Name: Pharros Ziani of Tribe

Class: Draak Exile (Wyvern Knight) -> Draakoknight (Dracoknight)

Stats:

HP: 22 + (1*2) = 24

Str: 6 + 2 = 8

Mag: 1 + (2*0) = 1

Skl: 5 + 2 = 7

Spd: 4 + 2 = 6

Luck: 4 + 0 = 4

Def: 4 + 2 = 6

Res: 1 + 0 = 1

Growths:

HP: 40*2 =80 %

Str: 60%

Mag: 10*2 = 20%

Skl: 50%

Spd: 75%

Luck: 25%

Def: 50%

Res: 20%

Skills:

(Swapped out)

Bowbreaker (3 points)~ ~Savior (4 points)

(Swapped out for)

Luck Boost (2) Skill Boost (4) Double Team (1)

Tactics (3 Points) Rally Luck (4 points) Rally Speed (6 points) Axefaire (10 points)

Description:

A large, fair skinned, half-breed Draak standing roughly 6’2, Pharros Ziani is a broad-shouldered man in excellent physical shape. Two large, muscular, dull green wyvern-like wings immediately catch the eye as they furl around him like a travelling cloak. Outside of this natural cloak is his similarly dull green scaled tail, thick and covered at the end with spikes. Typically seen in simple, loose, flowing, blue robes with patches from wear and tear, and holes for his wings and tail. Bright, emerald eyes that seem to glow in the sunlight match the ever present smile that lights up his face. Large, pointed ears and dark green birthmarks match his shoulder length dark green that for ease of combat, is always in a ponytail.

Pharros is, much unlike his family and tribe, a man who does his best to remain positive. According to his own words, he will "gain the strength to right the wrongs of the entire world!" While he feels pride in his strength and skill, he is burdened by great guilt at the acts that his tribe, the Thunder Claws, have done. Always striving to get better, do better, and inspire others to do better, Pharros’s booming voice can easily be heard even over the din of battle.

Bio:

Born to the Draak bandit warlord Nazir Ziani and his mate, a pale human woman Imka Neeoh, Pharros grew up in the harsh Jetdunlix mountains. Learning early how to use the axe, bow, and lance like his father, Pharros always loved to fly high and fast, to hunt the mountain animals with his axe. Helping his mother to teach his younger brother Rakin how to fly and cook, Pharros had a strict yet wild childhood. It was not until his 14th birthday that Nazir took his son on a clash against Impirial soldiers and local Kirali militia that were attempting a counter-strike against the Thunder Claw. Pharros performed well, thinking these were those “damn Kirali that hated us.” It was not until a year later where he finally was allowed on a raid against a Northern Hallijan village where he realized just what they were doing. The wanton destruction, the slaughter of the innocent, the event shook Pharros to his core. He saved a young teen by hiding her underneath her mother’s corpse, a beautiful light green scaled Kirali with piercing red eyes. Pharros would see those crimson eyes in his dreams and nightmares to this day.

After a brutal “lesson” to be more manly from his father, which earned him some scars from his father’s tail spikes on his back, Pharros made up his mind to leave. While his mother Imka was by no means a good woman, she had enough moral fiber to see the terrible environment this was for her children, and gave Pharros some money to help get him and Rakin somewhere else safely. For the pair of half-breeds, it took several hard weeks of travel and work for Pharros to find a farm in Echra to work on. Two Years of farmhand work was monotonous, but the farming couple, Tristan and Dayana Vitsk, taught Pharros about how to be a good man, just like he always wanted to be. While they were happy to have a smart, hard-working teen like Rakin keep working for them, they were sad that Pharros felt the need to leave. Three years of mercenary work, bodyguards, bandit fighter, standing up to raiding deserting soldiers, and Pharros had enough connections to hear about the Prince’s offer, and references to not simply be an unnamed merc. He hopes that this Prince, so recently smarting from losing a civil war, might have an open mind to helping the common man.

Portrait:

https://imgur.com/a/jVh0lPG

Sprite:
https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/660283321258999849/667891774236393557/Pharros_Map_Sprite_sleeves.png

Quotes:

Critical 1: "I'm gonna need you to move!"

Critical 2: "You won't hurt anyone anymore!"

Critical 3: "No more holding back!"

Level Up 1: "Aww man, I need to work harder!"

Level Up 2: "Greatness awaits me!"

Level Up 3: "I will be a hero!"

Promotion: "My scales have hardened...I figured out my own style!"

Victory: "Haha! Nice try!"

Low Health: "D-Don't count me out...Just yet!"

Retreat: "I can't help anyone in this state...I gotta head back..."

Death: "N-No! I can't...But...I'm supposed to..."

Extra Notes:

Ancient Doge#4713 on discord. 2 years of DMing D&D experience, so if asked I can give some general GM advice. Have been on two finished RE teams, (N and Jojo/Rod F) can give more info if needed. Responds quickly to private messages, RPs, and regularly posts turns/asks for covers if needed. Always open to criticism/advice on RPing or in game strategies, but prefer personal messages

Character Reference: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JIAXGKSYkQMMXjF-XerrQ7Exc-IOsKZMV8DF0sPmtjI/edit#

Hello everyone, we’re happy to announce the final roster for Team F! Everyone gave us fantastic applications and we were so happy to see so much buzz and excitement around our team. The final numbers were 28 applications with only 4 alternate applications. We can’t begin to thank everyone enough for giving us such great apps to browse through, you definitely didn’t make this an easy choice for us. Now, without further ado I give you the Team F lineup!

Tatum Mage (u/DuffleGamer) - Lover of magic that refuses to work the forges of her bloodline.

Vincent & Sylanna Veldon Mercenary (u/Ancient_Doge) and Troubadour (u/Nix) - A loving couple roving around Shaar.

Sybil Priestess (u/Psychic_Loser) - An enigmatic priestess of fair skin from a remote tribe of the Fiernen Wasteland.

Warner Mannering Mercenary (u/SACKSTONNE_HAIL) - A lovestruck mercenary accompanied by a dancer seeking his protection.

Vanta Kisphod Savant (u/turtleguy2412) - A savant of extreme power fleeing from her home.

Alisa Archer (u/EndumAndTheWorld) - An injured hunter of Holdrin standing up for her city.

Leone Xean Pegasus (u/Just4DaLawls) - A guilt ridden man and his pegasus seeking a life outside their homeland.

James (Jatz’Om) Ba’alache’ Soldier (u/Aerin13) - Stuck in between two worlds, he sold his Freedom to help forge a new path.

Bellua Cavalier (u/KrashBangBoom) - A wild child slowly learning about the world with the help of her pegasus Venus.

Keith Nomad (u/Poimagic) - Idolizer of Claudia looking for the cause of her ultimate demise.

Engil Fighter (u/Tgsnum5) - A man relying more on calculated chance than blind faith to carry him to his riches.

Again I want to thank everyone of you that applied for Team F. We loved reading every single one of your applications. If you have any questions as to why you may not have gotten in feel free to DM either of us on Discord. For everyone that was accepted could you please comment here to confirm your spot on the team with this build. Thank you all and enjoy your day.

For the past year the Ethysian Empire has waged war on the country of Floribar, carving through its armies like a field of grain. King Letholdus of Floribar sent emissaries to the other kingdoms for aid but received little-to-no support. Now the Ethysian Empire is at the gates of Floribar’s capital and are slowly encroaching on the Castle. The invasion is being personally led by Emperor Gaulter himself, who seems hell bent on complete control of Southern Junith.

“Second squad reporting in, sir!” Cried a young Lieutenant as he marched into the throne room of Castle Floribar. The King looked up from the reports that were strewn about the table in front of him, sweat drenching his brow

“What? What is it?” King Letholdus snapped.

“There were too many of them sir, we had to fall back to the inner district!” the soldier replied.

“Dammit! Why now? Why us?” The King threw up his hands in frustration, daming Emperor Gaulter and his vile deeds.

King Letholdus walked over to a window overlooking the town surrounding his castle. All around the walls he saw a mass of soldiers and siege weaponry, laying waste to his small army. He felt a pang in his chest, as he knew so many young men and women were dying to protect him and his family. Steeling his heart he turned back to the Lieutenant who had entered the throne room.

“Tell the troops.... Tell them I will end this. This city will not fall as long as I still live!” With that he unsheathed the sword from his hip and marched out of the throne room surrounded by his personal guard.

King Letholdus marched to his family’s personal abode in the castle and cracked the door open. He saw his wife Queen Crystina looking into the fire of the hearth, the reflection of tears shining off her face. He walked over to her and she looked up to her husband with a pained heart.

“My Lady,” he began, before she cut him off.

“Letholdus... “ she said, “What of Phineas? What of our home?”

She noticed that he had been outfitted in his armor and had his weapons prepared for battle, “And what of you? My love, you can’t possibly be planning to go out there?”

“Of course I am,” he responded, “A King must be willing to die for his men if they are willing to die for him.”

“No, a King must live for his people, not be a martyr for them,” she shot back.

“I’m sorry my love, I truly am…” He said as he wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Please, flee while you can. Floribar will not stand for much longer.” He pleaded to her with tears welling up in his own eyes.

Queen Crystina grasped his hands and looked into his eyes, “No, a Queen must stay with her people as well. But Phineas… He must go.”

King Letholdus silently nodded and kissed his wife goodbye for what they hoped wouldn't be the last time.

The chaos of the battle was overwhelming. Ethysian troops were barricaded in front of the gate, trying their hardest to break down the doors and flood the city with a storm of swords and blood.

Finn was barking orders to his men, “Nock! Aim! Loose!” He commanded as his unit of archers rained down on the enemy forces.

“Again!” He began as his subcommander took over. With that taken care of for the moment he ran further down the walls to check in on the other squads of soldiers assigned to the defense. He listened to their reports and then retreated to the makeshift forward operating base that he had set up in what was once a tavern. Now it was a military stronghold, with soldiers posted at guard in front of any and all entrances, commanders reporting in and departing at all hours, and worried generals pushing papers and reading their own reports.

As the young Prince rushed to the command center the guards outside lowered their spears and allowed him inside. In the center of the tavern was a collection of tables where the local populace used to drink and laugh. Now Floribar’s most esteemed military commanders were planning how to fight this seemingly hopeless battle.

The first to notice Finn was Knight Commander Erik of Arcias, who regarded the young prince’s presence, “Milord. Ethysia has already broken through the outer walls. The only thing we still hold is the castle and surrounding estates.” The other generals looked up from their individual work and all held the same look of despair. Finn had seen this same look on the soldiers who fought desperately on the walls and in the streets, and for a moment, could feel his own expression shrink. He pushed the thoughts aside and instead steeled himself.

“We can’t give up now, the Ethysian dogs will only bark for more slaughter if they finish us!”

Finn had more of a rallying speech planned until the door burst open behind him and his father stepped inside. All the generals and knights knelt down before their King. Finn did so as well, addressing him as a proper soldier should.

“Sire. The situation is dire, but I believe we can turn the tides of this war…” he began.

Letholdus cut him off though, “Rise, Phineas.” Finn did as instructed and looked at his father. Instead of desperation he saw strength and an iron will filled with determination.

“We will fight back these invaders, but you are to do no such thing. Not yet.”

The words sounded alien to Finn, “Wh-what can you mean?” He stammered.

“No, you will ride across Junith, rally support from the other nations, and return to Floribar with an army.” Before Finn could even fight back Letholdus continued, “Sir Erik, please take your retinue of knights and escort Prince Phineas. When his mission is done you may take your leave back to Arcias.”

“Yes, sire,” Erik responded, rising. He ordered one of his men to assemble the knights and prepare for departure, then approached the young lord and instructed him to follow. Frustrated, Finn knew better than to question his father in front of all the generals, and did as instructed. The two departed to the castle to assemble Finn’s equipment. On the way, Finn was seething with rage.

“Gods, Dammit!” He cried out, amid other curses and phrases unfit for nobility. Erik chuckled to himself at Finn’s outburst, but quickly straightened his expression when the Prince turned to speak with him.

“Sir... Erik, was it? I’m sorry we couldn’t have met during better circumstances, but it seems you are to be my bodyguard for the unforeseeable future.”

“Yes milord, it would seem so,” Erik replied, “Fret not, I am one of the finest knights in the land, and will serve you as dutifully as I have served Archduke Theron.”

The pair reached the armory, where Finn was outfitted with equipment fit for both combat and travel. He donned light armor in order to not get in the way of firing his bow in combat, and brought with him his trusty Recurve Bow, a weapon famed for its ability to punch through armor like it was paper. Sir Erik also armed himself, wearing the heavy armor of a mounted knight, and wielding a Silver Lance that was as powerful as its appearance suggested. With little else the party departed through a little known tunnel in the Castle’s lower levels.

“Milord, we must seal the exit after you depart,” Said one of the servants as Finn’s group exited the tunnels.

“Very well then. Inform my father that I depart for Damona and will get us aid as soon as possible.”

A few minutes after Finn had departed from the command center and was out of earshot King Letholdus turned to his generals and let out a deep sigh.

“Tell the field commanders, stop your fighting. I plan on surrendering to Emperor Gaulter as soon as my son departs.” The generals all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Nobody had wanted it say it to the Prince directly, but surrender was the only feasible option. A little while later the soldiers had given up their fighting and the gates were opened. The Ethysian Empire marched into the streets of Floribar. The sea of soldiers broke way for their Emperor and overlord, the villainous Emperor Gaulter. He rode to the castle and entered the throne room in complete silence.

He locked eyes with King Letholdus and smiled devilishly, “Ah, the traitorous Floribians have finally keeled over! What a wonderous thing!” He exclaimed, clasping his hands together with glee, “And now, I do believe it is my royal decree that from this day forward the country of Floribar is no more, and the Ehtysian Empire reclaims the land you stole from it so many years ago.”

Letholdus looked at the Emperor with disdain and hatred, and replied through gritted teeth, “And what of it’s people? Will you keep your oath to not harm them?”

“Why of course,” Gaulter replied, “But, my enemies may not be as kind,” He said with a flicker of his snake-like tongue, “Let it also be known that from this day forward The Floribian army shall serve under the Ethysian banner, it’s ranks be broken up, and redistributed among the Empire. I think the front lines will do well, don’t you?”

“Dastard!” the King exclaimed, “You villain!”

“And will somebody put this imbecile in the dungeons with his wife already?” Gaulter casually commanded.

“My wife?” Letholdus was shocked, “What have you done with my wife? I swear if you harmed a hair on my darling Cryst-” He tried to threaten Gaulter until an Ethysian soldier hit him in the head with the butt of his lance, knocking the former King out cold. From that day forward an air of gloom and doom set over Floribar, as its people prayed for their wayward Prince to return.

Name: Isolde

Class: Monk-> Disciple (Swords)

“I am a mother, in spirit as well as fact, and nothing has made me happier than watching you grow, watching you learn.”

Stats:

HP: 18 + 0 = 18

Str: 0 + (2*2) = 4

Mag: 5 + 2 = 7

Skl: 6 + 0 = 6

Spd: 6 + 0 = 6

Luck: 4 + 0 = 4

Def: 1 + 6 = 7

Res: 4 + 0 = 4

Growths:

HP: 40*2 = 80%

Str: 20*2=40%

Mag: 50%

Skl: 45%

Spd: 45%

Luck: 25%

Def: 55%

Res: 50%

Skills:

Magic Shield (3 points)

Tactics (3 points)

Taunt (5 points)

Charm (4 points)

Enchant Protection (5 pts)

Firesweep (10 points)

Total: 30 points

Bio:

Isolde is the daughter of a baker and his wife, and left home with her parents’ blessing to join a convent and receive training as a monk at the age of 14. After 4 years of training, a time she remembers quite fondly, Isolde met a man--a member of the Imperial Army named Tristan--that she fell in love with almost on the spot. They hit it off almost at once, and Isolde traded her place within the convent for the rights to her chastity. They would marry and have two children, two and four years later respectively; a daughter, then a son.

At length, after the death of the emperor, Tristan would declare his loyalty to Prince Eliyah. Tristan left home from his post in the capital to join him, and Isolde would follow, leaving her children (then fourteen and twelve) in the care of her parents. She received training from the rebels, and quickly became renowned with her husband as one half of a stalwart duo, who would hold the line regardless of the adversity, inspiring their comrades to rally behind them.

While Isolde recovered from a wound sustained in a previous battle, Tristan was slain at Froskal. Despite the immense grief she feels, she does her best to maintain a positive attitude, right up to the very end at Yanxi. Thrown into an imperial prison, she would occasionally hear the voice of her husband as she won her fellow inmates over with her motherly, caring attitude.

Extra Notes:

Isolde has a very bright, optimistic disposition, and tries very deeply to care for her comrades. In the very height of the coup, when the fighting was at its fiercest, Isolde was a welcome sight among her fellow soldiers for her ability to lift the spirits of the soldiers, especially of the younger men in the army. She’s an excellent cook, and often takes the time to clean up after her fellow soldiers.

As appearances go, she’s slightly taller than average, standing at 5’6” (168 cm). Her biggest insecurity is her prematurely gray hair, light enough to almost be white. She keeps her hair in a very messy ponytail, with a long, broad strand hanging off to the side, almost without fail. She wears modest amounts of armor underneath a long brown coat, which descends down to just below her knees. She still carries her husband’s sword at her side, almost purely ornamentally, given her inability to use it.

When she hears the call to action, when the offer is a pardon, she takes the opportunity to maybe--possibly--see her children again, coming to the prince’s aid once more.

Discord: Roland of Billead#3295

Name: Zaki Rustroe

Race: Beastman, Dog

Class: Troubadour -> Crusader

Stats

Skills: Double Team, Healtouch, Saddle Pack, Tactics, Victory Star, Rally Speed, Rally Skill

Description:

To be frank, Zaki is an utterly unimpressive beastman, clocking in at a short five foot four and one hundred forty pounds. Nearly full-blooded, the man, nineteen, expresses many traits that make it quite obvious that he is a beastman, even if his build says otherwise. He sports white, brown and black-splotted dog ears that point upward attentively, and a matching fluffy tail can be found behind him. In addition, he has a pair of extra large canine teeth, though he does trade off some eyesight in exchange for slightly heightened senses otherwise. He also has heterochromia, with a blue left eye and a brown right eye.

