him want to pursue the dangerous work of dragon taming. He had always been awed by these beasts and fascinated with their strength and power. He had always wanted to understand them, and that man's words led him to Dragon-Bne Alley. The men he met there were cruel and thought Sinclair was rather stupid and naive for being so young and wanting to do something so big. An old dragon tamer reluctantly took him on as an apprentice. He didn't teach Sinclair anything and just told him to watch. But Sinclair learned. He learned more and more every day as he watched the dragons. Forget the dragon tamer himself, it was the dragons that taught Sinclair how to deal with them. How to approach, how to respect, how to conquer, how to control. He learned in the way they moved and talked and fought and submitted. The dragon tamer, though able to break the dragon, did not seem to understand what Sinclair came to understand. So Sinclair picked a dragon and worked on his own when it was night and no one was about. He worked on one particularly vicious dragon that the military had decided to put down: the supposedly untamable Septentrio. But Sinclair worked with him rather than work him. Sinclair broke himself rather than the dragon, and they somehow reached a curious understanding, and through that, Sinclair learned how to master this unconquerable beast. One night, he was discovered working with the dragon. The people were infuriated that he was letting a dragon loose, but the old commander saw the way Sinclair treated and worked the dragon, and so he was made a dragon tamer of his own. Septentrio became his permanent companion, and he will serve none other than Sinclair. Probably because Sinclair is the only one who treats Septentrio with respect. He never let his ambition and his power over those he has mastered get to his head or affect his heart. He still sees their majesty, their pride, and their strength. He does not see them as beasts of burden, but more as soldiers under his command. They obey his orders because of his status rather than because they are his slave. He does not consider them conquered, for they are not objects or dumb beasts to be conquered. He understands that they are more powerful than he, and should be treated as such. He's always seen himself more inferior, and not just when it comes to dragons. His lack of self-esteem is from all the hatred he has received as partially undead. They seem to ignore the word partially and skip right to the undead. There's more to him than that if anyone had bothered to perhaps try and see it. Instead, they made that the large kicked in his life, and he's been destroyed by their cruelty. He's hardly ever motivated to do much or pursue anything, and he never likes being around people. It's a form of severe shyness that borders on the ridiculous in some cases. He does know how to act in public when demanded to. He isn't socially awkward or inept, and knows how not to make a fool of himself. Initially coming across as dark and brooding, Sinclair is very gentle, strong, and wise. You would never guess if all you did was listen to the rumors and fail to understand the man he really is.
butcher
hunter
farmer
tailor
general goods merchant
Em
alchemist
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/6028108.jpg?328)
Name: Em
Age: appears to be 19
Gender: appears to be Male
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 145lbs
Race: Mehrne
Weapons and abilities: Racial abilities include super speed, heightened reflexes, wall crawling, water breathing, and water manipulation. He wields a small club lined with shark's teeth, wielding it as a blunt weapon.
Personality: Em comes across as blunt and maybe even unfeeling. He only cares about his circle of friends, and he purposely keeps that circle small. He seems rather melancholy and bored for the most part as nothing seems to excite him much. He can be very animalistic and fly into berserker rages when threatened.
Bio/Story: Mehrne are an aquatic, undead, nocturnal race created to be guardians of river spirits. Em doesn't he remember who or what he was before he was resurrected to serve the river spirit that made him. He served his master well and got along with the other Mehrne alright enough. But he was eventually allowed to branch off in service. The river spirit had made one too many Mehrne, so it told the extras that they should be its eyes and ears out there in the world. Em was one of those discarded extras. He wandered about for a time before settling in Valkroth City. During his travels beforehand and his life with the spirit, he had learned much of herbs. So once he came to the city, he took up the profession of an alchemist. He has a little shop in which he makes potions, poisons, elixirs, gasses, and all sorts of other things. He rather enjoys the work, though he doesn't really enjoy much of anything else. He gets a lot of odd looks and racist remarks, but most people have never seen or heard of a Mehrne, so he lets it all slide.
Age: appears to be 19
Gender: appears to be Male
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 145lbs
Race: Mehrne
Weapons and abilities: Racial abilities include super speed, heightened reflexes, wall crawling, water breathing, and water manipulation. He wields a small club lined with shark's teeth, wielding it as a blunt weapon.
Personality: Em comes across as blunt and maybe even unfeeling. He only cares about his circle of friends, and he purposely keeps that circle small. He seems rather melancholy and bored for the most part as nothing seems to excite him much. He can be very animalistic and fly into berserker rages when threatened.
Bio/Story: Mehrne are an aquatic, undead, nocturnal race created to be guardians of river spirits. Em doesn't he remember who or what he was before he was resurrected to serve the river spirit that made him. He served his master well and got along with the other Mehrne alright enough. But he was eventually allowed to branch off in service. The river spirit had made one too many Mehrne, so it told the extras that they should be its eyes and ears out there in the world. Em was one of those discarded extras. He wandered about for a time before settling in Valkroth City. During his travels beforehand and his life with the spirit, he had learned much of herbs. So once he came to the city, he took up the profession of an alchemist. He has a little shop in which he makes potions, poisons, elixirs, gasses, and all sorts of other things. He rather enjoys the work, though he doesn't really enjoy much of anything else. He gets a lot of odd looks and racist remarks, but most people have never seen or heard of a Mehrne, so he lets it all slide.
blacksmith
civillian
Pariah Grim Hawkins
slave on the black market
Name : Pariah Grim Hawkins
Age: 13
Gender: Male
Height: 4'
Weight: 80lbs
Race: Dragonblood (water variety)
Weapons and abilities:
Can wield water at will and communicate with dragons.
Personality:
Self-sacrificing and possessing low self esteem, he hardly believes he's worth anything. He is mostly defeatist, but secretly clings to hope. He deigns hope as a curse. He can be moody, but bottles it up.
