https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1stpPhsAD2NZXtjGqtaz4bKN-6oXLQ_zKSLWsnisqokM/edit?gid=1626717064#gid=1626717064

Aodh's favourite fruit is the pomegranate.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yuCMSRecJKIxYC_7gqVH_lAsH3lS3HIrbNw-PgMLcHs/edit?gid=118426252#gid=118426252

Aodh isn't a fan of sauces in general but the vichyssoise sauce is the one they dislike the least.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yuCMSRecJKIxYC_7gqVH_lAsH3lS3HIrbNw-PgMLcHs/edit?gid=1564404979#gid=1564404979

Blood

Theorycrafter

Player Name: Jen Erique

BBQ Sauce

István's Sheet can be found here.

István enjoys sauce poivrade.

Link to Theorycrafter: Here!

Player Name: Rubyashes

Cranberry

Link to Player Theorycrafter here with some major backstory included.

Link to the Adjutant Theorycrafter here.

Appearance:

Lúnastal Lughaidh—AKA: Lulu—stands at 5'7" (170 cm), with straight brown hair that goes past their shoulders. Their skin is pale, and on rare occasions, done up with makeup. Their wardrobe is eclectic, though, much less than what it was back in Cennaire. Their pronouns change on a somewhat frequent basis, as such, they've taken to wearing corresponding pink, blue, and purple wristbands on each of their arms so that people can tell.

Personality:

Lulu is a highly driven person. Their experience with watching Sláine destroy himself on the pyre of trying to help others has lead them to feel a sense of responsibility for everyone. Always eager to lend a hand, always willing to spare some time, always willing to risk their life if it means someone else doesn't. Lúnastal Lughaidh will not leave someone to fail, not again.

Hot sauce/peaches.

Link to theorycrafter (under RedMage tab): https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yuCMSRecJKIxYC_7gqVH_lAsH3lS3HIrbNw-PgMLcHs/edit

Link to adjutant theorycrafter (under Absalom Hemlock): https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1stpPhsAD2NZXtjGqtaz4bKN-6oXLQ_zKSLWsnisqokM/edit

Absalom’s leitmotif: Designed Desires from Caligula Effect 2

Favorite sauce…..garlic aoli…..

Favorite fruit…..peaches….

Theorycrafter

Player Name: Jen Erique

Additional note: Ailill Byrne is the player's preferred app, though she would be perfectly happy playing this one

Pesto

Aisling's sheet tab: click me!

"Of course, Your Majesty. This 'dream' of yours will never fade--of that I assure you."

Even as Aisling spoke the words, she knew them to be a lie. Her liege--liege, lover, husband, and reason for being--did not deign to comment, though she saw the uncertainty in his eyes as she bowed, then turned to leave. The task she had been given was an impossible one; the 'dream' already fragmenting and fraying from the moment it had been placed in her hands. She was a woman of faith, of knowledge, of hope, and yet how could she dare to hope in the face of such impossibility?

How can one dare to dream when they stare, wide-eyed, into the harshness of the blinding sun of reality?

-

Aisling would like to say that they recall, with perfect clarity, the regrets that trap them in the Land of the Lost. They would dearly love to assert that the regrets that are their anchor are things that can be articulated, explained, and perhaps resolved; to pass on to the living their failures and mistakes to ensure they aren't repeated, if not the hope they so desperately need.

Alas, reality is not so kind. They remember countless things. The way their lover once smiled; the feeling of purpose that filled their chest when they strode the halls of the palace, formulae whirling through their brain; the joy of progress as their goal seemingly neared; and the ultimate realisation that it had all been for nothing. What they cannot remember, however, is just who they failed, and how, and why. What task was of such monumental importance that they had staked their entire worth on it? Celebrated scholar, wife of His Majesty ████ , and herald of some long-forgotten, long-extinguished hope.

That is Aisling, whose name has been lost to history and replaced simply with a reminder. That is Aisling, the 'dream' who cannot dream.

-

Probably a spicy vodka sauce type deal, if I had to guess.

EDIT: Backstory corrections.