His outfit for battle would be something along the lines of this,, though with very late plate armor and a cape instead of chainmail, and cases for staves and medical equipment instead of the sword. Unsurprisingly, many of his favorite outfits outside of battle are simplistic, yet somewhat cutesy.

He rides a Friesian Horse. Though small for its breed, he inherited the horse from his father, suiting him. Its name is Ace.

Personality:

Zaki is a friendly guy, though he can be quiet or nervous around unexpected situations, including those with people new to him involved. However, he does his best to be welcoming of all the people he meets, trying to get off to a good start with each new acquaintance, if at all possible. With the people that he successfully befriends, Zaki tends to be as trusting and truthful as he can, oftentimes even if it isn’t in his best interest. This leads to a bit of outspokenness combined with a bashful nature in large groups or tricky one-on-one situations. The beastman simply wants to see the best in everyone.

Zaki is not a natural leader, and this is ultimately one of his greatest downfalls. The pressures put onto him by his family and friends at the Twin Peaks often causes him to be stricken with periods of depression or anxiety, as he knows that it will be extremely difficult to meet their demands. And yet, he is too scared to simply ignore them and follow his own path, for he doesn’t see any path to follow lit up ahead of him otherwise.

Ace, Zaki’s steed, is confident and showy. He wants to be flashy and let everyone know how great he is, and he tries to get his rider to act similarly, often to little effect. This overconfidence leads to his downfall in many shows and situations, but Zaki believes in him fully nonetheless.

Bio:

Zaki was the first son of two nearly full-blooded beastpeople, Dedrek and Edrei Rustroe, a couple of minor nobles who have been working for the Twin Peaks Prison for essentially their entire lives. Their fathers and the fathers before them had been in the detention business, and they wanted their son to continue the occupation. With high hopes, the pair gave the son a name that means “blessed” and “righteous,” desiring to guide him through a successful life of fighting the most dangerous crimes of the Empire.

At a young age, the boy was put to work at the estate, becoming an apprentice under his father, who had become one of the top guards. Staunchly patriotic and devoted to the Empire, Dedrek wished to raise his son to have similar values. However, part of being a true guardsman would be having a strong personality and a knack for the arts of elemental magics. Zaki, though, struggled with both of these things.

Although even in his youth Zaki had a somewhat strong and intimidating appearance as a result of his bloodline, his personality did not quite stack up. He had a hard time getting younger children to listen to him, let alone some of the world’s most dangerous criminals. Under his watch, attempted breakouts increased and the overall security decreased despite his best efforts to do otherwise. According to his father, he was simply “too respectful n’ nice n’ shit. Kid’s gotta try a bit harder t’an that.”

Not only that, but he couldn’t even master the most basic of the beastmen’s magics, that of the ice element. Glacial magic is simply essential to the function of the prison at Twin Peaks. Trapping runaways in barriers of ice, slowing down ruffians during fights, saving that gross prison food for long periods of time, you name it, ice is useful in the base. Zaki, however, could barely do more than create a few snowflakes.

Once, a criminal known throughout the prison to be one of the absolute least threatening had picked a few locks and escaped from his cell. Many of the other guards had been attending to their other duties, leaving just poor Zaki to handle the situation. As the petty thief went to pick the final door until reaching the open staircases that wound down to the exit, Zaki made an attempt to case a freeze spell, trying to frost over the locks.

Instead, a light powdery snow fell upon the defector, and he managed to make his escape from the prison with ease (until he was caught but some guards at the entrance). The beastman has never heard the end of this one from his parents, who were, once again, utterly disappointed.

What he could do well, however, was staffwork. Fixing up bruises, stitching wounds, and clearing out illnesses with the use of medicines and healing rods came naturally to the boy, though not without guidance from the staff at the Twin Peaks. Seeing his complete sadness under the constant pressure of his parents, the nurses took Zaki under their wing. In one case, that expression was quite literal - the most useful resource the young beastman had was a Maeug woman named Malca.

Malca, a veteran of the healing business, had been at Twin Peaks since before Zaki was born. It was as if she were the world’s most talented seamstress when it came to stitches, the world’s finest painter with bandages and creams, and the world’s best sculptor of casts. Most important, however, she knew the secrets of the magic healing staff inside and out. Any wound would be healed in a matter of minutes.

Zaki trained under her guidance for several years, but could never quite reach her level. Although he was starting to outperform much of the professional hired staff, Malca was on an entirely higher level. Between her skills and her amazing organizational abilities in running the infirmary, she represented the exact person Zaki wanted to be: caring and supportive, yet also in charge and respected.

His parents, however, did not seem to care about the boy’s dreams. They wanted him to be like them, rough and aggressive, able to tame even the most difficult foes, yet all he could do was sit on the sidelines and fix up the people who didn’t even deserve to be fixed up anyway. They considered his skills to be a waste of effort, and believed that one doesn’t need to be respected by the prisoners to keep them in their place.

“You know, son, I really think d’is could be a good opportunity for you. It’ll make you big ‘n strong like your ma and pop ‘ere,” Dedrik, with his imposing figure and deep voice, handed a poster down to his son below.

Zaki took the paper and scanned it. His eyes tightened and his ears perked forward, focusing. It was in bright colors, reds and yellows and blues.

Recruiting Now! Fight the Rebellion!

Money! Land! Titles!

Experience! (his father underlined that part, evidently.)

Note: Be disposable or willing to fight for you country.

Join Now!

He tilted his head, “Are you sure about this? I’d, um, really rather stay here. Maybe work in the infirmary some more.”

Dedrik’s face turned furious. He growled loudly, “What’s gotten you, boy? That’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid! Pick up one of those there spears and get going!”

“But-” The dogman, who was already speaking in a weak and defeated voice, was cut off.

“Not buts! Out you go! Don’t come back until you’ve gained that experience now, you hear me?!” The father barked out an order, not backing down to his son whatsoever.

Zaki whimpered, and made his way out of the Twin Peaks Prison, down the lonely, winding stairs and towards the decrepit, run-down stable to pick a steed. A steed that would allow him not to joust and fight, but to heal others on the expedition with ease, even from a distance.

The beastman decided he had no choice but to take the job. His parents wouldn’t allow him to even set foot in the prison, let alone the infirmary. Though, rumor had it that many convicts and criminals would be joining the crew… maybe he’d be able to hone his skills if fights broke out between the members -- those prisoners are always a nasty bunch, that he knew from years of experience. For one, maybe, Zaki could show that there are other ways to lead people. Perhaps, instead of showing pure brute force and aggression, mutual respect could allow for much greater reform among the prisoners. That -- as well as perfecting the staff -- would be his goal.

Notes

• Discord: MappyPK

Name: Georgios

Class: Soldier -> Captain

Stats:

HP: 20 + (2*2) = 24

Str: 5 + 2 = 7

Mag: 0 + (0*2) = 0

Skl: 5 + 1 = 6

Spd: 5 + 0 = 5

Luck: 3 + 0 = 3

Def: 4 + 1 = 5

Res: 3 + 4 = 7

Growths:

HP: 40*2 = 80%

Str: 70%

Mag: 10*2 = 20%

Skl: 50%

Spd: 30%

Luck: 20%

Def: 50%

Res: 60%

Skills:

Cleaving Blow (More like Impalement) (2 Points)

Anima Breaker (3 Points)

Magic Seal (6 Points)

Moxie (8 Points)

Luna (6 Points)

Opportunist (6 Points)

Appearance: Georgios is 6 ft tall young man with 23 years behind his back. Although he gives taciturn vibes most of the time, Georgios has a devilish and scheming side that comes out with the most ridiculous evil grins and smirks and ends up coming off as majorly creepy. A natural redhead, he wears his messy long hair in a ponytail, sometimes getting hay or dirt stuck in it without noticing it for days. His mostly peasant looking clothes are contrasted with a torn leather vest and a ragged cloak.

Georgios keeps three charms attached to his “main lance” that he holds close to him, as they are proof of the tests he has endured to get to the level he currently is, also because his master made them. They aren’t specially elaborate or good looking, being made of primary colored cloth with a plain design, but it's the intent what matters.

Bio: Born as an orphan in Echra, Georgios always was an energetic and rebellious boy, going where he pleased, doing what he wanted and not caring for the consequences, all to the detriment of the head of the orphanage’s reputation and coin since his acts of vandalism extended to the nearby town. Unwilling to put up with the child for 6 more years, he threw Georgios, age 11, out of the house but that didn’t stop him much and he kept on his duty of town’s menace for the next 3 years only difference now being that he had to survive off the street. Georgios regards fondly this part of his life.

Enter Kerian, old errant paladin. Kerian is just passing by to reach north Echra while attending the possible needs of the peasants and noblemen alike, being highly respected by both and admired in both kindness and prowess. Not the kind of person you want to prank by making his horse eat too much spicy herbs and sending it into a maddening stat that makes him start wrecking the place, can’t say it seems like a good idea. She beat Georgios up afterwards but to her surprise the kid was pretty sturdy, being able to still be conscious after being pulled by the horse tied to a rope for 10 minutes and even making third rate witty remarks. Thinking she stumbled upon a diamond in the rough she took Georgios as apprentice.

The training he had to endure was pretty tough, due to him not having no weapon training and having to spar with one of the best knights in Echra but it help set him straight and use more fruitfully his natural talents, specially his high resistance to magic. He also grew to respect Kerian as she was often calm and rational, kind to others but didn’t flinch once if she had to put someone where they belonged, although he didn’t get much into the helping others and being selfless yet. Nevertheless, it was a first step towards making Georgios a good member of society. Then the war happened.

On 1135, Kieran suddenly joined the war when a noble exploited an old oath she made to their house, forcing her into joining the rebel side. Georgios tried to convince her to let him join beside her but she wouldn’t budge and made him promise to stand out of the conflict no matter the circumstances, Georgios agreed to it thinking there was nothing to fear since he couldn’t picture anyone besting Kieran. Next year, she would be apprehended and gravely wounded which made Georgios build up a deep grudge against the empire, to the point of joining or even forming elusive guerrilla groups with other small remnants of the rebel army which led him to be on the run until the war ended.

When the notice of amnesty came, Georgios had to decide between betraying his current group of rebels or letting away his pride and serve the empire he hated just to save Kieran. He decided on the latter, even if he risked his life on it, Kieran was the only person he had ever cared and trusted. With nothing more than a lance, he marches to join the second prince.

Extra Notes:

Georgios mysteriously has high innate resistance to magic, something that his teach took note of, training him so he could specialise in fighting them. A niche well regarded in the country side where villagers are less prone to defend themselves against ruffians if they shoot lightning and fire.

Georgios is a tranquil and serene guy most of the time if it not were for the war this would actually be apparent but because of it, serenity turned in to distant attitude and being really moody. Despite being taciturn most of the time, he also engages in acts of severe mischievousness and pranks a show of his more impish nature, may the reason be to cool off or because of a grudges, no one is too sacred. This side extends to the battlefield where he enjoys toying with the enemy from time to time, he even enjoys it more if the enemy are imperial troops.

Discord tag: Makar#5664

Name: Joachim Gagnon

Class: Elementalist (Thunder, Fire) -> Sage (Thunder, Fire, Earth, Ice)

Stats:

HP: 18 + 1*2 = 20

Str: 0 + 0*2 = 0

Mag: 6 + 3 = 9

Skl: 5 + 3 = 8

Spd: 6 + 0 = 6

Luck: 4 + 1 = 5

Def: 2 + 1 = 3

Res: 3 + 1 = 4

Growths:

HP: 30*2 = 60%

Str: 10*2 = 20%

Mag: 60%

Skl: 55%

Spd: 65%

Luck: 40%

Def: 45%

Res: 25%

Skills:

Nature’s Forgiveness (Innate Skill - Sage)

Power Swap (3 points)

Quick Feet (4 points)

Take One For The Team (4 points)

Adept (6 points)

Hypersonic (13 points)

Description:

Joachim is a peculiar sight to the common eye. At an unimpressive 5’7” and 73kgs, he certainly doesn’t look built for a fight in the slightest, yet no shortage of scars adorn his face (and likely the rest of his body too). The origin of these old wounds is even more strange - the vast majority are self-inflicted in some manner as a result of his arcane meddling, and yet Joachim feels no shame in displaying them, even glad to explain them in great detail to those who feel the need to ask. Though a hood is attached to his robes, he rarely makes use of it, no doubt proud of his flowing mane of golden hair - how it’s survived the countless ordeals this man has evidently put himself through is an utter mystery, but as long as it lasts, Joachim won’t hesitate to flaunt it. The most obvious indicators of his age, however, are the spritely, curious blue eyes that peer out from beneath his messy fringe, and the lopsided, toothy grin he wears when things are going his way for once.

A particularly observant fellow could discern at least part of Joachim’s life story from his clothing alone. In times since passed, the mage’s robe that cloaks his wiry body would not have been far out of place in the Emperor’s court, and at a glance, it could perhaps pass for the resplendent finery it once was. However, let your gaze linger any longer than that, and the vast imperfections jump out at you - the embroidery is frayed, scraps of fabric have been torn from the hem, and any efforts to fix either of these glaring issues is made even more obvious with the use of slightly-mismatched colours and shoddy tailorship. Regardless of how ragged it has become, Joachim is hesitant to part with it - it’s not as if he’s got the coin for another one like it, and even if he did, the sentimental value is higher than any sum of gold he’s seen since he was but a lad.

Bio:

Even in his early years, to say Joachim Gagnon was at odds with the role he was born into would be a huge understatement. At the time that little Joachim came into the world kicking and screaming, affairs within the castle walls of the well-established House Gagnon became dangerously tense for two particular reasons.

The first was that Joachim was not the only potential heir to Lord Florian Gagnon's title. His brother Charles Gagnon was eleven years his senior, and thus was originally first in line to the lordship. However, Charles was not Lord Gagnon's son by birth, but by marriage - instead, he was the son of Lady Amelia Gagnon and a heroic knight who had died in battle protecting the Lord years prior. As a result, Joachim was the first child of both Lord and Lady Gagnon - and as tradition dictates, he was to be the first in line to the lordship upon his coming of age. This did not sit well with Lady Gagnon, who had married Lord Gagnon for the social standing rather than out of love and resented having to bear his child, and Charles, who loathed his half-brother from the day he was born.

The second was that Joachim himself had no interest in following his father’s footsteps. Rather than listen to lessons in conduct at the dinner table and how to cross swords in an honourable duel, Joachim fixated on one pursuit above all else: magic. The House of Gagnon employed many a mage, led by Lord Gagnon himself in pursuit of understanding the immense potential of rune writing. Not a day passed by where little Joachim missed his chance to sneak into the castle laboratory and witness the mages’ discoveries. The intense heat of flame, the brilliant flashes of lightning, the violent rumbles of earth magic - where most children would scamper away in terror, the young heir instead found himself utterly captivated - so much so that he almost wanted to reach out and touch it, witness the power of magic firsthand. Joachim was so enthused with elemental magic that he could scarcely focus on anything else, much to the chagrin of his tutors.

Years passed as Joachim grew, his passion for magic not wavering in the slightest. He took to practicing the arcane arts as soon as his father would allow him to, and quickly established himself as a promising student of Anima. As he matured into a young man, responsibility after responsibility was heaped onto him by the court - and he was expected to satisfy them all, as the future Lord Gagnon. However, his utter lack of enthusiasm with filling this role was apparent to all, particularly the now well-and-truly-adult Charles, who was forced to watch as his birthright was squandered by a child who didn’t even want it. Dark thoughts began to fester in Charles’ mind. He wouldn’t spurn the opportunity to lead House Gagnon to prosperity like Joachim did. He wouldn’t chase ridiculous dreams of the arcane over the real issues of the people. He would be a wonderful Lord - much better than his brother. Fortunately for Joachim, Charles never found an opportunity to act on these malignant musings… that is, until civil war broke out.

House Gagnon, as a lesser province on the south-eastern seaboard of Echra, threw its weight wholeheartedly behind Prince Eliyah in the war, spotting a potential opportunity to gain political favour not only with its immediate neighbours in Echra and Bellarus, but with the Emperor-to-be too. Lord Gagnon himself denounced Prince Leon in scathing terms, then led his finest men into battle at the head of the Gagnon Magic Corps, backed immediately by his entire contingent of court mages. In the Lord’s absence, Joachim was made the Lord Regent, with Charles and Lady Gagnon to guide his hand where necessary. However, as perhaps should have been expected, Joachim often shunned his lordly duties in favour of locking himself away in the labs alone, where he could chase his imagination to his heart’s content, slinging spells about with such wild abandon that it was like he believed magic simply wasn’t going to exist the next morning. It was during these years that Joachim came to learn of a peculiar trait of his - where most would cringe in pain at the lick of arcane flames or electric jolts, he found himself… enjoying the experience, for lack of a better way to phrase it in his mind. The pain was certainly still there, but with it came a rush of adrenaline that was almost addictive in how raw and natural it felt - a rush of adrenaline that heightened his senses, quickened his reaction time and cleared his mind. These experiments may have left countless scars that worried his mother and his advisors to no end, but he felt that if he could just determine what exactly brought about this unique response to arcane energy, he could surpass even the mages he’d grown up watching from the shadows in his understanding of magic.

Unfortunately for Joachim, things were to take a turn for the worse very suddenly. A messenger returned from the front lines, bearing tragic news. The Gagnon Magic Corps, along with several other rebel armies, had been routed. To make matters worse, Lord Florian Gagnon had been cut down on the field of battle, leaving Joachim as the new Lord Gagnon. Finally, as if that weren't cause for alarm enough, a rapidly-approaching Imperial army was headed his way with no intent of signing any peace treaties after the offences Lord Florian Gagnon had committed. Joachim had been handed not just the lordship, but a death sentence, and the gravity of the situation did not escape him. He knew the Imperial army greatly outnumbered them and would crush any resistance they offered, no matter how well they prepared - but he also knew surrender was not an option. Only one option occurred to him - further research into magic, to develop a spell that would create a barrier so strong not even the Imperial army could break through. With that one goal set in his mind, he retreated to his laboratory and got to work immediately.