Bio/Story :
Pariah means "outcast", but even that definition does not truly denote what such a word means. Pariahs are more than outcasts, ignored and downtrodden. Pariahs are the ones no one has even heard of, for their existence has so been wiped from memory that they may as well have never been born. They are pushed past the fringes of society to feed on the scraps. In passing on the street, they have become invisible. They can scream and cry and still no one will hear them. For they are pariahs, untouchables, abominations. And such a word was given to Pariah Grim Hawkins to forever be his name. No one really know what to make of him, and he hardly knows what to make of himself. He never knew his family, had any friends, or made any sorts of acquaintances that might have helped and bettered him through his life. No, instead, he was left scrounging in streets and crawling through gutters, because that is the life left to orphans without names and faces. If anyone had really known of this particular child's significance, perhaps things would have turned out differently for him than what life offered. He's never had the option of being given silver spoons and platters. Life was thrown at him messy and raw since day one and it continues to show him just how much degradation it has left to spit out in his face. When radicals attacked his village of dragon worshippers, they slaughtered his people, making sure to leave none alive. But as with every plan, there are the loopholes and the mismanaged gaps. Through one such crack slipped two young dragon worshippers, and they ran from the village. They survived. Three years later, the male, died. The female discovered only a week later that she was pregnant with the deceased's child. And in the middle of the fourth year, she died delivering their son: one of the last dragon worshippers in existence born with the blood of the water dragon. He was born in the home of an old werewolf healer who did her best to raise the child. But only a year later, she too was taken from the world by bandits. They would have killed the little boy, but money breeds greed, and so they sold him to a trader, and the baby found his way into the world of the black market. He was given many names as he passed from the hands of traders and masters alike, until he was old enough to make one for himself. Hawkins was the surname of the bandit who first sold him, and that was what had stuck with him the longest, so it also became his surname. Grim was the first name given to him, for his first master decided he smiled too much and was determined to change that. Pariah was the last. He first heard the word when he was nine by his second master, the day he was kicked out of the house and staked to the side of a mountain road to die. He was a pariah then, and Pariah he became. He gave it to himself, and it made him who he was. Gypsies rescued him and sold him right back into the salve trading world. Five silver coins. That's how much his pathetic life cost. He had never really realized till then just how cheap a child's life could be. Five silver coins could buy you a mind, body, heart, and soul for you to break and rend then build and mend as you please. And so on continued his unstable crawl through life as he was bought and sold. He found some strength in himself despite how trapped and desperate he always felt. A black market slave at the mercy of his masters, he longs for freedom from them, even if it means death. Being bought is his only vision of getting out of this place. While others would resort easily to violence, his nature could not handle killing another or even taking his own life. Some do view him as sadistic, as he tends to delve into morbid and horrible ramblings whenever he's in one of his moods. He never acts on his dark thoughts though. He knows better, but the temptation is always there, picking and poking at him, trying to make him give in and maybe give up. It is strongest on those nights, when the world is especially cruel, and Lady Luck turns her back on him, creating for him a world of hurt and despair. Even beyond his beginnings and history, there is something that worries him more than anything. It would be devastating if anyone found out he has a chronic, unknown illness as no one would buy him and he'd be stuck here forever. He can't bear the thought of always being a slave. Deep down at least. He surely has been broken into a slave's life and mentality, having been formed as one from so young an age, but perhaps the gods, in all their mystery, have looked down on him and seen his suffering, and so instill a part of him deep inside that can never be broken, and once freed, perhaps give him the new life and meaning he craves for. He hardly knows it himself just how strong he really is. Most of the time, he is hiding from something, having a variety of fears. Mostly your typical fears that thirteen year olds face. He hates heights and is terrified of thunder. he also hates deep water, but isn't confronted by that fear enough for it to be noticed. A more subtle, ever there fear is his paranoia that no one will adopt him if they discover two of his greatest flaws: these being his illness and his waking nightmares. His waking nightmares are vivid dreams that he cannot wake from. Even if someone were to shake him or yell or slap him, he wouldn't respond, only able to wake up when the dream allows him. He's had them since he was nine, around the same time he was left out to die in the mountains. But then there is his illness. It is a mysterious disease and rather grotesque. It's signs and symptoms include migraines, coughing blood, brittle bones, and severe tenderness, where any small prick or bump will cause excruciating pain. Most of the time, he can get away with it as the severity of the symptoms come and go. But it is considered dangerous and possibly deadly. He searches for a cur, despite every healer and physician telling him there is none. He wont give up, and that is the source of his strength. His determination and belief in himself haven't died from him fully. Yet.
Age: 13
Gender: Male
Height: 4'
Weight: 80lbs
Race: Dragonblood (water variety)
Weapons and abilities:
Can wield water at will and communicate with dragons.
Personality:
Self-sacrificing and possessing low self esteem, he hardly believes he's worth anything. He is mostly defeatist, but secretly clings to hope. He deigns hope as a curse. He can be moody, but bottles it up.