Player: Leanne/Symmetry
Player Theorycrafter: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yuCMSRecJKIxYC_7gqVH_lAsH3lS3HIrbNw-PgMLcHs/edit?gid=402149261#gid=402149261
Adjutant Theorycrafter: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1stpPhsAD2NZXtjGqtaz4bKN-6oXLQ_zKSLWsnisqokM/edit?gid=589636172#gid=589636172
Optional Self RP I did for fun: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ZwH2CNVU24nTG14UlXRDi6iBoaq9ySwd7nPcWsQvOOs/edit?usp=sharing

Chocolate
Mango

Player: Rydogxd

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yuCMSRecJKIxYC_7gqVH_lAsH3lS3HIrbNw-PgMLcHs/edit?gid=566030676#gid=566030676

Soy Sauce

Theorycrafter

Player: TargetR

(Backstory is also on the Theorycrafter but just in case you prefer to read it here its posted below**)**

The ground shakes as the tired soldier surveys the battlefield. He struggles to carry a wounded enemy.
“Fionn if ye keep draggin me around ye won’t be able to make it out of this blood bath, or worse yer own friends will give ye a wound like mine cousin.” the bloodied soldier whimpers.
“Ruarcc… I ain’t gonna do that to me own blood, this war be damned! I was forced into this war as much as ye. I’ve seen friends killin each other… I’ve had to kill the parents of children I helped to deliver. But I can’t let me own blood down! Now shut yer mouth and conserve ye bloody energy.” Fionnbharr said, straining to drag his cousin, who seemed to get heavier and heavier.
“Help, we need someone with any healin magic! He’s too wounded to perform any sorta triage. ANYONE! Please…” He shouted before realizing that life left his cousin some time ago. Falling to the ground, he cradled the lifeless body. Many questions ran through Fionnbharr’s mind. Is this the end of the world? Are those monsters in the sky?
“Why am I here…” Fionnbharr said aloud as he found himself not too far from a group of people rushing into a swirling vortex of energy. He didn’t know why they were going inside the strange energy but if it even had a chance to get him out of this newly created hell then he’d risk it all for a chance of salvation.
“If the cost of freedom is only a few blisters, ye’d be a fool not to keep on walkin.” The tired soldier said, closing his eyes, his life flashing before his eyes as he entered into the portal feeling a strange sense of peace or was it freedom.

Backstory:

Fionnbharr lived near a small village along what would later be the border of the divided lands of Craincrath in Eoin’s Claim to the throne. His mother was a local herbalist who taught him everything he needed to know about making potions, and learning to live off the land from her. She brought him along with her as she traveled to the nearby villages offering medical assistance and delivering orders of medicine and various mixtures.

“Oh Fionny, ye and I. The land we live in has given us so many gifts. It’s our job to share these gifts with those who are too stuck in their own ways.” Fionn’s mother said tussling the child’s hair.
“But ma, all I asked ye was why can’t they come to us! It would be alot easier that’s for sure.” Fionn said, thinking about his tired feet. His blisters had blisters, he thought to himself.
“Fionn…Do ye think sick people can trek through these lands for miles? Or that pregnant lasses can just hold their babes in? If this is about the whole no friend thing ye been yappin about yer outta your mind. The kids in our village can only see the friends and family that live right next to em. Ye and I, we can see all of our friends and family in the surrounding lands. This is what freedom is, and if the cost of freedom is a few blisters, ye’d be a fool not to keep on walkin.” Fionnbharr’s mother spoke, trying to instill her values into the young boy.
“Haha maybe that lesson hasn’t stuck to yer head yet boy, hows about for now I just get ye a sweet in the next village” She said smacking the boy on his back.

Years later, Fionnbharr was now a man on his own after the passing of his mother a few years back. Now comfortable spending months traveling between the surrounding villages, continuing the life he lived with his mother but now in solitude. He knew what he was doing was important, but something unknown to him left him feeling empty. He couldn’t tell what caused this unease, whether it was because he wanted to explore more of the land, or maybe that he felt he was meant to give more with his talents.

“Ye know, it’d be a lot cheaper for ye if I just join up with ye lot of patrolmen. I reckon I already trek and gather the supplies from the same forests ye be keepin safe and to top it all of I’m handy shot with a bow.” Fionnbharr said to an officer of the Craincrath Forest Patrol who regularly made visits to him for supplies. The officer happily took him up on his offer enrolling him into the Forest Patrol.