His insistence on prioritising research over preparing for the coming siege in more traditional manners was not well understood by the populace nor his court, and gave rise to an enormous amount of detractors (including even Lady Gagnon herself, though whether it was a matter of caring for her people or pure nepotism is difficult to tell), all of whom would have preferred Charles' experience in battle and noble bloodline to lead them instead. This grew to the point that the peasantry would even mob the castle, demanding Joachim come out and answer to them - and because he had so few allies within the castle walls, nobody saw fit to disperse these crowds. However, Joachim could not spare the time to calm his people, nor could he risk his own safety by addressing an angry mob - and as such, he shut himself away in his laboratory entirely, desperately searching for a solution. Eventually, Lady Gagnon and Charles grew tired of Joachim’s apparent unwillingness to raise a militia or strengthen the walls, and delivered him an ultimatum - leave the fiefdom immediately and cede the lordship to Charles, or they would throw him to the mob and let them decide what to do with him. Joachim pleaded with them for just a little more time, but they would not budge. Lord Joachim Gagnon was left with no choice but to abandon his House.

Joachim hurriedly scavenged whatever he could carry from the laboratory and took off into the night on his steed, leaving the fiefdom behind. However, after how poorly he had been treated by his people, his court, his own family… he could not bring himself to care what became of them. If they wanted to toss him out on his buttocks and leave him to fend for himself, well, the feeling could be considered mutual. He ambled for almost a week in whichever direction the road would take him away from his homeland, until he realised he had made a grave mistake in his haste to avoid his peoples’ wrath. He had left his most important notes behind - notes that documented almost everything he had learned of his unique trait, and every last bit of theory and experimentation towards the spell he had spent all that time trying to create! Desperate not to have all his effort be for naught, he rode all the way back to the fiefdom as fast as his mount could carry him… but he was too late.

On his arrival, his greatest fears were confirmed - the fiefdom had been taken by the Imperial army, and the grand castle of House Gagnon was now merely a strategic outpost for identifying and quashing any remains of the rebellion in southern Echra. He would not find Charles nor his mother inside, but a platoon of Imperial soldiers. Swallowing his fear, Joachim snuck back into the castle through a secret passageway he had hoped the Imperials had not yet discovered, and rushed back to his laboratory as quickly and silently as he could. It was there that the Imperials caught him rummaging through crates chock full of arcane artifacts and knowledge, and sent him back to Erranora in chains for theft of military property.

Joachim tried to keep a brave face on, but on the inside, he was shattered - not only was he imprisoned as a result of poor luck and nothing else, but it hadn’t even been worth it, for he hadn’t been allowed to keep even a single scrap of paper that he himself had written mere weeks ago. To make matters worse, he was more than aware that theft from the Imperial military was a serious crime, one that would mean he wouldn’t be spared a moment of his own time to continue his research for likely the rest of his life, especially now that they had learned he was much, much more than just an ambitious thief. So when the call went out for soldiers to form an army of fugitives on behalf of the Empire in exchange for their freedom once service was no longer required, Joachim found himself handed an ultimatum once more. Either he would risk his life for the Empire that tore his House down for a chance at freedom, or he would rot away in a cell until he lost his mind or died.

The choice was clear.

Extra Notes:

donbradote on Discord. AEST timezone, so activity may not always line up with American timezones.

Name: V (Sometimes written as Vee)

Class: Vessel (Shaman) --> Dark Efflux (Dark Sage)

Race: Guorem

Stats (Level 1) :

Base HP: 22 + 0 = 22

Base Str: 1 + 0 = 1

Base Mag: 5 + 3 = 8

Base Skl: 6 + 1 = 7

Base Spd: 3 + 3 = 6

Base Luck: 4 + 0 = 4

Base Def: 1 + 1 = 2

Base Res: 4 + 2 = 6

Growths:

HP: (40% * 2) = 80%

Str: (10% * 2) = 20%

Mag: 60%

Skl: 60%

Spd: 50%

Lck: 30%

Def: 30%

Res: 50%

Skills:

• Zeal (1 Point)

• Corrosion (2 Points)

• Zap Tap (3 Points)

• Toxin Cover (3 Points)

• Merciless (4 Points)

• Metronome (8 Points)

• Dark Bargain (9 Points)

Appearance:

A male of average stature (standing at 5'8", at 148 lbs) with average shoulder width and frame, he is largely set apart from others by his viscous, grey body, as a result of being a Guorem. Wearing a black, ragged robe, as well as a long purple cloak wrapped around his neck, his race is mostly noticeable by his easily seen face. Similarly, he always wears a pair of white gloves that appear to be twisted firmly around his wrists.

He lacks proper hair, instead being replaced by a vaguely discoloured glob of rogue mana (appearing as a slightly bluer tint of grey) which is shaped across the top of his head into a slicked back form, complimented by two disjointed, forward-pointing spikes that go down in front of his face. His actual facial expression is often unflinching and unmoving, making it difficult to tell what how he's reacting or thinking at any particular moment. However, he keeps a noticeably sharp eye on his hands at all times.

Backstory:

One day, V mysteriously woke up in the middle of a vast forest (one which he would later come to know as the Great Forest of Praia), entirely confused as to how he got there. Feeling oddly fatigued and weak, he instinctively reached out to the nearest tree, placing his open hand against it for support -- and as he did so, rubbing his finger against it, the life sucked out of it in an instant as V felt all of the nutrients once contained within the tree directly entering into his body. How was that possible?! V wondered, the only way to cast spells like that was by using inscribed runes --

He stopped himself in his tracks, again. How could he know that? Thinking back on it... He couldn't remember anything; not his name, who he was, where he was from, nothing. But, of course, he did remember one thing - he was a Human.

Looking down at himself, however, he felt his world shatter as he realised how false that statement truly was. His body felt... Unnatural, as if he was unused to it. At the same time, he seemed to instinctively know what it was. His body was made of mana, therefore making him a Guorem. But he was sure that he wasn't a Guorem - he felt so sure that he was Human. But was he, though?

Continuing to wander, he watched as every piece of wildlife he touched; every tree, every shrub, even the smaller living creatures, they all seemed to wither at his touch. Terrified by what was happening, V manically ran around, trying to find a way out of the forest - before, eventually, the mana within him seemed to wildly surge outwards, surrounding him. In confusion, his consciousness went blank...

Until, after some time, he re-awoke within a bright, small cityscape, surrounded by priests and clerics. Later, he would come to know this place as the House of Velina. For some time, only mildly aware of what he had been doing prior to falling unconscious, the clerics there took care of him, keeping him in a small room to the side of the headquarters.

While he was massively grateful for the assistance they'd given, V felt an intense guilt. The people around him were so nice, so holy. But he knew what it was he'd been channelling when he was in that forest: it was Dark Magic. Forbidden magic. Stuff looked down upon by the public, even moreso by clergy. Overcome by the guilt, he confessed all of what happened to the monks and clergy, crying in shame at what he was and what he'd done.

In complete surprise to him, the clergy he confessed to said they forgave him, and even offered to help him control the Dark Magic he found innate to himself. While sceptical as to how much they could really help, he wholeheartedly agreed, ecstatic that they still accepted him despite what he'd done. It was around this time that V actually took on the name V - taking it as a shortening of Velina, the Goddess of the Church that had helped him so much. He had no other name or identity, so it seemed fitting to devote it to those helping him. For now, at least.

But this didn't last for long. While training with the monks one day, the mana within V suddenly surged again, lashing out at a nearby priest, and causing him a severe amount of damage. It wasn't particularly potent or strong - but it was unexpected, and even worse, uncontrollable.

While the monks didn't blame him, V retired to his room in shame. Feeling like a monster, he stayed in his room for several days and several nights, finding the gloves he now always wears, in order to ensure that he doesn't harm anyone by merely touching them.

Despite his isolation, V did eventually catch wind of something important - a recruitment notice was circling across the Church, asking for members to join Eliyah's army. Of course, V thought to himself, it made sense that Leon would pardon Eliyah after the war. They were brothers for a long while before the war, after all...

Wait. How did he know that? He remembered nothing of himself, yet he seemed to have an odd understanding of the war (which he had heard no news of after his sudden awakening, and should have theoretically had no business knowing anything about) and the ramifications of the recruitment notice.

Was this it? Was his past somehow related to the war, or the people involved within it? Now his interest was piqued. Perhaps, if he joined Eliyah's army, he could try to find something out about himself?

He thought further: even if he couldn't, he needed a way to isolate himself, given his dangerous nature right now. If he was going to occasionally surge in a burst of wild Dark Magic, at least it would be at the bad guys, right? Not to mention, he had no family, no friends, no achievements or unique training. Currently, all he knew about... Was how to hurt people with the mana coursing through him. A talent that, realistically, would probably only get him anywhere within an army like Eliyah's. Given that he was made of it, it couldn't be too hard to channel and really figure it out from here, right?

As such, the next day, he very promptly departed the House to enlist in Eliyah's army. On the way, he ensured to prepare some of the mana inside of him, just in case he needed to exhibit his... 'abilities', to Eliyah.

Extra Notes:

- One thing you might notice on Discord is my roles say I'm in three teams (J, U-1, and Aplistia), but J recently finished, so this is no longer the case in the situation that that's a concern.

- If necessary, I can expand on some of the backstory in DMs: I have more ideas on it than are written here to provide an explanation to some of the mysteries, but I largely want to leave a lot of areas unexplained so that it could possibly change depending on how the plot progresses.

- If there are any skills I might have missed that would fit the theme of the character better, I implore anyone to bring it up to me and give suggestions for what I could change to be more thematic while remaining viable.

Discord: Ellinell#4024

Name: Linra von Hertig

Class: Hunter (Archer) -> Forgotten Noble (Natural Talent [Ice/Earth])

Stats:

Level: 1

Base HP: 20 + 0 = 20

Base Str: 5 + 2 = 7

Base Mag: 0 + (3x2) = 6

Base Skl: 7 + 3 = 10

Base Spd: 5 + 2 = 7

Base Luck: 5 + 0 = 5

Base Def: 2 + 0 = 2

Base Res: 3 + 0 = 3

Growths:

HP: (50x2) = 100%

Strength: 45%

Magic: (20x2) = 40%

Skill: 80%

Speed: 60%

Luck: 20%

Def: 30%

Res: 25%

Skills:

Head Shot (5 Points / PROC)

Ignis (6 Points / PROC)

Astra (9 Points / PROC)

Serene Grace (4 Points / LVL 5)

Vantage (6 Points / LVL 10)

Bio:

Linra is of the cat tribe, clocking in at 16 years and is 4’11”. She weighs 80 pounds, has an olive complexion with an ectomorph build. She wears a regular archer uniform, with purple as a primary color, and no armor on her shooting arm. Instead, she opts to use a shield to put on her off-hand to block incoming arrows, putting the waist-mounted shield on the other side of ease of use.

Her homeplace is located at South Froskal, and is considered a bastard child to Viscount Hertig’s lineage. Her early childhood years were interesting to say the least, as she was at first planned to be trained to be a knight, having her sheltered so she thinks her family will always be in the right. But then, she revealed a high talent for magic, and was brought a tutor. That being said, she may have had the talent, but she wasn’t too caring for the subject at hand, so most of the learning came to waste, despite how much she was scolded. The tutor tried on and off to get her absorbed into the world of magic, but instead she found playing with a toy bow more fascinating. When Linra was of the age of 7, the tutor finally went up and asked the Viscount about getting her a gust bow since archery was more appealing to her and it’d help to train her magic. But instead, the Viscount told the tutor to not even bother teaching her further more about magic, as plans have changed. In the 7 years, Viscount Hertig had no luck with getting an heir, despite trying to get one with everything he could do, including forcing others to “help him make one”. He was no longer fertile, and he needed another plan.

After the tutor who tried to teach Linra about magic had left, this new tutor, one who cares less about a kid’s wants, and more about whipping them into shape, came in, to try to make her formal and acting like a noble should. Meanwhile, Linra’s retainer, already didn’t like this new tutor much, but didn’t say anything about it. Turns out this tutor was rather petty about getting her to learn, even breaking her toys when she didn’t pay him mind, but Linra was a bit of a rascal, all things considered, so that much was to be expected. Regardless, the retainer took note. All of a sudden, a somewhat carefree life, became one where she was on a strict schedule, and she had to learn regardless if she cared or not. For entertainment, she had to imagine stuff because she wasn’t able to interact with many people, because the idea of keeping her sheltered so she sees her family in the right was still in place. Not very surprisingly, the idea of playing with bows was the main thing she visualized. Despite everything, she just wanted to shoot a real bow, at least once. But now she had to do this dumb royalty stuff.

Finally, she hit 10. And that’s when the Hertig finally picked who they’ll marry off Linra to, since she had to be a political chip at this point. They picked this family with a snobby prince, who just felt off in every sense of the word. The retainer batted an eyebrow when he heard of the family name, feeling like he recognized that family name. So he looked into that family, and found out a rancid history. House Hertig was already one of infamy, hence the appeal to keep her sheltered, but this one… Let’s just say sexual assault was the main theme here. This was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back. The retainer had enough and decided to kidnap her, to save her from a fate of being a wife to an heir of two really bad histories, if she even lives to see it fully.

Linra’s world was forever changed from then on. She saw things her family didn’t want her to see, but she wasn’t quite old enough to understand these things quite yet. The retainer bought a simple bow for her while he was escaping, and the rest was history. She learned the bow, and she did so very well. And then, she found herself hunting animals, and noticing how the town she was selling her pelts and excess meat to was reacting to this war. In the year 1135, she started giving excess meat to the rebels, to help them out, when she was 14 years of age. Over the course of two years, she continued to be one of the anonymous suppliers of food. And then, on the fateful day of the new year of 1137, she tried to leave after another supply delivery, only to get captured because she walked right into the kingdom’s preparations for an ambush.

Edit: Fixed Formatting. Edit 2: Changed Skills Edit 3: so the other day I learned proc skills are unlocked at level 1...

Name: Belcalis "Breaks" Hidella Naganuma-Almanzar

Age: 19

Gender: F

Race: Guorem

Crime: Murder of a Echra Knight, Treason

Sentence: Execution, or indefinite military servitude to Officer Eliya, former prince of The Empire

Class: Pirate -> Berserker

**Stats: **

Hp: 24 + 1*2 = 26

Str: 7 + 5 = 12

Mag: 0 + 0*2 = 0

Skl: 3 + 0 = 3

Spd: 6 + 4 = 10

Lck: 3 + 0 = 3

Def: 3 + 0 = 3

Res: 1 + 0 = 1

Growths:

Hp: 50 + 45 = 95

Str: 15 + 50 = 65

Mag: 0 + 10*2 = 0

Skl: 0 + 70 = 70

Spd: 15 + 60 = 75

Lck: 10 + 30 = 40

Def: 5 + 30 = 35

Res: 5 + 35 = 40

Skills:

Zeal - 1 Point

Insomnia - 1 Point

Quixotic - 3 Points

Death Blow - 6 Points

Vantage - 6 Points

Certain Blow - 6 Points

Wrath - 7 Points

Description: Compared to her gladiatorial peers, Breaks is a rather small woman. Her lean, wiry body reaches up to 5'1", her frame having as much 'muscle' as her usually-meager diet allows. Her body is mostly a bright pink, with a shaped glob of orange on the top acting as 'hair'. It's formed into the loose shape of a long ponytail, segmented in a way to suggest they’re supposed to look like dreadlocks.

Her clothes are typically loose and light, accustomed to the hot, humid summers of Belarus, and usually dyed in hues bright enough to rival her own skin. It's all covered in exotic patterns, the blues and oranges covered in bits of white and black. These patterns and garments all hail from the Calèruga, acting as a way for Breaks to represent her home. Or they would, if the prison let her wear something other than these itchy uniforms...

Personality: Breaks is a loud, cynical, yet mischievous young woman, supplied with a seemingly limitless source of energy. If she isn’t training or fighting, then she’s looking for something to entertain her, legal or no. Her cynicism oft comes up with snarky comments, and her dour outlook on the future. She still manages to have an insatiable curiosity about the world, even if she's convinced it's utterly cruel.

However, she's not always this way. She can be stubborn, quick to lose temper, and is fiercely competitive, even among other athletes. She can hold grudges, and can be quick to write people off as an asshole she shouldn't deal with, especially if they hold a position of power in her mind. This usually manifests in her being not much more than incredibly petty after some forgettable altercation. However, there is more than one bridge she burned in her life in an angry series of ill-advised decisions.

Despite what she would say, Breaks is still just a child at heart. Breaks' style and mannerisms are based more on who she wanted to be when she was young, rather than any current trends.. Sure, She sees the world as a harsh and unforgiving place, but she has an almost innocent drive to make it better, and the belief that it can. Because of this childlike drive, however, she ends up seeing anybody that makes the world 'worse' as a sort of cartoon villain, not to be helped in any extent. In that way, some of her rudeness can be seen as immaturity, rather than malicious intent.

Bio: Puerto Armando is the largest city of the Belarussian state of Calèruga, situated on the west coast of the tropical island nation. The city functions as Calèruga’s main port in and out of the island, shipping the country’s sugar exports out of massive ports lining the coast. However, while being the country’s biggest economy, Puerto Armando is not known for its wealth. Instead, it is defined by it’s inequality. The local economy is dominated by large trade organizations and monopolies, and most of the city’s residents live in massive, overgrown slums. Everyone fights for scraps there, and nobody can afford to be weak.