Bio/Story :
Pariah means "outcast", but even that definition does not truly denote what such a word means. Pariahs are more than outcasts, ignored and downtrodden. Pariahs are the ones no one has even heard of, for their existence has so been wiped from memory that they may as well have never been born. They are pushed past the fringes of society to feed on the scraps. In passing on the street, they have become invisible. They can scream and cry and still no one will hear them. For they are pariahs, untouchables, abominations. And such a word was given to Pariah Grim Hawkins to forever be his name. No one really know what to make of him, and he hardly knows what to make of himself. He never knew his family, had any friends, or made any sorts of acquaintances that might have helped and bettered him through his life. No, instead, he was left scrounging in streets and crawling through gutters, because that is the life left to orphans without names and faces. If anyone had really known of this particular child's significance, perhaps things would have turned out differently for him than what life offered. He's never had the option of being given silver spoons and platters. Life was thrown at him messy and raw since day one and it continues to show him just how much degradation it has left to spit out in his face. When radicals attacked his village of dragon worshippers, they slaughtered his people, making sure to leave none alive. But as with every plan, there are the loopholes and the mismanaged gaps. Through one such crack slipped two young dragon worshippers, and they ran from the village. They survived. Three years later, the male, died. The female discovered only a week later that she was pregnant with the deceased's child. And in the middle of the fourth year, she died delivering their son: one of the last dragon worshippers in existence born with the blood of the water dragon. He was born in the home of an old werewolf healer who did her best to raise the child. But only a year later, she too was taken from the world by bandits. They would have killed the little boy, but money breeds greed, and so they sold him to a trader, and the baby found his way into the world of the black market. He was given many names as he passed from the hands of traders and masters alike, until he was old enough to make one for himself. Hawkins was the surname of the bandit who first sold him, and that was what had stuck with him the longest, so it also became his surname. Grim was the first name given to him, for his first master decided he smiled too much and was determined to change that. Pariah was the last. He first heard the word when he was nine by his second master, the day he was kicked out of the house and staked to the side of a mountain road to die. He was a pariah then, and Pariah he became. He gave it to himself, and it made him who he was. Gypsies rescued him and sold him right back into the salve trading world. Five silver coins. That's how much his pathetic life cost. He had never really realized till then just how cheap a child's life could be. Five silver coins could buy you a mind, body, heart, and soul for you to break and rend then build and mend as you please. And so on continued his unstable crawl through life as he was bought and sold. He found some strength in himself despite how trapped and desperate he always felt. A black market slave at the mercy of his masters, he longs for freedom from them, even if it means death. Being bought is his only vision of getting out of this place. While others would resort easily to violence, his nature could not handle killing another or even taking his own life. Some do view him as sadistic, as he tends to delve into morbid and horrible ramblings whenever he's in one of his moods. He never acts on his dark thoughts though. He knows better, but the temptation is always there, picking and poking at him, trying to make him give in and maybe give up. It is strongest on those nights, when the world is especially cruel, and Lady Luck turns her back on him, creating for him a world of hurt and despair. Even beyond his beginnings and history, there is something that worries him more than anything. It would be devastating if anyone found out he has a chronic, unknown illness as no one would buy him and he'd be stuck here forever. He can't bear the thought of always being a slave. Deep down at least. He surely has been broken into a slave's life and mentality, having been formed as one from so young an age, but perhaps the gods, in all their mystery, have looked down on him and seen his suffering, and so instill a part of him deep inside that can never be broken, and once freed, perhaps give him the new life and meaning he craves for. He hardly knows it himself just how strong he really is. Most of the time, he is hiding from something, having a variety of fears. Mostly your typical fears that thirteen year olds face. He hates heights and is terrified of thunder. he also hates deep water, but isn't confronted by that fear enough for it to be noticed. A more subtle, ever there fear is his paranoia that no one will adopt him if they discover two of his greatest flaws: these being his illness and his waking nightmares. His waking nightmares are vivid dreams that he cannot wake from. Even if someone were to shake him or yell or slap him, he wouldn't respond, only able to wake up when the dream allows him. He's had them since he was nine, around the same time he was left out to die in the mountains. But then there is his illness. It is a mysterious disease and rather grotesque. It's signs and symptoms include migraines, coughing blood, brittle bones, and severe tenderness, where any small prick or bump will cause excruciating pain. Most of the time, he can get away with it as the severity of the symptoms come and go. But it is considered dangerous and possibly deadly. He searches for a cur, despite every healer and physician telling him there is none. He wont give up, and that is the source of his strength. His determination and belief in himself haven't died from him fully. Yet.
Sadri Al-kethe
bounty hunter
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/416537.jpg?472)
Name: Sadri Al-kethe
Age: 40
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 190lbs
Race: Daelf (a draconic demon spirit and elf hybrid)
Weapons and abilities: Weapons include punch daggers, poison darts, and varied knives. He can breathe fire, turn invisible, withstand certain injuries, and can extend his spikes for use in combat.
Personality: Hateful with a dash of spite, it's no wonder he doesn't get along with people. Sadri feels that forming attachments is weak, therefore bent on destroying any sort of 'relationship' before it can begin. He seems nice and docile at first, and he'll even talk pleasantly for a while, but if you try to get a little closer, he'll turn right around and knock that thought out of your head. He can also be a bit arrogant, often lording his superiority over his targets before he finishes them off. He doesn't seem to be afraid of death. While that can be a strength, it leads him to reckless and sometimes stupid behavior more than courage and self-sacrifice.
coming soon
Sadri Al-kethe was born and raised underground in the ancient lair of an Elder Dragon. It was there he learned of the true lords of fire and the sky. But the Elder Dragons were gone or locked in a deep slumber. As for the rest of his kind, the Daelf, they were so few and far between that no one would even blink if they passed to extinction.
****
A Bit Of A Relevant Story
Sadri blinked and sat up. Everything around him was blurry. He rubbed his eyes, waited for his vision to clear, and found himself looking up at a signpost that read, "Village of Fyers".
The nature of how the village came to be is unknown to Sadri. How he came to be in the village is also beyond him. He spent months trapped there, fighting hordes of dead, demons, and undead dragons. He barely escaped with his life, and he continues to lose it ever after, for when he escaped, he did not escape unscathed. He bears a curse. A curse that will eat away at him until it touches his soul and he dies.
Age: 40
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 190lbs
Race: Daelf (a draconic demon spirit and elf hybrid)
Weapons and abilities: Weapons include punch daggers, poison darts, and varied knives. He can breathe fire, turn invisible, withstand certain injuries, and can extend his spikes for use in combat.
Personality: Hateful with a dash of spite, it's no wonder he doesn't get along with people. Sadri feels that forming attachments is weak, therefore bent on destroying any sort of 'relationship' before it can begin. He seems nice and docile at first, and he'll even talk pleasantly for a while, but if you try to get a little closer, he'll turn right around and knock that thought out of your head. He can also be a bit arrogant, often lording his superiority over his targets before he finishes them off. He doesn't seem to be afraid of death. While that can be a strength, it leads him to reckless and sometimes stupid behavior more than courage and self-sacrifice.
coming soon
Sadri Al-kethe was born and raised underground in the ancient lair of an Elder Dragon. It was there he learned of the true lords of fire and the sky. But the Elder Dragons were gone or locked in a deep slumber. As for the rest of his kind, the Daelf, they were so few and far between that no one would even blink if they passed to extinction.
****
A Bit Of A Relevant Story
Sadri blinked and sat up. Everything around him was blurry. He rubbed his eyes, waited for his vision to clear, and found himself looking up at a signpost that read, "Village of Fyers".
The nature of how the village came to be is unknown to Sadri. How he came to be in the village is also beyond him. He spent months trapped there, fighting hordes of dead, demons, and undead dragons. He barely escaped with his life, and he continues to lose it ever after, for when he escaped, he did not escape unscathed. He bears a curse. A curse that will eat away at him until it touches his soul and he dies.