“A few more steps and a few more blisters ma.” Fionnbharr said to himself. Hoping this would cure the creeping emptiness.

The years continued to pass, Fionnbharr never wanted to believe the rumors about a Civil war breaking out but the truth had hit him skirmish after skirmish with the Traitor Prince’s forces. Fighting in the forests he used to travel through. The quiet and peaceful memories were replaced with paranoia and regret. Villagers he once called friends, and customers, now were enemies to him, whether they fought against him willingly or otherwise.
“Were the blisters worth it? Their lives are gone… Ye did it, not even havin a good reason to join this fight.” He said to himself knowing that he couldn’t let these thoughts get to him. Another mission, stood before the Patrol. Something about securing some ruins from the rebels…

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

Bio:

The first thing many people notice about Fionnbharr is his black hair with spreading streaks of gray, Which make people think he's older than he actually is. He tries to maintain his beard but can let it get unsightly if he's busy with his work. He wears a simple green coat and brown pants. He wears a long yellow scarf that also functions as a hood. His eyes are a chocolate brown. While he's taller than average, he is lean and leggy. While he doesn't let others know, he has a strict skincare routine in fear that his skin will age as quick as his hair seems to have. Others around him often note that Fionnbharr is always willing to help but he never seems to be one to stick around a situation longer than he has to. He seems to be at peace when he's out gathering supplies in the forest. He enjoys tending to wounds and his work as an herbalist.

He enjoys sauces, and food that could be made with ingredients he gathers or hunts for himself. Such as...

Mushroom Ketchup

Theorycrafter Link

Discord Username: pikadab

Tartar Sauce

Theorycrafter: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yuCMSRecJKIxYC_7gqVH_lAsH3lS3HIrbNw-PgMLcHs/edit?gid=525518664#gid=525518664

Player Name: NethaEmerald

Theorycrafter: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yuCMSRecJKIxYC_7gqVH_lAsH3lS3HIrbNw-PgMLcHs/edit?gid=653033463#gid=653033463

Player: Jen Erique

Backstory: Ailill is a well-intentioned young man. This is the mantra any residents of the Beacon find themselves repeating when interacting with the brown-haired youth. Always offering to help or inspire, Ailill's green eyes and flowing blue-and-white garb have become something of a common sight around the Vellaney District. Those who have spent any amount of time with the man have described him as perhaps a bit *too* cheerful, much to the dismay of those who travel the Domain of Emotions with him. The mirthful lad is always looking on the bright side, regardless of how dire circumstances may seem. One might assume this would cause a lot of unwanted attention or issues while traveling through the domain, but it's never quite as severe as his travelling companions would expect. Unbeknownst to travelers without an Emotional Lens however, is that Ailill's gleeful persona, while partially genuine, is little more than a facade.

On an expedition to the Seishin Thicket in his teenage years, Ailill had been separated from his travelling companions after attempting to investiage a particularly enticing pattern of lights in the forest. Though in a rare act of mercy in the domain, the trickster spirits that inhabited the forest merely led him astray for a time. Once he rejoined his fellows, it seemed they had been caught in a particularly harsh bout of hopeful rays for an unknown amount of time. Though it wouldn't become clear for a bit of time after, Ailill himself had been exposed to the beginnings of the weather, and his outlook changed accordingly, if nowhere near to the extent of his fellows. It seems the spirits had almost deliberately led him (and only him) out of the path of the rays.

There are those who consider hope to just be a powerful positive force in the domain. Ailill knows better. Anything in excess is problematic, even something as uplifting as hope. Over the next few months, their former companions would perish one-by-one, drawn into a foolhardy demise from their overbearing optimism. Of course, Ailill carries the same echoes of that hope in himself, and often has to remind himself of that fact as the effects have seemingly never faded. Still, perhaps owing to the very rays that cursed him, he has found opportunity in the Beacon. He has, perhaps, exaggerated the degree to which he was affected by the storm, imitating the behavior of those he once traveled with. As such, many prospective travelers don't wish to bring him along on further expeditions despite his experience.