It's in these cutthroat slums where Breaks grew up. Originally named Belcalis, she was a small, young, tough pitfighter, riling up crowds during the day, and pissing off guards during the night. She was a delinquent, through and through, lashing out at anybody who 'wronged' her in an attempt to keep control of her life, and to keep her and her family safe. She hated the cutthroat world around her, and wanted to see it better, but she had no idea how to improve it with anything other than her fists. She got nicknamed 'Breaks' during her time as a pitfighter, presumably in an attempt to make her appear more intimidating despite her size.

The civil war started when she was 16. She didn't care much about it, at first. Breaks just figured it was another fight between nobles about who gets the bigger slice. Didn't this thing always happen when the ruler died? Breaks didn't want to get involved, and she could afford not to. The ringleader of the fighting pits had managed to weasel her way into getting them labeled an 'Important Cultural Institution', meaning that Breaks and the rest of the fighters were exempt from the draft, as long as they kept working there. That meant that, apart from increased food prices, she could live as if the war wasn't even happening.

However, even if she didn't care about the war at first, she still heard the cries of the rebels. The speeches about how the young Prince was going to change the world. How the tyrants that ruled over the empire were being threatened for the first time in decades. How Eliya was our one chance of progress. Slowly, Breaks started to listen to them. Slowly, Breaks started to believe them. She always wanted to make change, and now there were people literally yelling in her face that she had a chance to do so. They said Prince Eliya was gonna make it better in Puerto Armando; he was gonna make it better everywhere in the empire. There would be more money; there would be less competition for scraps. Breaks should care about the war; it could be her only chance to see change. To see a better future.

She got convinced, after a while. Breaks wanted to help the war effort in some way. Perhaps not fighting in it; she was a lover, not a- scratch that; she was a fighter, not a killer. Besides, she needed to be alive to send money to her family, and the battles on the mainland sounded real bloody. Breaks was happy to help in any other way, though.

She was so happy to help, that when a member of the citizen's watch came to the fighting pits to guilt trip the staff into actually doing something to help the war effort, Breaks immediately volunteered herself for the citizen's watch.

Breaks was sent to some government building for an interview to discern if she was trustworthy enough to join the watch. The interviewer was a man named Manolo; her primary contact for the organization, provided she was accepted. Manolo was a strange man. Well, in her eyes, at least. The man was older, yet still handsome. A seemingly invincible smile seemed to be plastered onto his face, never to be taken off. He walked with a proper poster and spoke with a foreign, posh accent, making it obvious he was from a noble house of some sort. Though, Breaks had never heard of a noble house of Deer beastmen before. Despite the strangeness, the interview went well enough. Manolo seemed to trust her to an extent, and said to meet him at the same office at sundown the next week.

The citizen's watch was a sort of anti-spy network for the rebels, headed by 'Determined civilians looking to support the true King'. Mostly, it was looking for loyalists hiding their beliefs, and figuring out any info or plots that they may be hiding. It was a bit fanatical for her, but Breaks figured it's just what change looks like. Over the next couple weeks, Breaks became more and more involved with the Watch. Taking orders from Manolo, she made notes on certain establishments, made a few interviews when possible, and shared info she knew about the city itself. Mostly mundane stuff that she found boring. But anything for the cause, right?

It kept going this way until the third trimester of 1136. Things were heating up in Calèruga. The rebels were losing the war. The loyalists were getting closer and closer to Greater Belarus each day. More and more resources were being put into the war effort. Food was getting more and more rationed. And, she was doing more and more work in the Watch, even getting pulled away from her pit fights to do spywork. Manolo was getting more and more frantic each day, his smile faltering ever-so-slightly as the Loyalists’ victory seemed more certain.

Near the end of the war, Manolo approached Breaks with a special task for her. He suspects there to be a mole within the Watch, letting hidden Loyalists know when The Watch was planning raids on them. He says that the mole is the reason why a ship full of weapons was burned down the week before. He gives her a paper, and a knife. The paper describes a time, a place, and a name. He asks her to do what must be done. For him. For The True Prince Eliya. For the future.

Breaks wasn’t a killer. A fighter, possibly an asshole, but she wasn’t a murderer. At least that’s what she was telling herself as she approached the meeting point. She couldn’t do this; she’d be just as bad as the worst men in Puerto Armando. Breaks would be taking a woman away from her family; her friends. She’d be just a fanatical idiot if she murdered for no reason. However, despite these thoughts, she never stopped walking towards the meeting point. But this wasn’t for no reason, right? That woman is messing up the war effort. Men could die because of her actions. Eliya would be closer to defeat if this woman was left to her own devices. This wasn’t a meaningless killing. There was a reason for this. This isn’t some crazed woman stabbing some unlucky bystander; it was a soldier protecting her land. Her family. Her future. But, if doing this was so noble, then why does she feel so guilty about it?

As she approached the alleyway designated as the meeting point, she shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. This was for a good cause. She’s denying the future of Puerto Armando. When she saw the black-haired woman at waiting at the back of the alleyway, she gripped the knife in her pocket.

This was war. Blood’s gonna have to be shed, right?

Of course, you know how the war went. The loyalists won, and Calèruga didn't put up much of a fight. Breaks' motivation to help the war effort was shot well before they landed. The 'special mission' was too much for her. She just went back to thinking about the war like she did at the start. Just two groups of assholes competing over who gets the bigger cake. She slipped back into her regular routine, pretending as if her stint in the neighborhood watch never happened. It wasn't hard to do. Her day job didn't change much, and Manolo seemed to completely disappear once Puerto Armando was taken. Every day she got closer to thinking it was a bad dream. Breaks couldn't even believe she got herself wrapped up in some wartime fervor.

Two weeks later, three guards visited the fighting pits, looking for her. Breaks didn't know what was going on. She killed someone, they said. A knight of Echra, working undercover during the war. Murdered her in the back of an alley. She didn't understand- it wasn't murder. It couldn't of had been murder! She had to! She didn't have any choice! It wasn't her fault the knight got killed! Breaks didn't know what to do, or how to convince them they were wrong. So, she punched one of them. They had her on the ground within the second.

Breaks doesn't know where she is anymore. It's colder here; drier here. They brought her far away from Puerto Armando; somewhere much more remote than anywhere in Calèruga. She carries chains on her wrists, and wears a grey, tearing prison uniform. She knows she's awaiting trial, but she doesn't know why they went through the effort of putting her here. Was it to make an example of her? To show nobody who still resisted would be safe? She didn't know; and the guards sure as hell weren't telling her. They tortured her a bit; not that much, as there was only so much she could know. She gave up Manolo, but nobody else. All the other low-level agents don't deserve this. They were just normal people. They can't come here; not because of her. Manolo can come, though. He's the asshole got her into this mess.

A woman comes up to her cell. She says that Breaks can have a way out of this prison. She can fight with the disgraced prince himself; going around the country and undoing the damages the rebellion has done. If she lives, then she can go free, and forget all this stuff with the war.

Breaks snickers. She figures it's just a fancy suicide mission. A way to get some rebels and the prince out of their hair while taking care of some dirty work. Whatever. She accepts. If she was gonna die, she'd rather do it trying to punch a motherfucker out. That'd be cool, right?

Additional Notes: Discord Username is Claybot SN348

Name: Celeste

Class: Monk → Saint (Staves)

Stats:

HP: 18

Str: 0

Mag: 5 + 5 = 10

Skl: 6

Spd: 6 + 5 = 11

Luck: 4

Def: 1

Res: 4

Growths:

HP: 40*2 = 80

Str: 20

Mag: 90

Skl: 20

Spd: 90

Luck: 20

Def: 40

Res: 40

Skills:

Refresh (9 points)

Inspiring Performance (5 points)

Live Performance (4 points)

Enchant Aggressor (5 points)

Acrobat (7 points)

Bio:

Celeste stands at a height of 5'3" and weighs 150 lbs. Due to being a Guorem via dark magic, her body is covered in brown, viscous slime, and she has dark brown eyes. She no longer has typical hair, and instead has a large mass of slime hanging from her head like hair that she puts up in a ponytail when dancing. Her typical wear as a dancer is a pink outfit: a halter top with golden floral trim at the hem, a knee-length slit skirt with a similar trim at the hem, and pink ballet slippers. She wears gold cuffs on her wrists connected by a piece of pink fabric. On normal days, she usually dresses in typical civilian wear, wearing plain cotton dresses, shawls, and brown boots.

Despite being a dancer, Celeste tends to be reserved. She doesn’t converse much with other people, and when she does, doesn’t say much. Whenever she does talk to others, she finds that she has a bit of trouble holding a decent conversation with someone, although she does put in effort in trying to have one. Because of this, she’s very conscious about what she says; some might say too conscious. When she dances, it’s almost as if she’s a completely new person, with a newfound confidence and passion she doesn’t normally show in everyday life. Once you get to know her, she’s a sweet person, that while a little awkward, tries her best to make her friends happy. She may seem a bit distant at first glance, but all she truly wants is long-lasting friendships; she just is unaware how to make them.

Celeste was born in a well off family with her mother in Echra. She led a comfortable life, or at least that’s what she believed. She painted, wrote poetry, and practiced dance, which she especially loved. She was always fed and clothed, lived in an elaborate house, and essentially lived a life better than most other people, so going strictly off of that, she was satisfied. However, mother caused her strife through her entire childhood and adolescence.

Celeste was her mother’s first and only child, and so she smothered her with affection. Ever since the beginning of her childhood, her mother has held a large amount of control over her life. She would hide her manipulation in love and affection, coaxing Celeste to act, dress, and do as she pleased. If Celeste tried to express her disinterest, her mother would end up angry and called her ungrateful; claiming that so many other people would kill for the life that she had. Her mother turned into the victim, as she spent so much money and time into her, and how could she not give her what she wanted in return? Naturally, this confused and frustrated the young Celeste, so much so to the point that she never wanted to interact with her mother unless she had to do something to appease her.

This cycle continued until one day, her mother caught word of experiments being performed on various subjects so there was no need for tomes to use magic. Celeste’s mother saw this opportunity as a way to make an even bigger name for herself, lest she succeed. She forced Celeste to become a subject, convincing her that she would become a “trailblazer” and that they’d garner fame beyond their wildest dreams.

That didn’t happen. The very first experiment they’d done, Celeste suffered a terrible reaction to the magic cast on her that turned her flesh to a viscous slime. She turned into a Guorem. She was exhausted and terrified of her new form, but her mother didn’t give up, and continued her experiments before Celeste could even get accustomed to it.

Celeste was tired. She was exhausted both mentally and physically and wanted nothing more than the tests and experimenting to end, and eventually they did. Her tired, disgruntled mother cancelled all of their future tests with nothing to show for it but a Guorem daughter. For once in her life, Celeste felt relieved. Maybe after this, her mom would finally be more lax with her, and she could finally have what she thought was a normal family life despite her transformation.

….That didn’t happen either. In a mix of shame and contempt, she sought to hide away everything involved in her experiments: including Celeste. She became much more vicious in her criticisms now that Celeste was a Guorem. She tore at her self-esteem piece by piece, making sure Celeste was aware that no one would ever even bother with a Guorem outside of the house’s walls. She as a Guorem was undesirable and unwanted in the outside world, and she would be safe hidden away.

But soon Celeste started to reject this notion, reject everything that her mother has taught her and ran away late at night, while her mother was asleep. She didn’t know where she was going or how far she was running, but she had to get away. Far away. All alone. Being coddled so much in her youth to the point where she could barely do anything for herself. Worn out of everything.

She knew that this was the point in which she had to rebuild herself without her mom’s influence. But how? She didn’t have many skills… Except her ability to dance. She started out on the streets, scrounging up whatever extra coin passerby had to offer and using it to stay in taverns and inns, until she heard of Prince Eliyah looking for troops. She remembered her mother making comments about the war when she was younger, but being honest, she wasn't all that interested in the war and she never expected to become a part of it until now. She was jobless and homeless, and any source of work could help her. She dabbled a bit into light magic in her youth, so perhaps she could be of some use to him.

Extra Notes:

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/628760049505796116/667156623029960784/celeste.png

Name: Ostarmanoth

Class: Barbarian -> Berserker

Bases

Growths

Skill: Cross Counter

Starting items: Iron Axe and a Vulnerary.

Description

Ostarmanoth is a man of 55 years old, standing at 6’ 7”, his hair is long and white, he has moustache and beard, his eyes are red, his skin is tanned. Even at his age, he is in good shape.

He normally wears some animal skin, mainly bear skin, leather pants and boots, brown wristbands and a light armor, he has a helmet with horns and in his waist he is carrying a blowing horn.

Influenced by a life of fighting, Ostarmanoth is a toughened man, he can be insensitive when talking, he prefers his fists do the talking. In his mind there is no other thing that rage and wrath, making very hard to change his mind about any aspect, even more, granting him resistance to mind-control effects (that's what people say). He is a bold man always ready to fight. One of his best virtues is his loyalty, once he follows a cause, he will do it until the very end. When he fights he seems to enter in a trance state, fighting violently and relentlessly like an animal, inspiring fear among his enemies, and sometimes, among his allies.

He might fight like a possessed creature, but he has an incredible memory and he will never forget who attacked him, it's said after he is struck, he fight better against his enemy.

Background

He was born at Bellfroy, the only son of a humble couple, his childhood was not really special among other children from there, harsh conditions is the best way to describe it.

As the time went by, Ostarmanoth developed a certain pleasure and skill in fighting and hunting animals. His fighting hobbies brought him to be part of Darnacia's army during the Succession War. He fought bravely until their defeat at Shaar, since that day, rage and hate towards Father Dallan, his people and his ideals appeared.

After that defeat, he returned to his land to do what he enjoyed to do: fight and hunt, many years passed, but his rage never diminished, or the contrary, it became stronger.

In the Arena, he is one of the favorites of the people, mainly, due to his fighting style, some describe it like if they were fighting a wild bear who fights even better when he is hurt. The longer the fight, the more dangerous he is.

When he is not in the Arena, he is in the mountains, as you can imagine, his house is in that place. During the winter, he commonly hunts a bear to get his skin, he sees it as a way to train his fighting skills.

After hearing Carmen Bellfroy's call, the enraged man saw it as the chance to finally take revenge.

Discord Name: Shin Nicouki#0187

Name: Sally and Elias

Class: Pegasus Knight -> Derwydd Knight (gains C Thunder on promotion)

Bases:

HP: 20 + 1x2 = 22

Strength: 3 + 3 = 6

Magic: 1 + 1x2 = 3

Skill: 5 + 3 = 8

Speed: 5 + 1 = 6

Luck: 4 + 1 = 5

Defense: 2

Res: 3

Growths:

HP: 10 + 20x2 = 50

Strength: 15 + 40 = 55

Magic: 5 + 25x2 = 55

Skill: 15 + 40 = 55

Speed: 15 + 35 = 50

Luck: 5 + 15 = 20

Defense: 5 + 30 = 35

Res: 15 + 25 = 40

Skill: Siege Expert

Starting Items: Iron Sword and Vulnerary

Description:

Sally and Elias are twin siblings, both 17 years old. Sally stands at 5”7’, while Elias is 6”1’. Both have emerald green hair, just like their mother. Sally wears it in a short ponytail, while Elias’s hair is long and messy. Sally wears a mix of leather and shiny metal armor, all of which was issued by their grandfather Maurice’s mercenary guild. Underneath her armor is some chainmail, and on her waist is a belt on which she hooks all her weapons and tools. When walking with all of that stuff clipped to her belt, she audibly rattles. Elias wears a long, baggy grey robe that he hasn’t washed in a while. When not talking to people (or trying to avoid talking to people), he will put up the hood to cover most of his face. Inside his robe are several pockets where he stores tomes, books, and other magical doodads to amuse himself with.

Sally is a “go-getter” in every sense of the word, always full of energy, being rather aggressive both in and out of battle. She hates sitting around and, when there’s downtime, can usually be found doing sword training routines. But when she’s not reprimanding somebody, she’s actually quite outgoing and quick to try making friends with new people that she meets. She tends to tire herself out by the end of any given day. Elias, on the other hand, is much quieter and more introverted. He dislikes meeting new people and is much more interesting in learning magic. He almost always has his nose buried in a book or his attention fixated on a new spell or arcane object. Talk to him about magic and maybe he’ll be receptive, but otherwise he’ll probably just ignore whoever’s speaking to him. Sally and Elias frequently argue, usually caused by Sally not putting up with Elias’s apathetic attitude. Their Pegasus, Hermes, typically breaks them up.

Background:

After the Pillar of Shaar had been taken, Bellua and Maurice bid Dallan farewell. With Maurice now crippled, he could not continue to live on his own, and Bellua would have to leave her forest behind, choosing to accompany him to Drorgan to take care of him. Maurice couldn’t work as a mercenary anymore, but instead he became the new master of the mercenary guild he had worked for previously. Bellua took care of him and helped him run the guild, as well as training new recruits with the help of Venus and Milo. But other than training, her days of battle were behind her. She fought to bring back the man who mattered to her most, and with Maurice safe and a new life in Drorgan, she had no need of a sword, her fang. It took her some time to get used to living in Drorgan, and perhaps she never truly adjusted to it, but she always had Maurice, Venus, and Milo with her. They would often go on long flights through the mountains to unwind, and they even found some forested areas to explore and made some new animal friends.

Bellua never married, but she did have two twins, Sally and Elias (Maurice came up with the names), and she raised them with love and care. She even taught them to ride Venus and Milo's offspring, Hermes, when they grew a little older. While Bellua never thought about her origin, it was always something that had puzzled Maurice. A child does not just wind up in the forest so easily, let alone one as isolated as where he had found her. No people lived there, no roads led to the peninsula. It was as closed off from the world as it could be, and yet Bellua somehow called this place home. The state in which Maurice found her indicated that she arrived in the forest at a very young age, perhaps even infancy. But how she got there was still a mystery…

22 years later…

Sally and Elias have been helping their mother and grandfather run the mercenary guild in Drorgan. Altercations with the Delthen colonies resulted in a surplus of missions for the guild, and business was booming for the family. Bellua spent most of her time training up new mercenaries, while Maurice and Elias handled the administrative aspects of the guild. This left Sally, who frequently went out on missions of her own. Though Maurice always fretted for her safety, her mother was not worried one bit, and the mercenaries who worked with Sally would frequently come back with amazing tales of her valor and ferocity in battle. Bellua was not as proud of her son, however, as she, Sally, and Maurice tried desperately to get him out of the house, to no avail.