Mother Sien
priestess
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/8752357.jpg?422)
Name: Sien (pronounced shane)
Age: 127
Gender: Female
Height: 5' 11"
Weight:
Race: Blødheyl Fae
Weapons/abilities: Can create Lesser Fae, can manipulate shadows and lava, can summon demons, can speak to dragons, can phase through things, can trap people in an alternate nightmare world and torture them inside it, can control others with a whisper, has varied other magic.
Bio/Story:
Blødheyl Fae are a very ancient and dark race of fae whose origins stem back to archaic magic. They are pale blue skinned beings with luminescent hair and glowing eyes. Sien was born over a century ago and was raised in the Blødheyl kingdom of darkness. She trained hard in the ways of fighting, the kill, and magic. When she was eighteen, she was chosen by the Sisterhood to be raised in their ways. So she went there, choosing a life of religion and murder, which would shape her into the woman she is today. After so many years, she has become the Mother, the most powerful of all Blødheyl Fae and their undisputed leader. She was recently called to Valentino by the divine goddess Yomu. For what reason, she does not know, but she shall wander and serve her goddess and await Yomu's next orders.
Sien is cold and ambitious in the name of Yomu. She loves the goddess more than she loves herself. As all of her Sisterhood, they view themselves as mere followers of Yomu's will, knowing their lives are at Yomu's command and are meaningless without such command. Sien is not reckless though, no. Yomu shall call for her soul when her days are at an end. She will not throw herself into danger for the sake of it. It would be a waste of so many years that could be put to the service of Yomu.
Sien loves the Yokami, and any she finds, she helps, loves, and protects. As Mother Sien, she is, to those who believe such things, the embodiment of the motherhood of Yomu. As Yokami are Yomu's children, so they are Sien's. Sien does not control them. She does not manipulate them nor cause their undoing. She protects, preserves, and assists. If they need her help, she will give it. She has no preference of one over the other. Even if two are at war with each other, she shall serve them both. She will not interfere in things the goddess has not ordered her to though. If a Yokami asks her to fight with him in a war, she must first hear the will of Yomu before she may proceed. Usually Yomu says no, and so she will obediently wait, even if it pains her to watch the Yokami fight and die alone.
Sien is often seen wandering graveyards and singing softly over the dead. She sings to bring peace to any souls who stir in the worlds between or beyond. She sings to return lost ones to their rightful paths. She loves the dead, not in the morbid, psychotic love that is seen in the defective of mind, but she embraces them for they are a natural part of the world as is life. It seems odd that one so dark can even embrace the concept of life. She can. Life and death balance each other. She may prefer death and the dead, but only for her religion's sake, not because of a disturbed mind.
Age: 127
Gender: Female
Height: 5' 11"
Weight:
Race: Blødheyl Fae
Weapons/abilities: Can create Lesser Fae, can manipulate shadows and lava, can summon demons, can speak to dragons, can phase through things, can trap people in an alternate nightmare world and torture them inside it, can control others with a whisper, has varied other magic.
Bio/Story:
Blødheyl Fae are a very ancient and dark race of fae whose origins stem back to archaic magic. They are pale blue skinned beings with luminescent hair and glowing eyes. Sien was born over a century ago and was raised in the Blødheyl kingdom of darkness. She trained hard in the ways of fighting, the kill, and magic. When she was eighteen, she was chosen by the Sisterhood to be raised in their ways. So she went there, choosing a life of religion and murder, which would shape her into the woman she is today. After so many years, she has become the Mother, the most powerful of all Blødheyl Fae and their undisputed leader. She was recently called to Valentino by the divine goddess Yomu. For what reason, she does not know, but she shall wander and serve her goddess and await Yomu's next orders.
Sien is cold and ambitious in the name of Yomu. She loves the goddess more than she loves herself. As all of her Sisterhood, they view themselves as mere followers of Yomu's will, knowing their lives are at Yomu's command and are meaningless without such command. Sien is not reckless though, no. Yomu shall call for her soul when her days are at an end. She will not throw herself into danger for the sake of it. It would be a waste of so many years that could be put to the service of Yomu.
Sien loves the Yokami, and any she finds, she helps, loves, and protects. As Mother Sien, she is, to those who believe such things, the embodiment of the motherhood of Yomu. As Yokami are Yomu's children, so they are Sien's. Sien does not control them. She does not manipulate them nor cause their undoing. She protects, preserves, and assists. If they need her help, she will give it. She has no preference of one over the other. Even if two are at war with each other, she shall serve them both. She will not interfere in things the goddess has not ordered her to though. If a Yokami asks her to fight with him in a war, she must first hear the will of Yomu before she may proceed. Usually Yomu says no, and so she will obediently wait, even if it pains her to watch the Yokami fight and die alone.
Sien is often seen wandering graveyards and singing softly over the dead. She sings to bring peace to any souls who stir in the worlds between or beyond. She sings to return lost ones to their rightful paths. She loves the dead, not in the morbid, psychotic love that is seen in the defective of mind, but she embraces them for they are a natural part of the world as is life. It seems odd that one so dark can even embrace the concept of life. She can. Life and death balance each other. She may prefer death and the dead, but only for her religion's sake, not because of a disturbed mind.
beggar
Bongo
wanderer
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/__230189.png)
Bongo
Turtle-duck
Bongo is a talking, levitating turtle duck with a mind of his own. He is undeniably adorable and really acts cute, usually without intending to. Those big green eyes and that fluffy brown face are just full of love. Even for a little turtle-duck, he's had many adventures with his friends and is much smarter than he looks from all that he's learned. Bongo enjoys swimming, sleeping, and rolling in grass. He is oddly allergic to pineapple.
Turtle-duck
Bongo is a talking, levitating turtle duck with a mind of his own. He is undeniably adorable and really acts cute, usually without intending to. Those big green eyes and that fluffy brown face are just full of love. Even for a little turtle-duck, he's had many adventures with his friends and is much smarter than he looks from all that he's learned. Bongo enjoys swimming, sleeping, and rolling in grass. He is oddly allergic to pineapple.
Lem Nemkamuerin
bard
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/__3223090.jpg)
Name: Lem Nemkameurin
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 140 lbs
Race: Vila
Weapons and abilities:
Shoot fire. Ethereal song could charm others. Twin rapiers with black leather wrapped handles and white guards.