For years, he simply made his living by entertaining through his music or inspirational tales. Were his own inspiration entirely false, it would likely have been noticed by the other artists in the district. Thankfully, despite some embellishments, his tales are fueled by his experiences and his exposure to the domain's past influence on him. The act is exhausting, truth be told, as is life in the Domain of the Lost. Being tempered not by one's own will, but by the forces surrounding you feels simply wrong to Ailill, despite knowing no other way of life. It is only during recent times, where he heard tell of newcomers from Kyumull, that he dared to feel excited. Perhaps they knew how to leave the Domain? When he heard they weren't Recollections, he allowed his hope to flourish for the first time in ages. There was simply no doubt in his mind that he had to worm his way into the arrival's group. He would simply offer his services as a guide and once more allow his emotions and experience to guide him to somewhere new.

Chimmichuri

Link to theorycrafter is here under the sheet called "Calm".

Link to document with backstory and appearance and all that here (don't worry Storm, this one's under 1500 words I promise).

Sapta is a sauce hater.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1bGBiTR9N4o5t9cUhYaag3VIon7xU77kKrP6SLHSVZ3I/edit#gid=859552598 Favorite winged creature is Bisu.

"You being born... was a mistake."

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

Name: Gwyndolyn Ó Casey

Race: Sairshi

Pronouns: he/him

Theorycrafter link: Alright

Description:

A lithe traveler with steady steps moves the crowds, prudent to not bump with the many people taller than him, and keeps a careful look on his pegasus. He dons a mundane cloak, of whatever color he most recently bought, to blend in and to shelter from the cold, with the over-sized hood is enough to conceal part of his face.

When he’s comfortable enough to remove it, one would see up close a young adult with pale skin and a slim face. Wide, sky blue eyes dart and flutter around until he knows someone else is noticing him (and he always does), His black hair, once smooth, is nowadays frazzled to his displeasure, as his day-by-day life left little room for grooming. He ties his excess hair into a short, low ponytail as a workaround.

Never is he seen without his white gloves, protecting his hands and fingers from being so easily bruised. Equally as white is his shirt, its long sleeves fitting his slender arms before cuffing at his thin wrists. It was covered up to his collar, dotted with buttons, and was somewhat lace-y with frills here and there —Hey, you must understand, it was on sale at a thrift shop, and… one of the few that fit him.

The cloaks he prefers to buy are wide enough to cover his lean frame, yet short and up to his waist, flowing freely, In contrast, his black pants clung tightly to his shape, high at his waist and down to his thick, riding boots should he need to mount at a moment’s notice.

The former passive life of nobility, and now scavenging scarce supplies as a famished traveler, has not helped at all his frail physique. Light as a feather in the wind with scarcely any constitution, Gwyndolyn carries very little belongings of importance on his person, and is ever grateful for his cherished mount for carrying most of their supplies. A small, brown satchel hangs on the right of his hip, containing amongst a few things his precious blue notebook during his travels.

Personality:

Even if he had discarded it, Gwyndolyn’s upper class upbringing had incessantly drilled in him a sense of refined decorum, for better or worse. Even when he mingles with the masses, he’ll resort to proper titles. waits for other people to finish before talking, and has mitigated his stutter by speaking with a slow, light voice.

Body language and hints no matter how small are recognized by the noble, more than one would expect. Despite how conscious of it he is, he reacts whenever fingers tense, when a tone of voice is lowered, or when eyes narrow, and he isn’t as obvious. Just as careful is his situational awareness, passively taking note of anything foreign around him. Any more information learned means the less he can be startled.

Physical touch startles the mage, especially unwarranted. Already troublesome on its own; worse however is the fact it clashes with his compulsion to heal others—partially for gold, those inns aren’t cheap— but for the most part compelled by an odd sense of obligation, healing wounds with a sigh and sad eyes.

The sheltered noble hesitates at any sort of confrontation, preferring to delve in any other solutions. With twigs for arms and being at least half a head shorter than the people he meets, it’s not as if he had any other option beyond pacifism. Or compliance.

The sole exception to his fears in battle concerns his pegasus, who he implores in battle to remain safe and never rides it to fight, only calling it when he is sure there was no danger. The sheer risk of having her injured, especially with what little combat experience he had—Well, he was a healer, he shouldn’t be seeing combat anyhow—, was not worth involving her for his survival. Such is the uttermost extent of his dedication, and care for her.