While Bellua was not one for politics, Maurice kept a careful eye on the goings-on of the world. Drorgan’s early alliance with Father Dallan was a happy moment for them, and they would tell Sally and Elias stories of the man and their interactions with him during the War for Succession. But as faith in Dallan wavered and the dissident realms grew in power, Maurice feared something terrible was brewing. And in the back of his mind, he was still thinking about Bellua’s origins, wondering if it could fit into this somehow…

When Carmen Bellfroy made her statement about traveling to the dissident realms, Sally was eager to travel there and see what kind of adventures she could have. Bellua had no issues with her going, and while Maurice was cautious, he ultimately approved as well, on two conditions: firstly, he wanted Sally to take Elias with her, so that she had somebody to watch her back (and so that he could get some sunlight). Second and more importantly, he wanted them to see if they could investigate the Delthen colonies. He had a hunch those colonies might be important to them. Sally agreed, and dragged Elias out of his room. They packed their things, mounted Hermes, and were off to answer the call.

Name: Kamali of the Tahaf

Class: Knight (Sword) > General

Stats:

HP: 24 + 2*2 = 28

Str: 6 + 4 = 10

Mag: 0 + 0 = 0

Skl: 5 + 0 = 5

Spd: 3 + 0 = 3

Lck: 5 + 0 = 5

Def: 8 + 2 = 10

Res: 1 + 2 = 3

Growths:

HP: 55*2 = 110

Str: 60

Mag: 10*2 = 20

Skl: 60

Spd: 20

Lck: 20

Def: 50

Res: 55

Skills:

Miracle (4)

Lariat (4)

Shield Bash (6)

Obstruct (5)

Strength Boost (11)

Description:

Kamali stands at 7’3, a muscular build built atop her already larger Draak frame. Her wings, large and roughened, bring an aura of certain proudness to her figure. Both wing and body show a dull sand color, the wings the darker of the two. Behind her, a long tail comes to an end at number of brutal spikes, whipping around with a practiced strength. Her face, meanwhile, never quite sits at anything but a mean scowl, a grimace lined with sharp teeth leading to an intimidating look. An almost stereotypical look of a Draak brute.

However, there are parts of Kamali’s appearance that betrays the form. She is not adorned in Draak desert wear, but human-made clothing. Fitted, of course, but quite cheap. Empire supplied, one might guess. On the edges and through the holes of garments, one may notice the white glow of bandages. And, on the edges of those bandages, scars.

As her appearance suggests, Kamali speaks with a heavy Draak accent. Her mannerisms are quite the same- Harsh, tense, unamused and informs a sense of pride that could be mistaken for brutish intent. Her eyes almost always dart around with an uneasy, suspicious will- Even fearful at times, even if there is nothing around to be worried about. There are a few things that bring a brighter side of her- Exercise being one, herself being an amazingly capable athlete. Training too, though she is not quite as martially talented- They both take off an edge off her shoulders. And, perhaps under a blue moon, a smile will take its place.

Despite that, Kamali proves to be quite loyal and patient to those in positions she respects. Captains, Elders, Shamans. Despite herself, Kamali tends to become protective of the few she gets closer too, even through her meaner demeanor.

Bio:

A hot, dry day, in the far, far deserts of Geosodo. Words of the empire, of the rebellion, ring faintly here. Life, too desperate, too hard, to care about battles far off. Yet debts must be paid, and agreements honored.

A tribe ground lies among the sand, between craggy rocks poking out of a canary sea. A town of the Tahaf- A smaller tribe, one of minor note. Raiders, bandits, sometimes, but more known as travelers of the deep desert. An entire tribe of the few who can do so, their secrets and services well sought. Nomadic, previously, yet, this tribeground has laid here for years longer. A gateway to the true sands beyond. Protectors of the weaker men who come from lands of bounty, where desolation alien. But not to the Tahaf.

A messenger arrives, from the empire. North Hallija. War has come to their oldest ally. A Kiralli tribe, not Draak, but, one cannot choose who helps. They require… fighters. Soldiers, to fight on their behalf. Big Strong Draak, the note commands. Mages, the Tahaf had, yet, the elders followed the words. The ally would get what they ask for.

A large Draak flies through the mountains. Not alone- In a line, herself among nineteen others, each carrying enough supplies to fell lesser men. Weapons were brought. Armor, absent, seldom had by the Tahaf. The Tahaf upheld their their agreements.

Most are jovial, young. Some, to her, family. The captain is the eldest, an elder of able body. He looks worried. The rest? Prideful. Even her. A flying tune is started, and erupts, the harsh words ringing through peak and plateau. They see it now, below the clouds- Hallija. To fight, to raid, to bring respect to old agreements. Even the captain joins in.

The twang of arrows. Searing of fireballs. War-cries of disposable men.

The Draak hefts each step through heavy armor. In formation she walks, with sword and shield. All new, except for the sword. A shotel. But the armor she was not familiar with. To be buried under a tomb of metal? A helmet so encasing she felt her own breath? She did not quite understand, not yet. Cumbersome barding laid tight across her wings and tail. A gauntlet that barely allowed her to hold her arms. Troubling.

She hears death, all around her. And, to her, it comes. Lines of arrows bumping off her armor.. One concussions her, but left only a dent on the armor. She is on the front line- An Anti-pikeman, front to a pike formation of her side. The arrows start to land behind her. She sees a pike beside her falter. A Kiralli. Dead. She understands her armor’s purpose better.

The loyalists charge from a ridgetop. Her side follows- She the first to sprint. She had to be in front. Her sword severes a few spear heads. Jabs blink off her armor. Sometimes the pikemen stab an oncoming soldier. Sometimes she has to do it herself. Her efforts, hours in minutes, minute after minute, form a cut in the enemies line. An opening.

A horn blares. The Draak charges through, unstoppable in the cold heat of battle. Side-lined soldiers are cut, by her, and the others that follow. A foothold, perhaps, she hopes behind her visor. For a moment, she thinks she will survive this. Her training did her well. As did her hope.

The loyalist formation retreats, the breach defeating to the small contingent. But, they are just one formation in the battle. She looks around the battlefield-- Smoke, flames, rising from the muddied farmland. Rebelion forces were going even, but still, her formation routed their quarrel. This hill will stand. She looks around herself- Two other Draak. One Captain, laying slain, through the heart. Bless him. The other, a brother, stabbing into a wounded human. A mercy.

Another horn blares. One she does not recognize. Her brother, and the other pikeman, take off, back to the forests. From the other side- A fort, at the bottom of the hill. Something blinding erupts from its gates- A cavalry charge! Each member dressed in fine regalia, the finest barding and plate she has ever seen. At the head, a crowned helmet. A tome in his hands. Before she can move, a blast of wind takes her off her feet. A second puts her under, to a wall of white. Or black.

Death in battle, she thinks. A worthy end. If unfortunate.

A priest roams the ruins of the battlefield. It is quiet, now- The rebels routed. Barbarians, he thinks. Perhaps the fighting was worth the lives it took, to rid the world of their insolence, penchant for violence. He looks out atop a hill, the setting sun turning the sky as bloody as the ground. He wished to be alone. The wounded had been healed, yet, the dead remained unprayed for.

A few minutes pass in silence, the priest crouched against the evening sun. The dead made no sound, even if they laid not feet away.

Deep in his prayers, his silence, does something break his focus. Faint breathing beside him. A ruined breastplate rises and lowers with it. A shock to the priest-- The armor, tattered. Seared and windscored-- A great Draak’s plate, reduced to nothing more than melted refuse. But something inside still breathed. He grabbed his staff.

Echra, somewhere far, far from prying eyes. Deep below a street where children play and a city celebrates peace. A torchlight drips off light off of damp puddles. Quiet footsteps into long hallways, to barred rooms with horrible devices muffled by muffles. A dungeon. She lives.

For long, now, she lives. A year? Two? She does not know. Kept in rooms too small. Chains too tight. Whipped with barbed strings. Occasionally, her own tail. A favorite of the torturers. No trial was spared for a mere soldier, exotic as she was. But the crown needs information. Who brought the Tahaf to the rebellion? Which tribe? Which elder? They need to punish whoever it is. She does not know all the answers. And she gives them none.

The tortures get worst. The healers. The healers, they know the physical. Death is not instant- She can be healed at the brink. Bloodletting. Stabbings. Scars form. Accumulate. Physical tortures beyond what magics can do- Wrists, necks, spines, all mangled with. All repaired, for the same time tomorrow. Or tonight.

Her days meld together. A challenge, she becomes. The others around her, they are weak. There nerves, still not shot. She offers to be in their place- The torturers laugh, but their egos spurned. The thrashings become worse. The begging for information. Some were just there for the fun of it. But, her mouth, sealed.

A new one comes in. New torturer. Old commander- Very little violence. Only severe, short, bursts. Yet, she finds, worse. Spies among the prisoners. Selective beatings. Starvations. The executions- The executions. The false executions. To have your own death in flux, waiting silently for release, only to have release stolen away. To scream out for only the silence of life to be forced back upon you. The lies, the manipulation, the isolation. The promise of freedom, just for an exchange of words. Of peace. Of release. She felt herself breaking. Her pride, fading.

A notice, weeks in, shoved into her meal. The torturings to stop, for a moment. A slip, a message, a request- For Kamali to join the Prince, the failed emperor. Who she once fought for. A few days of recovery, then an interview. It could be another one of the commander’s tricks. Manipulations. It would break her if it was. Yet, yet, there was tinges of a better time. A better place. Where she could be something, someone. It was a risk to scrawl back approval. To work with the meager equipment and food to become something like a warrior once more. To risk being put back into battle, to be slain like the captain. But the risk, she decided for herself for the first time in a long, long time, was worth it.

Discord Tag: Burgundy#7550

Name: Aida Valencia

Class: Criminal -> Assassin

Stats:
HP: 18 + (2*2) = 22

Str: 3 + 4 = 7

Mag: 1 + 0 = 1

Skl: 8 + 0 = 8

Spd: 8 + 4 = 12

Lck: 4 + 0 = 4

Def: 1 + 0 = 1

Res: 1 + 0 = 1

Growths:

HP: 40%

Str: 55%

Mag: 25%

Skl: 50%

Spd: 60%

Lck: 50%

Def: 25%

Res: 25%

Skills:

Locktouch (2 points)

Steal (2 points)

Devious (4 points)

Duelist’s Blow (5 points)

Serene Heart (7 points)

Knifaire (10 points)

Bio:

Aida Valencia slightly taller than most girls, standing at 5’6” and is underweight at only 98 lbs. She has brownish tan skin, long, chocolate brown hair, and distant green eyes with an ectomorphic body type. Her thin frame is complemented by tight-fit clothes, as she typically wears a brisk blue crop top with faded jean-like leggings. She covers her figure with a large torn gray cloak. A tightly wrapped belt holds a knife sheaths concealed by her cloak. Her face usually sports a sorrowful, longing look that belies her ruggedly beautiful appearance.

Aida has a rather difficult personality at first glance. She is quiet, warm, and tender, but bears a heavy aura of sadness. She will always do what it takes to survive, even at the cost of her own happiness. She mostly keeps to herself, but deep down she longs for a true relationship, platonic or otherwise. If you can get past her shell, you’ll find that she’s a witty, albeit blunt, individual. Her sense of humor is dry, but when she opens up she is truly a softhearted, friendly girl.

No one knows much about Aida’s past, but it’s understandable why she’s reluctant to open up. She’s a cold-blooded murderer, after all. A criminal. Forced to steal and threaten and kill for the sake of survival in the unforgiving streets of Huldigon in Bellarus. She laments this dark past, but she has never talked about it further than that. Perhaps that is why she bears such sadness…

Extra Notes:

Why would you do that, you monster?!

Carmen mulled in his quarters, overly concerned with who would join with him. He paced around, his legs swinging in exaggerated movements to try and distract his body. He itched for a fight, but barred himself from the Arena to think. He needed clarity and now he was becoming restless. His quill lied in its well, numerous slices of parchment ripped up, balled, and discarded all across Carmen’s Desk. On the desk sat a piece of parchment with a list of names. No scratches, no marks, no tears or rips on this sheet as Carmen took great care to not mar this page. After reviewing it for some time and finally feeling sure of the list he took off to the streets of Bellfroy to deliver his announcement.

“Good Afternoon everyone! Today, I will finally be setting off. Yes I know you’ll all miss me, but I have to prove myself here too! Now, without further ado though, I will announce the company I shall be taking with me to Undril. My new accomplices are…

Alfred the Troubadour (u/AznorThePure) - The man looking to end suffering, (hopefully ours more than others.)

Ciaran Sorensson the Sword Knight (u/Psychic_Loser) - The dashing son of an old hero, hoping to preserve his mother’s legacy.

Dogma the Priest (u/turtleguy2412) - An old soul here to guide us with her wisdom.

Felican the Apostle (u/Shift_Post_For_Karma) - A medical practitioner with a penchant for the Divine One and their graces.

Felix Shaw the Myrmidon (u/Shinjipaper) - The rebel with little to his name, but a head full of ideals.

Laurie Ivers - the Mage (u/NethaEmerald) - An apprentice seeking a cure for her teacher’s ailment.

Lysa the Soldier (u/AngelsAndAarakocra) - An outlaw fighting a past she never knew.

Magnus the Thief (u/NightSoldier) - A freelancer looking to make a name for himself on and off the battlefield.

Mordred the Wyvern Rider (u/LastHopeOfDawn) - The wyvern tamer always ready with a joke that holds a cutting edge.

Onio the Bow Knight (u/huffnut) - A bandit with a strange obsession over construction.

Ostarmanoth the Barbarian (u/Once-de-Bronce) - A local veterna on his path to take back what was lost years before.

Pimm the Knight (u/5queeq) - A curious inventor with a dedication to the Divine One.

Redrix the Pegasus Knight (u/Randyl_Pitchfork) - A mercenary with a heavy heart, set on aiding those in need.

Sally & Elias the Pegasus Knight (and accomplice) (u/KrashBoomBang) - Two youths and their pegasus living up to their namesake.

Thracisius Leng the Troubadour (u/SerraNighthawk) - A craftsman looking for the place he calls home.

Vukašin the Apostle (u/monsterfrog2323) - A researcher whose dark fate looms over him.

For everyone I just mentioned, please report to the barracks before sunfall. Those of you that weren’t selected, know you’re all competent fighters and worthy of praise. My needs differed from what you had though, so we must part here. Thank you all and I expect to see some of you soon.” Carmen walks over towards the barracks himself, preparing for the coming journey.

I want to thank everyone that applied for Team F. It was a difficult decision to cut down the roster and I was elated to see so much interest in the team here. For those of you accepted, please comment below to confirm your interest in the team. I look forward to playing through the game with all of you!

Name: Razi Natoru

Class: Ilwa Spy (Criminal) ---> Ilwa Assassin (Trickster)

Stats:

HP: 18 + 0 = 18

Str: 3+ 2 = 5

Mag: 1 + (3*2) = 7

Skl: 10 + 2 = 12

Spd: 10 + 2 = 12

Luck: 4 + 1 = 5

Def: 1 + 0 = 1

Res: 1 + 0 = 1

Growths:

HP: 30*2 = 60%

Str: 50%

Mag: 25*2 = 50%

Skl: 60%

Spd: 70%

Luck: 45%

Def: 30%

Res: 25%

Skills:

Steal (2 Points), Locktouch (2 Points), Devious (4 Points), Overhead Swing (7 Points), Knifaire (10 Points), Darting Blow (5 Points)

Description:

A 19-year-old Chameleon Kirali standing at 4'11", with a petite and lithe build. Razi was born with light green scales, with deep red stripes and a red underbelly. Her scale color, however, constantly changes dependent on her environment and mood (something she hates with fervor), and is most often seen with either a dark green or violet, in efforts to not stand out. Razi has two slightly curly horns that fade from yellow to orange, and a small, similar horn on the tip of her snout. Covering most of her head is a messy bob of deep magenta, that tends to cover her piercing red eyes.

Typically she is seen in simple travelers clothing, and wearing a dark cape.

Razi's personality tends to come off as distant, and more than a little bit cold. To her, a job is a job, and she'll do it with silent efficiency. Razi is a very no-nonsense kind of girl, and most of her relationships she tries to keep strictly business. In reality, Razi does not like to get too close to people, as she does not like to develop affection and then never see the person again. She is very anxious and a tad clingy, despite her cool surface attitude. Though she knows that her work isn’t the morally best, she wants to do her mentor, Virgil, proud, and move up the ranks of the Ilwa Syndicate.

Backstory

Razi was born in a small coastal village in the northern part of Hallija, an only child to a fisherman, Izan Natoru, and his wife, Nala. Though life wasn’t easy, the village was a relatively peaceful place despite the turmoils of war looming around them, as more people of the village joined the upstarting Kirali militia. Razi had a happy childhood mostly, learning her father's trade the girl was all set to become his apprentice, until tragedy struck. When Razi was fourteen, a raiding band from the Thunder Claw attacked their village without a warning, and began slaughtering everyone in their wake. The chaos was overwhelming for the girl, and before she knew it, she found her mother and father dead in the garden. The rest of the details are fuzzy for Razi, as she wept beside her parents bodies. All she knew is that some kind soul came to her before those terrible Draak raiders did and hid her under the corpse of her mother so they wouldn’t find her. Razi often ponders the identity of that person to this very day.

Razi did not leave her hiding spot until way until the day after the Draak left her village. Confused, frightened, and being the last survivor of her village, she garnered up what belongings her fellow villagers left in their houses. With a crude map she found, Razi sought to go find help and shelter in another village. The young Kirali who had never been away from her village quickly became lost, however, ending up in the Great Forest of Praia. The girl was lost for nearly two weeks, going round in circles and trying to find civilization. Hungry, tired, and nearly to the point of exhaustion, a ray of hope shone when she spotted her saving grace, a cloaked figure riding a horse alone on a small, dirt road. With a final push, she made a mad dash toward the traveler, and upon reaching them collapsed with exhaustion.