Personality:
Extremely bipolar. Usually kind and gentle, but capable of great ferocity. Easily unhinged. Has a raging temper. Loves music, singing, nature, and meeting people.
Bio/Story :
"In all my wanderings and all my life, I never found a song more beautiful than words as the song a heartbeat makes. Perhaps because it is the song of life, and it's absence is the sound of death."
Lem is perhaps the oddest creature you will ever find, and not for the fact that he is a Vila, but for the fact that he is a "he", for you must understand that to common knowledge, male Vila don't exist. Yet here he is, standing in plain sight, with all his species' powers and flaws and looks and attributes, yet completely and undeniably male. For those who don't know of the existence of Vila -which considering their rarity is not so uncommon- seeing Lem is not such a shock. Most people hardly know what it all entails except perhaps his ethereal voice and incredible use of instruments and language is beyond anything most ever witness. But for those who understand what this might imply, they are usually pleasantly surprised. For Lem, quite a bit of his life was spent avoiding people. His mother warned him that there would be those who would wish to take advantage of his rarity for their profit. He never met such people, but for the first ten years of his life, lived mostly in solitude. It was during this time he picked up an instrument and learned to play. The natural gift sparked in him, and he played and learned and played more. Then he went into the world at eleven. Ran away to a bard’s school. And there he continued to play and learn and sing. He traveled the world, studying and watching people, spreading entertainment where he could. But his favored times are the small ones that seemed to matter most. He played for an old hunter as they awaited a carriage. He sang by himself once in the woods, and birds joined in. He played for a room of wounded soldiers while passing through. He cares not for large audiences and enormous crowds, only entering into so if he needs to play for the money. He prefers being by himself, though will follow the odd company or two in hopes of being inspired for a new song or story. Strange and quite hard to comprehend, Lem Nemkamuerin is one of a kind in the realm of Valentino. As a bard, he feels well placed in his profession, besides having chosen it: great singing voice, comprehension of rhyme, rhythm, and language, instrument playing talent. But there are some differences between him and his fellow house members. For one, he has terrible, often violent mood swings. Most bards are gentle, fierce, and the more infamous use honeyed words and romantic drivel to woo their way through thick and thin. But not Lem, no. He flips up and down like a saw being driven against a plank. Some say he is bipolar, which is probably true but his family never found out. He also suffers from some kind of memory loss and usually has to write things down in order to remember. He has impressive creative abilities: singing and poetry. He’s always writing, memorizing, or reciting poetry. And as for his singing… well where to begin. He is the son of Vila, father currently and perhaps forever to be, unknown. It’s obvious now where his beauty and singing talent comes from. And that brings up another point: his beauty. He has black hair, darker than night, and it falls in his face, with as much softness and delicacy to it as gossamer. His eyes are bright blue that seem to shine, as if the very ocean itself was aglow. He has pale, flawless skin, inhumanly pale to the point that it’s almost unreal. Like the Vila, he has their abilities. When angry, he can shoot fire from his hands, but this inner magic drains him considerably and he gets quite tired very fast afterwards. He can’t quite sprout wings yet, like other Vila can when angry, and many doubt he will be able to. After all, he’s not female. He can be very protective though, and seeing people hurt can throw him into a frenzy very quickly, one with fury enough to match the Vila. Though considered this beautiful, malevolent being, Lem carries a much harsher side of Vila tempers. He is quick to anger and quick to act. They are all angry, as has been mentioned a few times, but his moods and temperaments change drastically so quickly, it is hard to ever predict what he might do when. This is only a part of Lem’s entirety, for there are many secrets that he holds that have not quite been discovered.
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 140 lbs
Race: Vila
Weapons and abilities:
Shoot fire. Ethereal song could charm others. Twin rapiers with black leather wrapped handles and white guards.
Personality:
Extremely bipolar. Usually kind and gentle, but capable of great ferocity. Easily unhinged. Has a raging temper. Loves music, singing, nature, and meeting people.
Bio/Story :
"In all my wanderings and all my life, I never found a song more beautiful than words as the song a heartbeat makes. Perhaps because it is the song of life, and it's absence is the sound of death."
Lem is perhaps the oddest creature you will ever find, and not for the fact that he is a Vila, but for the fact that he is a "he", for you must understand that to common knowledge, male Vila don't exist. Yet here he is, standing in plain sight, with all his species' powers and flaws and looks and attributes, yet completely and undeniably male. For those who don't know of the existence of Vila -which considering their rarity is not so uncommon- seeing Lem is not such a shock. Most people hardly know what it all entails except perhaps his ethereal voice and incredible use of instruments and language is beyond anything most ever witness. But for those who understand what this might imply, they are usually pleasantly surprised. For Lem, quite a bit of his life was spent avoiding people. His mother warned him that there would be those who would wish to take advantage of his rarity for their profit. He never met such people, but for the first ten years of his life, lived mostly in solitude. It was during this time he picked up an instrument and learned to play. The natural gift sparked in him, and he played and learned and played more. Then he went into the world at eleven. Ran away to a bard’s school. And there he continued to play and learn and sing. He traveled the world, studying and watching people, spreading entertainment where he could. But his favored times are the small ones that seemed to matter most. He played for an old hunter as they awaited a carriage. He sang by himself once in the woods, and birds joined in. He played for a room of wounded soldiers while passing through. He cares not for large audiences and enormous crowds, only entering into so if he needs to play for the money. He prefers being by himself, though will follow the odd company or two in hopes of being inspired for a new song or story. Strange and quite hard to comprehend, Lem Nemkamuerin is one of a kind in the realm of Valentino. As a bard, he feels well placed in his profession, besides having chosen it: great singing voice, comprehension of rhyme, rhythm, and language, instrument playing talent. But there are some differences between him and his fellow house members. For one, he has terrible, often violent mood swings. Most bards are gentle, fierce, and the more infamous use honeyed words and romantic drivel to woo their way through thick and thin. But not Lem, no. He flips up and down like a saw being driven against a plank. Some say he is bipolar, which is probably true but his family never found out. He also suffers from some kind of memory loss and usually has to write things down in order to remember. He has impressive creative abilities: singing and poetry. He’s always writing, memorizing, or reciting poetry. And as for his singing… well where to begin. He is the son of Vila, father currently and perhaps forever to be, unknown. It’s obvious now where his beauty and singing talent comes from. And that brings up another point: his beauty. He has black hair, darker than night, and it falls in his face, with as much softness and delicacy to it as gossamer. His eyes are bright blue that seem to shine, as if the very ocean itself was aglow. He has pale, flawless skin, inhumanly pale to the point that it’s almost unreal. Like the Vila, he has their abilities. When angry, he can shoot fire from his hands, but this inner magic drains him considerably and he gets quite tired very fast afterwards. He can’t quite sprout wings yet, like other Vila can when angry, and many doubt he will be able to. After all, he’s not female. He can be very protective though, and seeing people hurt can throw him into a frenzy very quickly, one with fury enough to match the Vila. Though considered this beautiful, malevolent being, Lem carries a much harsher side of Vila tempers. He is quick to anger and quick to act. They are all angry, as has been mentioned a few times, but his moods and temperaments change drastically so quickly, it is hard to ever predict what he might do when. This is only a part of Lem’s entirety, for there are many secrets that he holds that have not quite been discovered.