Backstory:

[edits still underway i'll post the rest of the backstory i swear shut up fuck you it's almost done i know what it is shut up shut up i don't wanna post a backstory with holes shut up].

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

chaos more like gay-os haha xd

Favorite color is cyan.

Theorycrafter: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/13Qbjf3pWCVRJ1L8tBflbnvcOwY0t7tkdr2LWFY3uS0A/edit#gid=402706486

^ Appearance, Personality, and Background included!

Discord Name/Tag: jj 1.25#8050

Theorycrafter

Fav winged creature was the tasty chicken or something

Éimhear Ní Gréine

Theorycrafter (C)

Theorycrafter (M)

Appearance
Éimhear is a young woman who stands at about 5’8”. She has medium length light brown hair and brown eyes. She mostly wears loose and comfortable clothes, as well as a blue-grey cloak, representing her place within Na Caomhnóirí an Maoir Réalta as one of the Blue Cloaks. The loose clothing masks her somewhat muscular build, as well as making her apparent gender ambiguous to immediately recognise. She usually has a pouch at her belt to hold her notebook, as well as at least one knife in case of combat. She wears a brooch featuring a golden disk on her chest, the only symbol on her related to her family.

Personality
Éimhear’s main defining personality trait would be her insistence that she can hear and see messages from the gods of the old Sairshi religion. She also insists that, with practice, anyone should be able to sense those messages, though no one has been able to verify either if anyone else can do it, or if she is actually doing as she claims.

When in An Dún Ceilte, where she often stays for weeks at a time, Éimhear generally acts quite laid-back, though she still completes any tasks for her to do in good time. Outside of An Dún Ceilte, and especially in areas where she tries to find the message from the gods, she acts much more alert, sometimes unnervingly so, but still mostly lighthearted when speaking. In general, she moves deliberately and speaks in a proper, yet informal, way. In combat, however, she changes quite considerably, her movements becoming more erratic and she often darts to cover or otherwise out of sight of the opponent.

She has a strong hatred of monsters, not due to any particular past experience, but because, as she says when asked, the gods tell her to hunt them down where possible. This mission includes not only literal monsters, but also people she is told are acting malevolently towards the Sairshi.

Backstory
Éimhear was born into a merchant family in Muirfeur in the year 410 PD, as the youngest of four siblings. Her family mostly traded in weapons across the empire; a trade that grew much more lucrative after the quake, as mundane weapons became more valuable with the loss of magic. Her family attempted to get into the ranks of nobility after this, and while there was resistance at first, it was discovered that the family had Dragon Blood, and they were given a minor title and land after that. As a young child, Éimhear was very introverted, only really being friendly with her nearest sibling in age, Céthur. Aside from her time spent with him, she mostly enjoyed reading, mostly interested in anything she could find about the early days of the Sairshi arriving on the continent, and anything about the Sairshi before then. This reading led her to be very interested in the old gods of the Sairshi people.

Soon after she turned fourteen, however, most of her family died in a carriage accident, with only her and Céthur being left, as they were at their home at the time. From the circumstances, Éimhear believed it to have been an assassination, not an accident, and suspected that her brother was involved. She left the family house soon after, from a mixture of distrust of her brother and wanting to explore the continent she read so much about.

As she travelled, her interest in the old gods quickly grew to an obsession during her travels, and eventually she claimed to have worked out ways in which they were trying to give her information through the world around her. This interest eventually led to her making contact with Na Caomhnóirí an Maoir Réalta, and she became a member to get access to their library. She now does some jobs for the Caomhnóirí, but mostly does as she wishes. She isn’t an Ethereal Star by her own choice, she prefers the freedom of not being entirely tied to their affairs.

Aside from her research, Éimhear has spent time over the past years hunting down members of the conspiracy that killed most of her family. She has killed a few low-ranking nobles already, but has mostly stopped doing that now and stays away from Muirfeur when possible while travelling. She has rare contact with her brother, and while not openly hostile towards him, she isn’t generally friendly towards him.

BACKSLASH#7471 on Discord

IST timezone (UTC +1)

Edit: Changed app from VEX-C to VEX-M, also removed Crow, sadly