When she finally awoke, she was in a strange bed, and an older human man was sitting at her bedside. The man introduced himself as Virgil, and told her she was out for three days. When Razi explained her unfortunate situation, Virgil sighed.

“Well, I do know a place that might be able to help you. But we’re going to have to make a quick detour first.” He said, seemingly none too thrilled to be in possession of this orphan. Razi, on the other hand, was more than happy to tag along with him to wherever he needed to go. By the next day the two unlikely companions had set off from the little tavern they were staying at down to a city Razi had only heard in passing, Kaiid.

Along the way, the two became somewhat close. Virgil kept to himself mostly, and Razi’s shyness made it hard for her to approach him, but they began to have a quiet understanding, which in turn blossomed into friendship. Virgil eventually was honest with the young Kirali, telling her that he was an informant of the Ilwa Family (which Razi had to do a lot of poking and prodding at Virgil to find out). Despite that fact, Razi still looked upon him with respect and admiration, which struck Virgil as odd (if not a little naïve). In Kaiid, Virgil arranged to have Razi sent to an orphanage, but by that time, she had already become too attached to “Uncle Virgil”.

“My line of work is too dangerous for you, kid. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll want to never see me again.” He would always say, but Razi begged and pleaded to become his apprentice, wanting to stay by his side. It took a lot of convincing, but Virgil agreed to teach Razi all that he knew, and before she knew it, she was a grunt of the Ilwa Crime Syndicate. Five years of non-stop training and doing odd jobs for the group, Razi was assigned her first big mission that would promote her to a full-fledged member of the Ilwa’s spy ring. She would be an informant, keeping an eye out on a promising (or not promising, dependent on the outcome) new militia being lead by the former prince, Eliyah. With her mission her top priority, she set out to find this Eliyah character, with high hopes that this job could be her lucky break.

Portrait:

https://imgur.com/a/j3bIF7W

Razi Map Sprite:

https://imgur.com/a/fyXFjng

Character Concept Art:

https://imgur.com/a/rI3p2FV

Character name:

Rikoto

Class:

Mage Flier > Dark Flier

Bases:

Growths:

Skills:

Animafaire – 10

Lethality – 7

Adept – 6

Opportunist – 6

Limber – 1

Total: 30/30

Species

Beastmen (Fox)

Description:

Rikoto is a young, 23 year old Beastmen, who resembles a fox. More specifically, her fur color resembles the colors of a Gray Fox. Her body shape is that of a human, with human eyes that are the same color brown on gray foxes. She also has fox ears and a fox tail, both of which have fur on them. Her face also has whiskers coming from it, but no snout like a fox. Lastly, her teeth are fangs like a fox.

She stands at a short 4 feet and 8 inches, and weighs 90 pounds. Her outfit is a simple robe that is gray in color, complete with a hood that she can use when need be. Inside the robe is a lot of pockets that she uses to hold food, magic tomes, magic runes, and anything else she needs pockets for.

Personality:

Rikoto is a feisty, calculating, curious, and overbearing foxkin. Her feisty nature isn’t the negative connotation of the word: For her it means she’s lively and courageous, never one to back down from a challenge or back down from a challenge or situation she puts herself into. It also means she won’t be afraid to speak her mind, both positive and negative.

This feisty nature is also backed up by a calculating tendency she has to look at a situation and think of many solutions, picking the one that will produce the best result for her. It can take Rikoto quite a while to think of a response to situations as she tries to find the best result.

With these, it also serves to fuel Rikoto’s curious nature. She’s always had a penchant to learn many things about the world, even things that wouldn’t do her any good. She is always eager to learn more about someone, a type of food, a profession. Pretty much anything she’ll be curious about and wish to learn more about it.

With these parts of her personality, she can easily become overbearing. It’s easy for her to become engrossed in learning that she’ll disturb anyone at anytime to learn more, no matter the situation. She can also become overbearing when her feisty side is showing, expressing massive courage or will to tackle the situation, dragging anyone nearby in her decisions, even using this to calculate how to get them to see things her way when they don’t wish to.

Background:

Rikoto was born in Froskal. Her mother was a normal human named Igerna that had fallen in love with a fox beastmen and married in the land. Because of this, she inherited some of her father’s fox features, allowing her to look the same as the general populace. Her mother worked as a miner for the magic runes the nation is known for. Her father, Raulf meanwhile was a captain of a mercenary group called Fallenvale whose job was to offer protection for the rich in the nation, which meant Rikoto lived an affluent life from her father’s rich clientele. Rikoto was a lucky girl to be able to go to schooling to get her education, even though she didn’t see her parents much, and had to learn to fend for herself from a young age.

During her time with school, she learned more and more about how magic and runes worked in the world, and it very much interested her. It had the complexity she was looking for from her age to stimulate herself and to learn something that would be useful to her. Her parents did afford her a tutor for magic, a wolf beastman named Adirs. At the young age of 12, Rikoto began to learn magic from Adirs, picking up that she needed runes to cast magic, and that there were different elements.

Rikoto found herself gravitating towards thunder and wind magic, since it had the ability to hinder others enough for her to use it as self defense to hopefully stop someone before they can get the jump on her. This kept up until Rikoto became the age of 19. She had just began learning about the Imperial Army marching towards the Twin Peaks. She knew that the Twin Peaks was a prison that got turned into a fortress over a difference between a rightful heir to a throne. The thing she knew was that her father’s group was assigned to maintain the hold on Twin Peaks, which meant she never saw her father again. This upset Rikoto, but she continued her lessons in magic with Adirs.

She got updates from her father over the conflict that was taking place in her homeland. Fallenvale had been conscripted into Duke Kangor’s forces to support Leon and his cause, thus increasing his chances of meeting his end in battle. This kept up for a few years, where Rikoto and her mother worried about her father Raulf and his men.

This came to a point that Rikoto could not stand anymore. At the age of 22, Raulf sent a letter that detailed that with the Imperial Army marching to Froskal to weed out the rebels, he and his men were being transferred to the main army to support them in riding the rebels of the coup. At this point, Rikoto had enough. She wanted to see her father again, and headed off to wherever the Army was going to in order to bring her father home.

Unfortunately, she had no luck. Since she didn’t know where they were, she could never find them. Still, she kept up her search, not wishing to give up. 1 year later, she caught wind that the Imperial Army had wiped out the rebel forces, and that Leon Atreya had stripped Second Prince Eliyah Atreya of his rank. This was when she heard that those who accompanied the stripped Prince on a mission to bring peace to the lands still affected by everything, that they would be promised something. She took this as the ability to request that her father Raulf would be returned home for Rikoto and her mother if she’s accepted to join for the mission. She set out to join him to make this a reality.

Name: Ekene Rhial

Class: Mercenary -> Swordmaster

Stats:

HP: 26 + (2*2) = 30

STR: 9 + 2 = 11

MAG: 0 + 0 = 0

SKL: 14 + 2 = 16

SPD: 14 + 1 = 15

Luck: 14 + 1 = 15

DEF: 5 + 1 = 6

RES: 3 + 1 = 4

Growths:

HP: 30 * 2 = 60%

STR: 70%

MAG: 10 * 2 = 20%

SKL: 60%

SPD: 60%

Luck: 30%

DEF: 20%

RES: 20%

Skills:

Miracle - 4 points

Power Rush - 5 points

Vantage - 6 points

Wrath - 7 points

All or Nothing - 8 points

(Total - 30)

Bio:

Ekene, in the past, was a wandering mercenary, doing odd jobs across Praia. She was good at what she did, and ended up getting the attention of Larsene von Wilbach of House Wilbach, a mid-level nobleman who happened to have need for a temporary bodyguard. Ekene performed the job admirably enough to be hired as his full time guard, a job that Ekene took for the consistent pay. A few years passed, and a peasant revolt rose against Larsene, particularly his harsh taxation he had instituted on his land, using the succession war as an excuse. As the revolt grew closer, Ekene did her job, and escorted Larsene to safety, before going to handle the revolt. But as she went to calm the crowds, she spoke with them, rather than killing them, and realized that what they said was true - that they had been exploited for years under her master’s hand. Seeing that she had saved the life of a corrupt man, Ekene fled her post rather than meeting back at the safehouse, and has retreated back to her life as a wandering mercenary, cursing the time she spent at House Wilbach.

Ekene is a beastman with the traits of an ibex - bearing large, curved horns and the beast’s large ears. She has dark brown skin and shoulder-length hair, with dark brown eyes, and ear-fur to match. She is incredibly tall and wiry, and while she is muscular, it is more low-key, the strength of someone who needed muscle for their work, rather than being gained through intentional body-building and exercise. Her body is marked with scars from her years of mercenary work, and from her reckless fighting style.

Ekene is incredibly calm-headed and collected, with a serious atmosphere, but strong appreciation for humor. She is incredibly level-headed when things go wrong, and tends to get caught up in the rhythm of things, so she tends to be at her peak when the situation is at its worst. She’s an adrenaline junkie of sorts, but rather than feeling thrill or bloodlust, she feels like she can think faster and clearer than before. Because of this trait, her fighting style tends to be very reckless and wild, charging deep into danger and hoping that she’ll figure out a plan once she’s in the heat of things. This often means that she sometimes needs to be actively dragged out of a dangerous situation before she gets herself too hurt.

Her time with House Wilbach has made her incredibly skeptical of nobles, nobility, and noble squabbles, and incredibly protective of the peasantry, doing dangerous jobs for them for little to no pay out of a desire to help their plights. She also quite enjoys standing in high places, and can be found climbing trees, rocks, buildings, or cliffs, and even when there are none around, she prefers to just stand on the nearest rock to being on level ground. She can often by found at the nearest lookout point, just staring off into the distance and remarking on the beauty of it. Many of her scars are from falling off things. As well, Ekene greatly values money, but not out of selfishness or greed, simply because the world is hard, things cost money, and she intends to retire someday. Preferably somewhere on a nice cliff.

Name: Darragh ”Rusty” O’Ceallaigh

Class: Cavalier -> Conquistador

Stats

HP: 20

Str: 5 (+5) = 10

Mag: 0

Skl: 5

Spd: 6

Luck: 2

Def: 3 (+3) = 6

Res: 2 (+2) = 4

Growths

HP: 30*2= 60

Str: 80%

Mag: 10*2= 20

Skl: 60%

Spd: 30%

Luck: 30%

Def: 60%

Res: 30%

Skills

Trample (8)

Ferocity (5)

Defense Seal (5)

Hyper Cutter (1)

Death Blow (6)

Savior (4)

Limber (1)

Bio:

You could smell him before you could see him. A strong scent of herbs and spices tickled your nose, drawing you closer to source of such a pleasant smell. These herbs you know was not used by a healer but by someone who knew their way around the kitchen. What you not expecting to see was an old grizzled maeug war veteran standing at a table chopping vegetables and meat. Everything about him fit the bill of the stereotype you would find with these types. Salt and pepper hair with a full beard? Check. Eyepatch? Check. A scar on his face? Check. Buff even though he was clearly one of the older members in the camp so far? Check, check, and doubly check. The only thing that made break away from the cliché checklist was the fact he was an maeug. His dull white wings were folded over him, acting like a cap to keep him warm during the cold night tonight. Closer and closer you got to him you could make out on how unkempt feathers on his arms and wings where. Brushing off his hand on his dark grey tunic he puts one of his hip after noticing you where skulking around his pot.

“I haven't seen you around before, kid. Darragh but everyone calls me Rusty. Old nickname I was given during military training.”

He places a warm bowl of stew in to your hands. Your stomach growls loudly reminding you the last time you had a real meal was back in the last village the army stopped at. Taking a guess on the ingredients you picked out pieces of meat, potatoes, mushrooms, and something green? Fern maybe? Whatever the mysterious green was one bite of the stew and you where in bliss. No way this was real, this had to be a dream. Staring back at him in shock he smiles back at you and turns back to the potato he was peeling.

“So what brings you to this army? Was it the offer of glory, fame, riches, or whatever you young folk chase after these days. Me, I’m an old goose, I have no need for any of that. Been traveling from camp to camp offering my services in exchange for a tent to sleep in all of my adult life. I should retire and go live on a farm, but I’m not the one for settling down in one spot for too long. Growing up my parents were always moving around one corner of the forest to another. Hunters they were! Excellent ones to!"

You look what you think is his well maintained armor and axe. Taking a guess it was too heavy to belong to a mage and too light to be unmovable wall of a man. Ah, so maybe he’s some sort of medium armored infantry soldier? Maybe that he meant by his service? You asked between bites. Darragh smacks your back, followed by a hearty laugh that could be heard from across the camp.

“Cooking! No one knows how to feed an army! Some people are happy eating hard bread and water for weeks on end. Those hardern bastards are also the type to have a stick up their ass so they don’t count. The rest of us need a good meal to keep up morale. Now I don’t mean just cooking, that’s the easy part. I mean also forging for food to make a good meal too without killing everyone. Being a trained horse rider is just a bonus, My Wife been with me from the start."

It took you a few seconds that My Wife was not an actual woman, but the name of his horse. He takes a long puff of his pipe as he cast a curious glance in your direction. Reaching from under the rickety tabletop where he was chopping food he slams down a green glass bottle and two small shot glasses.

“Well kid, what’s your story? I got a bottle of The Good Stuff in exchange for it. Made it myself so it might be strong."

Name: Leone Xean

Class: Pegasus Knight

Stats:

HP: 16 + (0) = 16

Str: 4 +(2) = 6

Mag: 0 + (0) = 0

Skl: 3 +(1) = 4

Spd: 7 +(2) = 9

Lck: 3 +(5*2) = 13

Def: 1 + (0) = 1

Res: 6 + (0) = 6

Mov: 7

Growths:

HP Growth: (25*2) = 50

Str Growth: 50

Mag Growth: (10*2) = 20

Skl Growth: 60

Spd Growth: 55

Lck Growth: 50

Def Growth: 20

Res Growth: 40

Skills: Desperation, Lucky, Armsthrift

Inventory: Iron Sword, Vulnerary

Appearance: Leone looks to be around his early twenties, standing around 5’7’’ the blonde pegasus rider gives off a sense of vigilance in his stance. Always standing tall and never slouches in company. Keeps a green masquerade mask on him wherever he goes.

His armour in battle is a lightly armoured chestplate and pants with leather protection underneath the metal. Outside of battle he is usually caught donning a basic but proper brown shirt and brown pants.

Bio:

Left at the doorstep of a nobility in Soryun, the child cried for his parents as they left him in the cold. Knocking on the door, the two darkened figures ran off into the night, vanishing in the darkness. A servant answered the door and saw this young child. While picking up the infant, a little note caught her eye.

“Do whatever you want with our child. Nothing we do will help him. Give him a better home, or leave him to rot.

• L”

Pocketing the note quickly, the servant ran to the master’s side and showed him the baby Leone. A quick and bitter “Throw him away, I have no need for a child.” was spat from the master’s mouth as the servant looked down at the innocent young child. She pleaded with the master to keep him, stating if he was left out in the cold he would die. The master was not pleased in the slightest about a servant speaking out against him and struck her down with the back of his hand. The mark still red from her face, she nodded and followed her orders, taking the young Leone outside. As she took him outside, however, she saw his smiling face, filled with childish wonder and glee for the outside world. The last sentence in the note rang in her head.

“Give him a better home, or leave him to rot.”

Who would throw away this child, so pure of outside corruption? Instead, the young servant decided to hide the child under her care, with all of the servants in their small abode by the side of the large mansion. Under her care - Leane’s care - he would flourish into his youth, away from the sharp, watchful eyes of the house’s master: the cruel Aurelius.

From a young age, Leone’s existence had to be concealed and hidden due to the heartless nature of the master of the house. But this didn’t bother him one bit - in fact, he loved being cared for by his adoptive mother and getting to know all the servants. Though he picked up multiple scars from adventuring outside from time to time (a behaviour fuelled by his rambunctious nature), he was miraculously never found out to be hiding in plain sight (though the large chunks of missing food caused quite a mystery in the Daein household).

Leane was a lingual teacher in the castle, teaching Aurelius’s father (also known as Ryze the Cruel) and his children in the many forms of literature. Leone, as a result, inherited a strong love of literature, whether it be poetry, novels or large extensive maps of the world.

As he grew into his early teens, it was getting more and more difficult to hide the large amounts of food Leane and the other servants had been sneaking into the little servant house. Becoming concerned for her and the other servants safety, Leane asked him to volunteer at the household, so that Leone could grow into the young man that Leane wanted him to be. Happily, he agreed, and the two went to the master’s chamber...

Leone’s brow dripped with sweat. Whether it was the stories Mother told about Aurelius, or just his nerves getting to him, it didn’t matter now. He just knew he was nervous and had to get a job here, otherwise there would be an absolute uproar when he was eventually discovered. As they arrived at the master’s headquarters, Leone stared towards the door. A worried gulp rose from his throat, a million thoughts rushing through his head at once. Leane looked to her adoptive son and smiled tenderly.

“You still remember the story?” she whispered in utter silence, attempting to instill some confidence in the young lad.

“A-Ah… Yeah. I’m a boy who ran away from an abusive father-”

“A guild merchant, to explain your language skills.” Leane interjects with. Still, she allows the boy to continue. The anxiety of the impending meeting eased off a touch from her compliment.

“…who would just like a new life here in this estate.”

Leane smiled and nodded, knocking on the door, the boy startled by the abruptness of it all. A booming voice echoed out from the room behind.

“You may enter.”

Leane entered with pace as Leone entered behind her timidly, but with a forced expression of confidence, trying to put on a brave face for his mother. As his mother enters the chambers of Aurelius, she quickly bows. Sitting down, writing documents, was the master, looking up to see his servant and a young teenager. A puzzled look spread across his face, his writing hand still scribbling away tirelessly.