Horus Solek Amurkahn
wanderer (_)
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/5657688.jpg?312)
coming soon
Ezzelin Bakerose
bandit
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/__6196652.jpg)
Name: Ezzelin Bakerose
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Weight: 182 lbs
Race: Satyr
Weapons and abilities:
Stylized ebony war knife with a curved, serrated blade. A katana with a green wrapping on the hilt and a sheath embossed with golden dragons on black polished wood. A golden and jade tanto with a red ball and white tassel on the sheath. Varied throwing knives and daggers spread out about his person.
Personality: Ezzelin loves fighting and enjoys the rush of adrenalin in a chase or a high risk heist as such the thieves are known for. He is also very violent and acquainted finely when it comes to killing arts and defensive work. He values life to an extent. He would never harm an animal, for it is a creature driven by instinct and has no rational thought, whereas he has no qualms killing a sentient being, as when it attacks him or he attacks it, it has all the rational capabilities to harm him. He also does not believe in mercy, seeing it as a sign of weakness and an inability to finish what was started. if one cannot deal the killing blow, they never should have entered the fight to begin with. Such is his philosophy, and that is what makes him most dangerous, more even than his skill.
Bio/Story :
Ezzelin Bakerose does not really belong out here in Valentino. He came from out Southeast across the sea. Well versed in arts of secrecy, stealth, and projectile weapons, he was first drawn to the military, until an unfortunate circumstance landed him with a thief family. Not that they were the unfortunate part or anything. He now serves the family and has proved to be valuable and reliable. He doesn't tell about his past, and they don't pry. It is his own to deal with, and he hates to recall it, even for his own sake. It's unclear wether he merely despises it for it was terrible or perhaps because he misses it. Even Ezzelin isn't quite sure. He loves his life here with the family, and wouldn't want to part of it. But there's something lacking, he says, not in them, but in himself. And he wants to find whatever it is. Something within him yearns to be out there. Perhaps it is the call of adventure or the wild blood that flies through his veins. He's always in the outside, weaving through trees and following rivers. He was born as a nature spirit and a spirit of nature he will always be. For he is a satyr. Most satyrs stick to respectable, healing orientations, but Ezzelin has always been a bit of a defiant one. He certainly doesn't seem so Satyr-like upon first meeting him, for he appears rather different in a way that makes the very nature of his race pale. Ezzelin is defined as handsome, exotic, and stylish. He wears clothing traditional of his far away roots, made of fine, sturdy cloths that are both lightweight and protective. Baggy pants of purple with gold designs on the sides, though he insists they are words. A strange girdle about his waist made of two different sashes wrapped about his waist with armored plating about the middle and flanking his hips. In the back just over the small curve of the spine, his varied weapons are kept in their separate sheaths, with a knife belt coming around from the back to rest on his upper thigh. He wears a thin, sleeveless shirt for more mobility. Plated boots and armored gauntlets protect his lower legs and arms respectively. On his arm, he has a tattoo of a red phoenix. His skin is fair, not necessarily pale but close enough. His straight, brown hair is kept short so it never obscures his vision, and he keeps it as neat as can be despite its wild tendencies. His horns are also short, and usually are hidden by his hair. It often detracts from how formal and respectable as he aims to appear. His narrowed eyes are dark brown till they're pretty much black. Only in very bright, direct light will one notice they is actually brown in them. Because of his lack of defined horns and that his legs are not so exaggerated of goat shape, it is assumed he is only half-Satyr. But he is full. He has all their strengths and weaknesses, having the ability to jump and leap with grace and ease, balance at precarious heights, blend into the forest, and other attributes as only a creature of the wild can possess. But even though he is defined as Satyr, he is not a stereotypical one.
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Weight: 182 lbs
Race: Satyr
Weapons and abilities:
Stylized ebony war knife with a curved, serrated blade. A katana with a green wrapping on the hilt and a sheath embossed with golden dragons on black polished wood. A golden and jade tanto with a red ball and white tassel on the sheath. Varied throwing knives and daggers spread out about his person.
Personality: Ezzelin loves fighting and enjoys the rush of adrenalin in a chase or a high risk heist as such the thieves are known for. He is also very violent and acquainted finely when it comes to killing arts and defensive work. He values life to an extent. He would never harm an animal, for it is a creature driven by instinct and has no rational thought, whereas he has no qualms killing a sentient being, as when it attacks him or he attacks it, it has all the rational capabilities to harm him. He also does not believe in mercy, seeing it as a sign of weakness and an inability to finish what was started. if one cannot deal the killing blow, they never should have entered the fight to begin with. Such is his philosophy, and that is what makes him most dangerous, more even than his skill.
Bio/Story :
Ezzelin Bakerose does not really belong out here in Valentino. He came from out Southeast across the sea. Well versed in arts of secrecy, stealth, and projectile weapons, he was first drawn to the military, until an unfortunate circumstance landed him with a thief family. Not that they were the unfortunate part or anything. He now serves the family and has proved to be valuable and reliable. He doesn't tell about his past, and they don't pry. It is his own to deal with, and he hates to recall it, even for his own sake. It's unclear wether he merely despises it for it was terrible or perhaps because he misses it. Even Ezzelin isn't quite sure. He loves his life here with the family, and wouldn't want to part of it. But there's something lacking, he says, not in them, but in himself. And he wants to find whatever it is. Something within him yearns to be out there. Perhaps it is the call of adventure or the wild blood that flies through his veins. He's always in the outside, weaving through trees and following rivers. He was born as a nature spirit and a spirit of nature he will always be. For he is a satyr. Most satyrs stick to respectable, healing orientations, but Ezzelin has always been a bit of a defiant one. He certainly doesn't seem so Satyr-like upon first meeting him, for he appears rather different in a way that makes the very nature of his race pale. Ezzelin is defined as handsome, exotic, and stylish. He wears clothing traditional of his far away roots, made of fine, sturdy cloths that are both lightweight and protective. Baggy pants of purple with gold designs on the sides, though he insists they are words. A strange girdle about his waist made of two different sashes wrapped about his waist with armored plating about the middle and flanking his hips. In the back just over the small curve of the spine, his varied weapons are kept in their separate sheaths, with a knife belt coming around from the back to rest on his upper thigh. He wears a thin, sleeveless shirt for more mobility. Plated boots and armored gauntlets protect his lower legs and arms respectively. On his arm, he has a tattoo of a red phoenix. His skin is fair, not necessarily pale but close enough. His straight, brown hair is kept short so it never obscures his vision, and he keeps it as neat as can be despite its wild tendencies. His horns are also short, and usually are hidden by his hair. It often detracts from how formal and respectable as he aims to appear. His narrowed eyes are dark brown till they're pretty much black. Only in very bright, direct light will one notice they is actually brown in them. Because of his lack of defined horns and that his legs are not so exaggerated of goat shape, it is assumed he is only half-Satyr. But he is full. He has all their strengths and weaknesses, having the ability to jump and leap with grace and ease, balance at precarious heights, blend into the forest, and other attributes as only a creature of the wild can possess. But even though he is defined as Satyr, he is not a stereotypical one.
murderer
refugee
Eren Hale
traitor / Hale family, bannermen to House Tskera
![Picture](/uploads/1/4/5/9/14590338/2888030.jpg?391)
Name: Eren Hale
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Weight: 220 lbs
Race: Djinn
Weapons and abilities: Seeing all planes, become invisible on lower planes, shapeshifting temporarily, planting base desires in other's minds, changing one type of matter into another, possesses a pair of wings normally not visible on lower planes.
Bio/Story:
Eren Hale was born with a traitor's blood pumping through his veins. That is what they say anyway. It is not his fault that he finds corruption wherever he goes. It is not his fault that he has a soul and a conscience that will not rest until he has done something to stop said corruption, even if it means turning on those who trust him. Some idiot apparently told him to listen to his heart and do what is right above all else, and he actually decided to follow that advice. So now he is labeled a traitor, twice over, after going against the whims and desires of evil kings and queens. Eren Hale grew up in the Valentino kingdom, but at age eight, he was kidnapped and sold into slavery in a Southeastern kingdom. He was passed off from buyer to buyer before he saw an opportunity. He disguised himself as a girl and was bought by a wealthy nobleman as a child wife. When he arrived at his new home as night fell, he threw off his disguise, stole a dagger, and tried to kill his master. The master woke with a start and pinned him down rather easily. Discovering he had been tricked, the master became angry. But it seemed that Eren was rather lucky. Instead of getting angry and killing him, the man just laughed and praised Eren for his ingenuity, saying how it had to take a lot to fool him and none had done so in such a manner before. Eren was confused by the change, but the man assured him he was not going to kill him. Instead, he began Eren's training as a spy. Eren was very good at it and excelled in varied missions. He took to the job like flies to honey and he continued to please and impress his master for several years. When the King heard word of Eren's prowess, the boy was placed as a Second Espionage Advisor to the military. He began to direct the missions and took charge of over thirty spies, all in his care and direction. When he was fifteen, however, horrible things happened. He found the King was secretly taking people from their homes, humiliating them, beating them, and pitting them against each other for his own amusement. Eren was disturbed by this information, and he warned his spies to only report these activities to him. He went to investigate the matter on his own, and that was when he met Glass-boy, a little boy of maybe ten, not much older than Eren had been when he was in slavery. Glass-boy was a very feminine, helpless boy, often teased and beaten down for being so delicate and pathetic, and that was why they gave him that name. Eren felt sorry for him, and he would talk with him in Glass-boy's cell. Glass-boy told him of everything that happened in the prisons and what the King was doing. In return, Eren taught Glass-boy how to defend himself. Glass may be fragile and easily broken, but it can also be sharp. Glass-boy managed to survive his first night fighting, and Eren was able to gather his spies and tell them his plot to stop the King. He and the thirty spies attacked the underground chamber where the torture and fighting took place. They did not expect the King to actually be there that night. They had only planned to take out the guards and free the people. But the King himself and his most trusted advisors and councilors were there. They did not take the attack very well. Eren had almost killed the King in the pandemonium, and as a result, he was arrested and sentenced to death. Chained to a ruin with magic, two guards were posted there and made him stare into the sun. This went on for days until he was permanently blinded. His eyes have a dark red ring around the sightless, smooth, white eyes that now rest in his sockets. His escape is a complete mystery. But he did manage to go back to the city and free Glass-boy from the clutches of the King's underground guards. They traveled to a volcanic country and its city of Firebloom. Firebloom was at the mercy of dragons, and Eren and Glass-boy, having no knowledge of the place or its beasts, were left in the dark about the whole thing. The citizens lay in wait for them to go to sleep, then they beat them down, grabbed Glass-boy, bound him up, and tied him out in the volcano country as a sort of peace offering to the dragons. Furious, Eren went after him. He managed to get there just in time, for the dragon was about to snatch Glass-boy up. Eren called out to the dragon and told him that the supposed delicious maiden he was taking was actually a boy. The dragon was slightly confused, to which Eren stated how he had to keep an eye on Glass-boy at all times in order to fend off all his suitors. The dragon found this a most amusing turn of events. He didn't eat them, saying it would be a shame to kill such amusing creatures. Eren found himself a slave once more, this time to powerful dragons who lived in the heart of a volcano. He and Glass-boy served them and worshipped them, coming to respect and revere their masters, whom they found to be like gods. They fought with the dragons and traveled everywhere they went. But one war they fought ended in Glass-boy's death. Eren was rather shaken at the loss of his friend. The dragon he served told him he was free, for it would only be right. No reason for two good men to die as slaves. Eren wandered from the dragons' home land and eventually found himself in Valentino. It was there he heard of the atrocious things done by Queen Ezerona, the Betrayer of Dragons. Still full of rage and grief, he recklessly attempted to kill her. He was easily subdued, being in no state to shake his captors free. He was exiled, only because no one knew him or why the attempt had been done. He eventually found his brother who just barely recognized him from all those years ago. And that is when Eren was reunited with his old name: Eren Hale. He joined up with Leviathan then and House Tskera to take down the Queen. Having been separated for so long, Eren feels a lot like a stranger to Leviathan. He knows he probably isn't the brother Leviathan wanted, and Leviathan certainly is not what he expected either. He tries to work to get to know him, but continually feels as though he is failing.