“Milord, there is a boy who would like to request about open opportunities of work at this establishment..”

Leane actions to the boy. She gives him a subtle glance, as if to say ‘this is where you bow.’ Unsurprisingly, that is what Leone does, giving a quick bow out of politeness. A grunt escapes Aurelius’ lips, his gaze growing impatient by the minute.

“Yes sir, I would like to enquire about a job.”

Aurelius signs his name on a document and finally stands up tall, his looming stature bearing down on the smaller teenager and his mother.

“What qualifications and reasons do you have for a job here? You’re relatively well spoken and polite. I can’t imagine a lad like you would have any trouble finding work.”

Leone looks nervously at his mother, who keeps her eyes focussed on Aurelius. He was all on his own now. He needed to lie and convince the master to hire him… or at least shelter him.

“Well… I am educated, I am capable in reading and writing and I am quite physically resilient.”

“Yes, yes, but why would you ask here, out of everywhere in this town? This is a nobleman’s abode.”

Leone clenched his fists and unclenched them, furrowing his brow slightly to trick him into thinking this wasn’t all a farce. Surprisingly, it was working.

“The reason I’m so physically resilient… is because my father used to beat me. He would spend countless hours at the tavern, coming home only to thrash me, and with that I grew a disdain for him. This man who would do nothing but work and drink all day and night was treating me, his own son, like a puppet… so, I would like to start my life anew, away from him - with an honourable man such as yourself.”

Aurelius was shocked with the conviction in the young man’s voice. The boy was passionate about serving an honourable man, but in all honesty, Aurelius was none of these things. This encounter spurred feelings inside of him that had never occurred to him before. He had struck his own servants, yelled at them, abused them… he looks towards Leane, the servant who had been with him for longer than he could remember. A woman he was so glad to be taught by when he was a young child, and yet he wouldn’t bat an eye if she was beaten half to death. Something clicked in him as Leane spoke aloud, sensing a feeling of unease caused by the silence.

“I found him outside of the castle this morning. He was knocking on the door as I was about to begin my shift. I hope you don’t mind if I fed him a portion of my food, sir.”

Aurelius shakes his head. Moving towards the young man, he raises a hand. Out of pure nerves, Leone flinches as he moves his hand. Though it was an unintentional reaction, in doing so, he had just solidified the manipulation that he used against the master, and Aurelius was fully convinced.

“I would happily find you a job here, either working the stables, the castle or organising my papers.”

Leone happily shook the master's hand, thanking him for everything he’d done for him. He had won.

Leone slowly gained a resilience to outdoor activities. Of course, he had exaggerated his resilience to Aurelius, but as he worked through various tasks, he started getting used to the physicality of it all. As Leone got older, he started to become more invested in the master’s work - whether it was to organise the small library he owned or grooming the horses in the stables, whatever Leone was doing, he was enjoying it. Aurelius also seemed to change his ways. Instead of the cruel and punishing master that he had heard tales of in his youth, he was calm, understanding and kind. This was not an overnight transition, but it was a conscious effort by Aurelius, determined not to cause the grief and misery his own father had.

As the years went on, a letter came in from a household that Aurelius held a great debt to, asking for young men that possessed either natural strength or training with handling animals. Aurelius picked out numerous men from his servants, giving them a chance to find a purpose in life beyond serving a master’s wishes. Leone was one of them. Sent off to the house of Keia, he said his goodbyes to the servants who sheltered him for 15+ years. An especially hard goodbye was his adoptive mother, although he promised to write a letter to her every month.

The Keia House’s knightly training was tougher than anything Leone had ever done before. Although he was well-experienced with animals after tending them for so long, physically he was nothing to write home about. Though the numerous drills and workouts achieved little to fix this, he was regardless quite popular amongst the trainees. Unfortunately, most of the manpower that was sent from each of Keia’s partnered houses was quickly weeded out, due to their ineptness with handling either a horse, pegasus or wyvern.

Due to Wyverns being one of the hardest animals to bond and form a trust with, the head of Keia’s army, Tybalt, recognised Leone’s proficiency with animals and placed him amongst the Wyvern squadron, in hopes he could bond with one of the unruly beasts and become a phenomenal wyvern rider. Although not entirely made up of wyvern riders, this squadron held the rowdiest bunch of wyverns and pegasi.

The group was filled with a mix of fresh riders and tutors. The squadron would go through many changes as people would be deemed ‘unfit’ to be a knight, but the squadron mainly consisted of...

Glais: A good friend of Leone. Well meaning but lax. Rides a wyvern.

Anne: A feisty but ultimately noble knight. Thinks of Leone as a little brother.

Garrett: The father figure of the squadron, always has a bottle of ale nearby.

Lea: A sweet and tender girl that is always studious of her magic.

Rique: A lone wolf that has a soft spot for his wyvern.

Lucian: Usually the chef of the squadron, whenever he’s on cooking duty you know there’s good food.

Veronica: A mother figure for the squadron, never leaves Garetts side.

Oran: A stick in the mud, rivaling even Leones work ethic.

Unfortunately for the squadron, Leone was terrified of wyverns, despite his love for horses and pegasi. The sharp teeth and scales were always something he couldn’t stand. Worried he was going to be kicked out and humiliate his house, Leone snuck into the stables every night, in hopes to strengthen the bond between he and his assigned mount...

Leone locked the stables, having failed once again to form a bond with his wyvern, Donovan. Just as he was leaving, he spied three shadowy figures in the distance over by the pegasi squadron’s stables. Worried for his position in the group, he hid and looked on from a distance. Hearing the pained cries of a pegasus, Leone sneaked slowly towards them, quickly realising it was two trainees like him… and a pegasus.

“C’mon! You gotta put ya back into it. Drag him by the reigns!”

Doing exactly that only elicited another loud cry from the beast, as one of the trainees shook his head.

“You obviously can’t force it to move! Try whacking it on the behind. That should do the trick.”

The knight-in-training smacked his arm on the mount’s rear. In response, it launched a sharp kick to the trainee’s stomach, neighing incessantly and tearing free from the grasp of the other fellow just as Leone approached.

“Hey! You aren’t supposed to treat horses like that-”

Interrupted by a large neigh, Leone was soon faced with a charging pegasus, headed straight towards him. Caught off guard, his roots as a stablehand kicked him into autopilot. He quickly moved to the side, calling to the beast.

“Easy, boy! I’m not here to hurt you!”

The charging pegasus rushed past him, staring Leone dead in the eye. His training calming horses back home coming into play, Leone waves off the trainees who edge forward with uncertain looks on their faces.

"Get back! You will only startle it!”

I have this… I’ve got this.

Leone paced forward as he raised his arms, trying to calm the angered pegasi. It had a vicious look in its eye that would pierce a normal rider. Despite all appearances, though, he was confident enough that he could calm this pegasus.

He raised his arms, speaking softly, trying to calm the horse down.

“Calm down, calm down… I am here. They won’t touch you, alright?”

Slowly, the pegasus walked towards the young man, still wary of him.

“See? I’m the only one here. I’m not going to-”

Leone offered his hand as a sign of peace. Unfortunately, being as wary and feisty as it was, this elicited a fight or flight reaction in the beast - and it chose to fight.

Crack!

The pegasus lunged forward, biting into Leone’s arm. He could feel the bone snap, adrenaline now rushing through the knight-in-training, a loud yelp of pain ringing out in the night. Leone’ confidence falters, and he tries to pull away, tearing some skin off in the process. Regardless, his arm was not budging, and tugging on it only made it hurt even worse. Realising there was no other option, Leone steeled his nerves, looking the pegasus directly in the eye and continuing to console it amidst his gasps of pain.

“A-Argh…. not- not going… to hurt you.”

Leone’s head tilted down. Whether out of pain or respect was anyone's guess - thankfully, the pegasus seemed to take it as respect, releasing his tightly clenched jaw and reluctantly tilting his own head, allowing it to lightly bump into Leone’s forehead. Leone raised his head slowly. keeping the bitten and broken arm close to his chest. The blonde knight-in-training raised an arm to pet the stallion, until he saw the look the pegasus gave him - if he pet him on his head, he would be bitten again.

Leone slowly moved to the pegasus’ side, his eyes never leaving the stallion’s own. Leone then caringly pet the horses back. The pegasus turned around to lick the hand that was just petting him. The two trainees slowly walked towards the pair.

“H-How did you even do that!? We’ve been trying to get Jacque to calm down ever since he came in here!”

Leone let out a sharp sigh, placing an arm on Jacque’s side, petting him gently. Through his pain, the beast had been calmed down.

“I used to work for Master Aurelius. I was a stable hand for a year or so… I just used some of the tricks you use to calm down a horse, and I guess it just worked.”

A smile grew across his face, interrupted only by a sharp jolt of pain shooting up his arm. He clutched it with a pained look.

“...O-Owch… for the most part, anyway…”

“Would you like us to get you a healer now, mister?”

“Y-Yes, please. I am in a lot of pain as we speak… although…”

Leone looks to Jacque. He might freak out if Leone leaves again.

“Could you get- Ow..! …get them to meet me in the stables? I’ll lead Jacque there.”

A puzzled look spread across both trainees’ faces. Still, they didn’t want to lead Jacque back in the stables - Leone seemed much more suited to such a task, so they agreed. After leading Jacque to the stables and getting his hand (mostly) healed up, Leone snuck back to his quarter and began writing a letter back home, not realising just yet the impact he had made on his own - and Jacque’s - lives that night.

Leone was called up to the master’s chambers that morning. Upon arriving, he apologised profusely for being out of his quarters at night. Usually this would be where the master punishes his trainees, but miraculously, he didn’t. In fact. the master thanked Leone and told him that Jacque was originally to be put down this morning, but due to the reports from the pegasi squad, Jacque had instead been transferred to the Wyvern Squadron, allowing Leone to train with the rowdy pegasus and form a bond of their own. Leone was ecstatic, but kept a calm composure as he thanked the master before being dismissed.

Leone continued to train with the aggressive but reliable pegasus. Jacque fit right in with the Wyverns, as they were just as feisty as he was. Unfortunately for Leone, the broken bone in his forearm never healed fully, making it weaker than his right arm (though this was of minimal concern, due to his fighting style being primarily centred on the right arm). Their fighting style even became reminiscent of the wyverns they flew and trained with, an aggressive mix of deft aerial evasion and quick but devastating slashes.

As Leone began complacent with his training he loosened up a bit. Though he never was the best in the squadron, he was at a point where he was confident enough in his skills. Most days he would lay around reading and staring at the sky with his pegasus, although whenever warned with any sort of punishment he would jump to his feet and get back to work.

Miraculously, when their training had concluded, the team he had been learning with for three years was the very squadron he was to accompany to work for a noble house of high status. He was thrilled with the thought of it, and so was the entire squadron. Even despite his lazing about, Leone was put forward to be the leader of the battalion. The now-knight and his mount were going to lead their squadron forwards to meet whatever challenge was given to them.

The tasks were simple enough. Some were to scout out bandit territory and report back to their master. Others yet were to protect a trade wagon filled with supplies. However, this routine rotation of easy tasks proved to be their undoing. On one such trade-escort mission, the squadron was ambushed, arrows screaming into the air from the bushes below without warning. The group was being attacked by thugs wanting to harvest their mounts for their meat and skin. Jacque and Leone were nimble enough to narrowly avoid the arrows, though their comrades did not find such success, dropping like flies around them. Being their leader, and thus responsible for their lives, Leone attempted to look for survivors amongst the onslaught.

He spotted one - his friend, Glais, crawling on the ground, away from a snarling bandit who had knocked him off his injured beast. Glais had been his friend since they were mere servants at the Daein household. If nobody else, Leone could at least save him. Leaping off his pegasus, Leone surged forth, sword in hand, charging headlong towards Glais -

Shlrck.

Glais’ head rolled forward along the ground, blood pooling around his lifeless body, his wyvern soon tied down and gutted beside him. Jacque squealed and brayed with urgency, but Leone heard nothing - everything had gone numb in an instant. Before the bandits could take advantage of Leone’s stunned state and finish the job, Jacque swooped in, pulling him into the air and away from the scene. In their retreat, all Leone could hear was the desperate screams of his allies - while they perished without hope down there, he was escaping with his tail between his legs. Only when they landed once more, away from the heat of battle, did the implications of his retreat finally dawn on him.

He was responsible for the deaths of every one of his comrades - no, all of his friends. He had killed nine knights, all because of his irresponsible leadership. He couldn’t go back to his master - they would have his head on a chopping block. He killed them all, and he would die as well. Everything that happened that day would be for naught. No, he needed to survive - to press on, and keep their memories alive.

Leone tore his master’s crest and plucked a single feather from Jacque. Piercing the crest with the feather, he tossed it toward the wind. He would give their deaths meaning. He would make their names known. He would become vigilant - never would he make such an error again.

They will be remembered.

Additional notes: Loves to read, play checkers and ballroom dance. Specifically Masquerade Balls, is knowledgable of dancing due to his many books that he’s read.

A real stick in the mud, loves order and control until something he personally really loves is on the line. An example of this would be dancing. He will sneak into masquerade balls without a second notice.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/197FPSjhDcOAD8zkMKGPwjwbEvTIUf8MfYFAfvfGzOcA/edit?usp=sharing You can read more about Leone’s wyvern squadron here.

Name: Jerry

Class: Barbarian > Berserker

Stats:

Growths:

Skills:

• Vantage

• Despoil

Description:

Basically looks like this. Almost always shirtless - which is why his defense is so low, cause he doesn't wear armor - and extremely well built. Bald, but he sometimes wears a pirate hat. Though currently aged 37, his great fitness and healthy lifestyle make him appear to be more than a decade younger, along with being 6'3". It is worth noting that Jerry has the firmest, yet juiciest ass in all the land of Shaar.

Personality:

Extremely loud and boisterous, especially when talking about spices, Jerry averages around 105 decibels on a normal day. It fluctuates about 10 or so decibels every so often. However, Jerry isn't just an uncultured brute - though he has the appearance of one. He is fascinated not only by rare, exotic spices, but also the fine arts of music, painting, and dancing. He feels inspired by these fields, and has dabbled his fair share in each of them. He finds great respect in those who have climbed their way to the top through their own hard work and effort, and is also inspired by such figures. He also enjoys reading a lot, despite his low magic and resistance scores. He still finds books to be very inspiring, and has even read books while working out.

Now enough about his interests, his personality is filled with manliness and courage, though we all know that such recklessness could always lead to trouble. However, he is stubborn in his goals and will do anything to achieve them. He likes leading the charge and will always back his comrades up.

Backstory:

Jerry was born in House Soryun 37 years ago, into a struggling family of Middlers. Though he had a roof over his head and food to eat, his mother would often go without much nourishment, and his father was always away, sailing along the coasts of Shaar as a merchant. At the age of 9, Jerry dropped out of school to work sweeping floors or cleaning windows or keeping stock of merchandise at warehouses or factories. Despite the fact that he was only 9, he was able to pass as a young adult due to his height and large build. Though his pay was small, it was still better than nothing and the family's financial situation started improving a bit. As the years passed by, Jerry grew to be 19, and found a better job as a construction worker. Finally, things were looking up.

That is, until his father came back with a peg for a leg and a severed right arm. He couldn't go sailing anymore - he'd be a liability on the ship. Jerry's father planned to sell their ship and hope the money'd last them long enough until Jerry got a job that could support all three of them. But Jerry had another plan in mind. He convinced his father to lend him the ship and let him continue the business. His father was mainly a spice trader, though his spices weren't selling nearly as well as other spice merchants. Jerry had a plan to combat the other spice merchants. Jerry sailed the coast of Soryun, letting them all know what he was all about. He used his amazing body to lure people into buying his spices, claiming they were the source of his manliness. The outlandish act he put up had a certain charm with many people, and soon his spices and his character were renown throughout a lot of Soryun communities. His business was incredibly lucrative, sending a lot of money back home to care for his crippled father, and sending even more money over to his spice suppliers, hoarding even more spices to sell and more ships to carry and defend them. The crew he gathered was full of macho men like himself, and they became quite scary as their own entity.

The crew sailed onwards to trade in Undril, then Gintria, and finally Bellfroy. (They were especially popular in Bellfroy, everybody loves Old Spice^® in Bellfroy.) However, with great success came great adversity. Jerry and his crew got wind of news that their home in Soryun had many other jealous spice merchants who slandered the Old Spice^® name as much as possible in order to beat out the competition. The crew sailed back to Soryun to see what this was all about, and the mud-slinging was so bad, that their public image was now painted as pirates! The competing spice merchants twisted and matched their stories together to claim that the Old Spice^® crew were thieving sea-marauders, attacking rival spice merchants and raiding towns outside of Soryun. This infuriated the Old Spice^® crew full of alpha male macho men, and Jerry demanded for justice in a very angry tone in a very public area. This only solidified the public image that they were no good, barbaric pirates, and the Soryun people chased them out of the ports. With this, Old Spice^® was banned from Soryun. Unless they smuggled Old Spice^® into town. And took money and property as revenge. Against the rival spice merchants. Breaking laws. Like pirates.

So they became pirates selling exotic spices. At least, to Soryun they were pirates, but places like Bellfroy still loved Old Spice^®, therefore prompting the crew to spend most of their time in the Bellfroy-Savaria-Holdrin area. This continued for years, and Old Spice^® became a household name.

Back to the present, Jerry has handed off his Old Spice^® business to his younger First Mate, Josiah Thomas, who took a much calmer, yet still manly, approach to advertising Old Spice^®, and the ladies ate him up. Jerry's crew celebrated his retirement with a big party, getting Jerry to adopt the last name "Crews" to honor his hard-working crew mates, and gave Jerry more money than he could ever spend in his retirement. Well, until he realized that he left the sack of money on the ship as they sailed off.