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Weight: 220 lbs
Race: Djinn
Weapons and abilities: Seeing all planes, become invisible on lower planes, shapeshifting temporarily, planting base desires in other's minds, changing one type of matter into another, possesses a pair of wings normally not visible on lower planes.
Bio/Story:
Eren Hale was born with a traitor's blood pumping through his veins. That is what they say anyway. It is not his fault that he finds corruption wherever he goes. It is not his fault that he has a soul and a conscience that will not rest until he has done something to stop said corruption, even if it means turning on those who trust him. Some idiot apparently told him to listen to his heart and do what is right above all else, and he actually decided to follow that advice. So now he is labeled a traitor, twice over, after going against the whims and desires of evil kings and queens. Eren Hale grew up in the Valentino kingdom, but at age eight, he was kidnapped and sold into slavery in a Southeastern kingdom. He was passed off from buyer to buyer before he saw an opportunity. He disguised himself as a girl and was bought by a wealthy nobleman as a child wife. When he arrived at his new home as night fell, he threw off his disguise, stole a dagger, and tried to kill his master. The master woke with a start and pinned him down rather easily. Discovering he had been tricked, the master became angry. But it seemed that Eren was rather lucky. Instead of getting angry and killing him, the man just laughed and praised Eren for his ingenuity, saying how it had to take a lot to fool him and none had done so in such a manner before. Eren was confused by the change, but the man assured him he was not going to kill him. Instead, he began Eren's training as a spy. Eren was very good at it and excelled in varied missions. He took to the job like flies to honey and he continued to please and impress his master for several years. When the King heard word of Eren's prowess, the boy was placed as a Second Espionage Advisor to the military. He began to direct the missions and took charge of over thirty spies, all in his care and direction. When he was fifteen, however, horrible things happened. He found the King was secretly taking people from their homes, humiliating them, beating them, and pitting them against each other for his own amusement. Eren was disturbed by this information, and he warned his spies to only report these activities to him. He went to investigate the matter on his own, and that was when he met Glass-boy, a little boy of maybe ten, not much older than Eren had been when he was in slavery. Glass-boy was a very feminine, helpless boy, often teased and beaten down for being so delicate and pathetic, and that was why they gave him that name. Eren felt sorry for him, and he would talk with him in Glass-boy's cell. Glass-boy told him of everything that happened in the prisons and what the King was doing. In return, Eren taught Glass-boy how to defend himself. Glass may be fragile and easily broken, but it can also be sharp. Glass-boy managed to survive his first night fighting, and Eren was able to gather his spies and tell them his plot to stop the King. He and the thirty spies attacked the underground chamber where the torture and fighting took place. They did not expect the King to actually be there that night. They had only planned to take out the guards and free the people. But the King himself and his most trusted advisors and councilors were there. They did not take the attack very well. Eren had almost killed the King in the pandemonium, and as a result, he was arrested and sentenced to death. Chained to a ruin with magic, two guards were posted there and made him stare into the sun. This went on for days until he was permanently blinded. His eyes have a dark red ring around the sightless, smooth, white eyes that now rest in his sockets. His escape is a complete mystery. But he did manage to go back to the city and free Glass-boy from the clutches of the King's underground guards. They traveled to a volcanic country and its city of Firebloom. Firebloom was at the mercy of dragons, and Eren and Glass-boy, having no knowledge of the place or its beasts, were left in the dark about the whole thing. The citizens lay in wait for them to go to sleep, then they beat them down, grabbed Glass-boy, bound him up, and tied him out in the volcano country as a sort of peace offering to the dragons. Furious, Eren went after him. He managed to get there just in time, for the dragon was about to snatch Glass-boy up. Eren called out to the dragon and told him that the supposed delicious maiden he was taking was actually a boy. The dragon was slightly confused, to which Eren stated how he had to keep an eye on Glass-boy at all times in order to fend off all his suitors. The dragon found this a most amusing turn of events. He didn't eat them, saying it would be a shame to kill such amusing creatures. Eren found himself a slave once more, this time to powerful dragons who lived in the heart of a volcano. He and Glass-boy served them and worshipped them, coming to respect and revere their masters, whom they found to be like gods. They fought with the dragons and traveled everywhere they went. But one war they fought ended in Glass-boy's death. Eren was rather shaken at the loss of his friend. The dragon he served told him he was free, for it would only be right. No reason for two good men to die as slaves. Eren wandered from the dragons' home land and eventually found himself in Valentino. It was there he heard of the atrocious things done by Queen Ezerona, the Betrayer of Dragons. Still full of rage and grief, he recklessly attempted to kill her. He was easily subdued, being in no state to shake his captors free. He was exiled, only because no one knew him or why the attempt had been done. He eventually found his brother who just barely recognized him from all those years ago. And that is when Eren was reunited with his old name: Eren Hale. He joined up with Leviathan then and House Tskera to take down the Queen. Having been separated for so long, Eren feels a lot like a stranger to Leviathan. He knows he probably isn't the brother Leviathan wanted, and Leviathan certainly is not what he expected either. He tries to work to get to know him, but continually feels as though he is failing.