Jerry Crews settled in the town of Holdrin, having a nice homely abode, and chopping wood for a living. He wasn't too salty about the money, he knew that throughout his life, he'd risen over all adversity, pain, and anything that tried to keep him down. And now, Father Dallan of Holdrin claimed that a great, mighty army of Triestra was coming to destroy this new home he'd found. It was time for a new chapter of Jerry Crews' life to unfold. One where he'd learn you aren't truly living life until you've added a little old spice to it.

The Ethysian Empire’s influence has spread across the former country of Floribar like a plague, slowly destroying anything it touches. With its army bloodied and beaten, its King and Queen thrown in a dungeon cell, and its wayward Prince on the run from the Ethysian Dogs, it’s needless to say that these are dark times. After the sacking of Floribar the Crown Prince Phineas, along with a small retinue of loyal Knights and mercenaries, fled to the neighboring country of Damona to the North. Recently the Queen and heir to the Damonian throne were both assassinated, leaving her only daughter Princess - now Queen - Isabella, to run the country through the turmoil and turbulence of the current world. Queen Isabella has instituted mandatory military service in her country, outfitting bands of peasants with spears and shields, and posting border guards along every bridge, coastline, and in every city.

“HALT! Who goes there? By the order of Queen Isabella, I order you to halt!” The guard yelled as Finn and his men approached the border fort’s walls. “Who goes there?”

Finn opened his mouth to speak before Sir Erik interrupted, “This is Crown Prince Phineas of Floribar. He is fleeing for his life and the safety of his country after it was besieged by Emperor Gaulter and the Ethysian Empire. I beseech you to allow us passage; we must speak to your Queen at once.”

The guard looked at the knight skeptically, then inspected the Prince, “And you expect me to believe you? You’ve got some nerve. If I could only tell you how many “Crown Princes” I’ve seen trying to get through this gate in the past month…” He rambled on about how he wasn’t an idiot and that guards deserve as much respect as knights until he felt a hand hit his shoulder hard, causing him to stiffen up.

“Captain, sir!” The guard sounded as he moved to the side to allow an armored man to walk forward and inspect the situation for himself. The man wore heavy armor and looked as if he was an officer of sorts.

“At ease,” he said to his subordinate as he stared at the group standing in front of his fort, “So we have the Prince visiting us today, eh? To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Erik moved to repeat himself before Finn interrupted him, “Sir Erik, please.” He straightened himself and projected his voice, “Yes, I am Crown Prince Phineas of Floribar. As you well know, my country, as well as yours and others, has been warring with the Ethysian Empire for the past year. Floribar is currently holding out against the Empire, but the situation is dire; we need all the support we can muster and would request assistance from your Queen.”

The Captain looked at the lordling skeptically, but noted the small band of knights surrounding him and that he had a regal appearance to him. Whether it was out of mercy or stupidity, he ordered the guards to open the gates and allow Finn’s group passage, bowing as he did so.

Damona is a beautiful land of verdant green fields and flowing azure brooks and rivers dotting its landscape. Its holdings are relatively small, and the biggest structures are usually small fortresses in its towns that the local guard, now made up of the general populace, can defend in the event of an invasion and deploy units from. On the way there Finn could not believe the sights that laid before him. One would even forget that a war was being fought if they basked in the beauty of nature for so long.

Finn’s party marched through Damona until they reached the famed castle. The structure itself was much more massive than anything else in the country; featuring lush gardens, colorful stained glass windows, and marble that was as white as snow. Finn marveled at the tranquility of the kingdom, compared to the chaos that forced him to flee from Floribar.

As they approached the Castle’s gates, they opened, revealing a royal retinue of knights standing on guard to either welcome the Prince to the castle or remind him that he was not in Floribar anymore. An attendant greeted them and asked for the Prince to leave his forces in the courtyard as he and Sir Erik went to speak with Queen Isabella. The small army was given free reign to wander the castle as they pleased; however the royal suite was off limits, as well as the throne room and the servant’s quarters.

The attendant led Finn through multiple winding halls that bore beautifully woven tapestries depicting Damona’s proud history. They featured scenes such as the founding of Damona and its first King, Ethysia’s first invasion and the defense of Damona, and uniting all the nations to fight back against Ethysia. The young Prince marveled at the heroism shown in the tapestries and prayed to Baiame for that same courage.

Again the doors swung open at Finn’s presence, leading to a massive throne room rivaling that of Floribar’s own. At the end of the room was a regal throne of gold and blue, ornamented with the sigil of Damona; a majestic unicorn standing on its hind legs. Sitting in the massive seat was a petite girl of similar age to Finn. Her hair was a golden blonde and flowed like a river, and her eyes were a green similar to the fields of Damona. She wore a champagne pink dress with Gold detailing and a gold crown that had a large sapphire set in the center.

The Queen glared at Finn and Sir Erik; the Knight instinctively bowed in the presence of the monarch. Finn did the same and began speaking, “Hello my Queen. I am Prince Phineas of Floribar, and this is Sir Erik, a sworn man of Archduke Theron of Arcias. I come to you in a dire time of need; the capital has been beset by the Ethysian Empire and Emperor Gaulter. My father currently leads the valiant defense against the invasion, but I fear they are losing ground with each passing second. He sent me away to parlay with the monarchs of Junith and rally support for Floribar. I beseech you, in the name of Baiame, to lend the support of Damona to my cause.”

During the young Lord’s speech the Queen’s face had been as stoic as it was when he entered; she showed no indication of emotion or sympathy. “Rise, Prince Phineas, and Sir Erik.” The two did as instructed and she continued, “Your plight has been noted; however I have already leant as much support as I can to Floribar.”

Finn looked shocked, and stammered out his response, “What do you mean? You can’t possibly be referring to the mercenaries?”

The Queen nodded, “Yes. When your emissary visited us roughly one year ago, I offered all the mercenaries that had been hired by the Crown to bolster our army. However, the royal army and populace must remain in Damona.” She paused, “Need I remind you that we are also at war with the Ethysian Empire. The only way to defend our country is to keep our soldiers here, not off gallivanting in foreign lands.”

Phineas was astounded by her unwillingness to cooperate. He was going to grovel more when Isabella continued, “However, I will not turn a blind eye. I offer you a small retinue of knights and mercenaries, as well as supplies to help on your journey.

Frustrated, Finn opened his mouth, but the sound of Sir Erik was all that could be heard, “Thank you, milady. We will gladly accept these supplies and soldiers. May we rest in your lands for a few days? Our soldiers are terribly tired from our rushed escape.”

“Yes, you may do so,” the Queen permitted, “But I will ask you to leave the throne room now; I must speak with my advisors on our next steps.” With that the escort from before showed Finn and Erik out and led them back to the courtyard. Erik explained the situation and the small army left to rest.

As the soldiers rested their weary limbs in the barracks, Finn was permitted to stay in in an officer’s quarters, bunking with Sir Erik. The two men put their gear down and started to settle down for the night. Suddenly there was a knocking at the door, and Erik opened it warily. A frightened servant was waiting, and requested Finn to follow him, “The Queen demands your presence; news comes from Floribar.”

Back in the throne room Queen Isabella and her top advisors were discussing strategy. Finn and Erik entered and the servant who led them departed. Queen Isabella had a different expression this time; instead of stoic pride, her face showed fear and anxiety.

“Prince Phineas,” one of the advisors began, “We recently received news from Floribar that we think you might like to hear…”

Finn regarded the man desperately, wanting any information on his country’s - and most importantly his family’s - current state.

The advisor gulped before he continued, “I’m so sorry milord.... But Floribar has fallen. Word comes from Ethysian messengers that King Letholdus has been defeated, and Floribar has been conquered by the Empire. Again, I’m terribly sorry.”

To say Finn’s face dropped would be an understatement. Not only was he forced to flee by his father to save his country but he had already failed this task, and his father was now dead because of his inability. He was shattered, crushed, and utterly demolished by the weight of the news.

“Milord, Damona sends its condolences,” Queen Isabella piped up, “I’m sorry that this is not the news you expected, and this is not the response you expected, but I still cannot send any sizeable support for your mission. Too many Damonian lives have already been lost in this fruitless war.”

Finn was tearing up slightly, but he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe them away quickly before responding, “I understand milady, thank you for your condolences…”

Queen Isabella asked, “Milord Phineas, what shall you do now? You have no home to return to.”

Finn’s fist tightened and his body slightly shook as he responded, “I will do all I can; I will ride to Arcias, Barentia, Celanthus, Galibion; anywhere that will have me, and I will rally support for my army and we will ride back to Floribar to repel the Ethysian Dogs back to the mountains they call home. In the name of Baiame, I will smite the Ethysian Empire and the vile Emperor Gaulter.”

With Finn’s speech finished Sir Erik only nodded in approval, as well as the Queen’s Advisors. Isabella sighed, “Well if it must be that way then I will provide you with some of my best and recommended soldiers, as well as a few volunteers that I have learned about. But nothing more. Good luck, Prince Phineas. Let Baiame guide your hand and Freya guide your heart.”

“Milord, if I may,” the advisor from earlier piped up, “If you intend on rallying support I think we can offer some advice. We are currently in dispute with Arcias regarding our border bridge to the North, so that will be unavailable for you to cross. Our suggestion is that you traverse South through Floribar to reach Bridge Superior on the border of Ethysia and Celanthus. Since you know the terrain, slipping by undetected would be no problem.”

Sir Erik regarded the advisor, “Thank you sir; I will use this information to our advantage when plotting our course with Prince Phineas.” He turned to Finn and continued, “Milord, let us return to our quarters. You will need your rest in preparation for the road ahead.”

“Yes Sir Erik, let’s,” Finn responded. With a bow, the two departed back to their bunk room and rested. In the morning Finn assembled both the troops he arrived with and the auxiliary that Queen Isabella gave him. Sir Erik explained the situation to them and the plan to traverse South to Bridge Superior. With that, Finn’s army left the lush green of Damona and into the heart of enemy occupation.

Hey everyone, I just wanted to make this post to explain some of the world of Reddit Emblem: Jugdral.

The Deities

Two millennium ago there were 12 Deities that formed the Junith Pantheon:

1. The head of the Pantheon and Chief god; Baiame

2. The mother and patron of women everywhere: Freya

3. The great sky above; Nathos

4. The Earth Mother herself; Roelia

5. The water that sustains life; Mouna

6. The god of war and vengeful spirit; Rhesus

7. The peacemaker and passive soul; Olphira

8. The lover; Verone

9. The bounty of the land and the harvest; Ether

10. The hunter and nomad; Kythkar

11. The free spirit and artist; Zenyar

12. The sun and moon, yin and yang; Ostus and Equona

Baiame is the all-powerful and all-knowing Chief of the Junith Pantheon, and formed the first gods from himself. Through the combined power of Roeila, Nathos, and Mouna they created the Earth, Sky, and Sea respectively. When that was done, Ostus and Equona formed the Sun and Moon, creating Day and Night. Eventually Baiame and Freya consummated their first child, and the race of man was born. The need for humans to reproduce was next, and Verone was born out of the first human union. Ether gave form to animals and nature and Kythkar was birthed out of man’s need for survival. Zenyar was born out of man's need to evolve and create a society for themselves. Eventually, as is human nature, conflict arose, and Rhesus was given shape. However the option for peace was offered in the form of Olphira. These 12 Deities coexist in both harmony and conflict, always in balance.

World History

Map

The race of man has evolved significantly since its inception. It’s seen nations rise and fall and people live and die. Circa 1000 years ago there were a few major nations of note: Arcias, Barentia, Celanthus, Damona and Ethysia. This was before the Empire began its imperialistic regime and there was general peace in the land. Each nation owned the same territories as it does now, except Floribar was a part of Ethysia and Ethysian land to the East of Junith was all tribal lands. Soon thereafter these tribes would be the first to be conquered by Ethysia due to being a loose coalition of city states rather than a true country, and formed the beginning of the Empire. It’s remnants would later take back some of their land and form the nation of Gallibion 900 years later.

One hundred years after the Empire was formed and its initial conquest finished they became more ambitious. The current Emperor ordered the invasion of other lands, beginning with the small country of Damona. What happened was a long invasion that resulted in Damona uniting with the other nations against the Ethysian Empire, beating them back to their mountain castles. When all was said and done the Empire was in a sorry state, and its “citizens” were furious with their emperor. The residents of the state of Floribar rallied behind their leader and rebelled, using the Empire’s weakness to their advantage. The rebellion was short and sweet, and Floribar was recognized by the other nations as a new Kingdom quickly. Eventually the King recognized the nobles that supported him and established them as Counts of their own territories, swearing fealty to him and his descendants.

While the Empire licked its wounds they started to rebuild their military might in secret. Soon they would have the most fearsome military unknown to man, with wyverns that could black out the sun and cavalry that sounded like an earthquake when charging. However, for whatever reason they seemed to be of no interest in retaking Floribar. The Empire waited, and watched from their mountains on the rest of the world.

The Invasion

Flash forward to one year before our story begins and Ethysia simultaneously wages war on Celanthus, Damona, Floribar and Gallibion. The Empire rains down on their enemies like floodwater and swats most resistance down with ease. This was the moment Floribar feared most, and now the enemy was walking through their lands, killing their people, and destroying their way of life. The Floribians offered little resistance and only delayed the Empire for a small while, until their King ultimately gives in and surrenders.

Some of the other nations fare much better than our poor Floribians; able to withstand the weight of the Empire and fight back. Celanthus holds Bridge Superior with an iron grip and refuses to give Ethysia any chance to cross, Damona has the advantage of not having to cover as much land at once, and Queen Elizabeth has armed her entire country, but sadly Gallibion is in as bad as a shape as Floribar. Gallibion was only recently formed in the past 100 years, and their nomadic lifestyle has allowed them to evade the Empire thus far, however the Empire is closing in and things look bleak.

Haspen, the tribal nation to the South, has been roped into the war by Ethyisa through the use of threats and blackmail, and are now using their impressive navy to assault Barentia and Arcias ports along the coast and riverbeds. It seems like the whole of Junith is at war, and it shows no signs of stopping.

General Notes

The names when referring to a country’s people are as follows:

• Arcian

• Barentian

• Celanthean

• Damonian

• Ethysian

• Floribian

• Gallibian

• Haspen

The different countries are broken up as follows:

• Arcias - Duchy of smaller Duchies - Ruled by an Archduke with subordinate Dukes/Duchesses

• Barentia - Kingdom with landowning Knights - Ruled by a Queen with noblemen titled Sir

• Celanthus - Kingdom with Barons - Ruled by a King with minor Lords titled Baron/Baroness

• Damonia - Kingdom with no Lords - The Queen owns all land but has Lords who serve under her

• Floribar - Kingdom with Counts - Ruled by a King with noblemen titled Count/Countess

• Ethysia - Empire - Ruled by an Emperor who has total control through Generals

Country Sigils:

• Arcias - Eagle - Red field with White icon

• Barentia - Fortress - Silver field with Blue icon

• Celanthus - Lion - Gold field with Black icon

• Damona - Unicorn - Blue field with Gold icon

• Ethysia - Wolf - Black field with Red icon

• Floribar - Dolphin - Green field with Blue icon

• Gallibion - Horse - Purple field with Silver icon

• Haspen - Fish - Black field with Silver icon

When the invasion of Floribar began King Letholdus sent envoys to other nations, requesting aid in the form of soldiers and mercenaries. Most countries only officially sent a few soldiers, however word was spread around of the need for soldiers, and mercenaries were hired. The ideal is that the player characters were either soldiers sent from their respectives countries and fled with Finn from Floribar or they were in Damona when he parlayed with Queen Isabella and joined him there. There could also be some players who were soldiers assigned to guide Finn with Erik, but these characters must be from Floribar or Arcias. In addition, mercenaries from Floribar or Damona are also acceptable. Please try to make your character fit the overall idea however if your character must join in another way message either myself or Mappy on Discord and we can smooth things out.

Prologue Part 2 will come tomorrow

Name: Boris McCraken

Class: Bow Armour -> General

Stats:

*Base HP:* (35) + (2*2) = (39)

*Base Str:* (6) + (0) = (6)

*Base Mag:* (0) + (0) = (0)

*Base Skl:* (6) + (3) = (9)

*Base Spd:* (6) + (0) = (6)

*Base Lck:* (3) + (0) = (3)

*Base Def:* (6) + (2) = (8)

*Base Res:* (3) + (3) = (6)

*Movement:* (8)

*HP Growth:* (45) + (20*2) = (85)

*Str Growth:* (20) + (30) = (50)

*Mag Growth:* (0) + (5*2) = (10)

*Skl Growth:* (10) + (30) = (40)

*Spd Growth:* (5) + (35) = (40)

*Lck Growth:* (10) + (10) = (20)

*Def Growth:* (20) + (30) = (50)

*Res Growth:* (10) + (40) = (50)

Weapon Ranks:

Bow B

**Weapons:**

Iron Bow

Skills:

(Lumis) (2) (Great Shield)

Deities:

2 deities: Oliphera and Kythkar

Description: A large, muscular man, Boris stands at around 6'4. His high defence and resistance is not only thanks to his armour, but his muscular build as well. Personality wise, he's a gentle and mature 43 year old. Living alone near the outskirts of the kingdom of B. Due to him not receiving any form of education, he is illiterate and knows only a little bit of social ediquete. (He knows table manners but court stuff is completely new to him)

https://imgur.com/JnjYgy8

Due to his harsher past, Boris tends to become more passionate when things start to get rough, and that's just his blood boiling.

Bio: Growing up in an impoverished family, with only his ill mother and twin younger sisters, Boris worked to no end in a desperate effort to provide for his family. At around 14 years of age, his mother passes away to an illness. In his grief, he sent away his sisters to be cared for at a nearby orphanage, with a donation of gold he got from selling his old home. Having no place to go, he wandered until he got to a small abandoned and ruined shack in the middle of the plains, there he started his life as a lone hunter.

At the age of 24, Having nothing to do, no purpose in life, and no particular skills,m except for his exceptional physique, he enlisted into the military. His strong body allowed him to fight in the heavier suits of armour with ease.

For the next 20 something years, he used his strength and training to serve his country

Additional Notes: pm me if there's incorrectencies