[M] Tales of Gæa OOC - Fantasy

[vietmyke]

Tales of Gæa
Rated M for Violence, blood, and the use of drugs and alcohol

IC thread: https://role-player.net/forum/showthr...72#post1993372

Gæa, a land of wonder and magic, filled with all sorts of fantastical creatures and peoples, some peaceful, others violent. The continent of Lucenrai serves as the focal point of the world, as it is the largest landmass, and only known continent in the world, flanked by several smaller islands and landmasses. The heart of the continent consists of an expanse of plains and grassland. To the north are an expanse of mountains and tundra, while the west is lightly wooded and covered with rivers. Down to the south, the land gets considerably wetter, and has large stretches of thick forests, and marshy wetlands. Towards the east, the plains become a savanna, which then become a large, harsh desert. It is rumored a single large mountain can be found deep in the desert, surrounded by a wide oasis that is the birthplace of life.

Races:

Hume:
Hume, or human, this race is the most common race of the world. These honest, hardworking people are most commonly seen as peasants and farmers, or other physical labor jobs. A typically simple minded, traditional, and down to earth race, humes are rarely seen in politics, and are often seen in subservient roles. Humes are typically anywhere from 5'5" to 6', and have various hair colors of typically darker hues, common colors are brown, black, dark green, and occasionally blonde and red. Humes are often stereotyped as honest, and naive, by other races, and live for about 90 years.

Varyan:
Elitist and proud, at one point in history, Varyans controlled most of the known world. Even though their empire is a ghost of what it once was, Varyan's still have massive political pull when compared to the other races. Clever and arrogant, Varyans are nevertheless incredible craftsmen and talented merchants and businessmen. Usually taller than most Humes, and with definitive pointed ears, Varyans are particularly vain and often value personal beauty. Varyans are typically stereotyped as arrogant and vain by the other races, and can live up to 200 years. Despite their longer lifespans, Varyans mature at the same rate humes do.

Gaian
A collection of different races, Gaian is the overarching term for the beastmen, or otherwise civilized beasts and monsters in Gæa. Gaians are usually referred to by their most prominent animal features, a mouse Gaian would be called a Mousebeast, whereas a badger Gaian would be called a Badgerbeast. Only in recent centuries have Gaians been considered a part of civilized society, originally being the world's equivalent of goblins and other such community driven savages. Highly societal, Gaians are often viewed by other races as barbaric and closed minded, with varying lifespans; smaller Gaian species typical live around 70 years, while larger ones can live for upwards of hundreds.

K'tareen
An old ad ancient race, K'tareens have existed since the beginning of the world. A very magically inclined race, K'tareens have almost vanished from the known world. This mysterious race has left hundreds of ruins behind in their wake, and K'tareen magical artifacts are often the most common source of magic in the world, used to amplify the other races lesser powers. Tall and fair skinned, K'tareens have light colored hair, silver, white, and light blues, and their faces are usually covered, by veils, helmets, or masks. An extremely mysterious race, very little is known about this race, and they can live for millenia.

Plot
Here in the city of Meduzart, a prominent city in the west, the wheels of fate have begun to turn. Commonly called the Adventurer's Hangout, the city of Meduzart is well known as the home to many groups of mercenaries, errand runners, explorers, mages, and mechanics, often organized into bands or guilds. When people need something done, they usually come to a 'Guild Tavern' to find 'resources', to get it done, provided they have the coin.

Several days ago, a large comet was seen flying across the sky, many believe it to have landed in the midwest, between the Western cities, and the old heart of the Varyan empire in the central heartlands. Ever since the comet hit, people have noticed a considerable increase in the strength of magical powers, as well as the presence of said magic. Rumors have spread about a wealthy Varyan funding an expedition to the comet to discover its secrets. But little does he know, something much bigger is at hand.

And this is where our adventure will begin! We will be playing the role as novice adventurers (or at least most of us will be) exploring the crash site of a mystical comet. Little do we know, this comet is part of something much bigger than we could ever imagine. Our heroes will face Drama, as well as Generic Plot Twists, Unconventional Plot Twists and Action as they journey on an Adventure!

Rules
1. This Roleplay will have above average standards, I will be expecting at least a few, well written paragraphs, and absolutely NO ONE LINERS.
2. I write in 3rd person past tense, and I expect you to write in that manner too.
3. No Mary/Gary Sues. Your characters are heroes, but they are not perfect.
4. No God-Moding. Your characters are important, but I will not hesitate to injure them if they do something exceedingly stupid.
5. This RP is rated M. Violence, and foul language is freely allowed, for the sake of decency, any sexual acts will fade to black (or will be taken to PM) before it goes too far.
6. Player knowledge is not character knowledge. Just because you know something (be it through OOC or another person's post, does not mean that your character knows.
7. As GM, my word is law. This does not mean I will be unreasonable, nor will it mean I will be unfair, but I will expect you to respect my executive decisions. (This is provided I actually decide to make executive decisions).
8. Any individual that I acknowledge as Co-GM, Standing GM, or any other position of authority, will be essentially an extension of myself. As such, the word of Co-GMs is also law.

Character Sheets
It is important to note that I will only be accepting a small number of players, likely 5-6 at most. The reason for this is because I believe in quality over quantity, and I lack the time and skill to manage more than a small number of writers at one time. If you intend on creating a character, please make sure he/she is well fleshed out and developed. Again, quality characters are always preferred, and hopefully, if you've spent a good amount of time working on a character, you'd be less likely to up and leave.

Appearance: Your character's appearance. Preferably digital art as opposed to IRL images
Name: Your character's name and or any nicknames and aliases
Age: Your character's age
Race: Your character's race. If a Gaian, include a short description as well

Personality: Arguably the most important portion of the CS, make sure to give me a good impression of what your character is like.
Background: Important, but not as important as your character's personality, give me a small summary of your character's history and bio.

Skills: here is where you put things your character can do/are good at, as well as what magic abilities they have (if any). Note that magic is not as prevalent in the non k'tareen races, and will be very difficult and volatile (though quite potent nonetheless)

Gear: Here is where you'll give me a list of your character's equipment. Weapons, armors, tools, magical artifacts and the like will go here. Don't go too overboard, as I will be checking everything to make sure you're not overpowering your character.

---

Cast:

Spoiler: Vietmyke as Faulke Errant 

Name: Faulke Errant
Age: 30
Race: Gaian - Mousebeast
Mousebeasts are among one of the more common Gaian races. Short and stocky, these little Gaians typically don't stand any taller than 4 feet. With an average lifespan of 70 years, these little beasts are a common site, many serving as adventurers, soldiers, and field workers. Not particularly strong nor weak, these little Gaians are often quite versatile and clever. Faulke appears to be a field mouse Gaian.

Personality:
Gruff and blunt, Faulke has an efficient, no-nonsense attitude, and has a bite to match his bark. Stubborn but level headed and quite confident, Faulke doesn't like rushing into action and takes a deliberate approach to his problems. Faulke strives to maintain awareness of his own abilities as well as that of those around him, and takes the information into consideration before making rash decisions. As a result, Faulke has adopted a very analytic attitude and can be intuitive in regards to people. Loyal, but prideful, Faulke maintains the reputation of being both a responsible and dependable individual. He values hard work and competency but can be closed minded and traditional, often being regared as rigid and overly detail-oriented. He appears to have a fondness of cheese that is stronger than others...

Background:
Born the oldest of 8, to a pair of simple field micebeasts, Faulke lived a hard, but normal childhood. Put to work on the fields at a young age, Faulke became accustomed to manual labor from a young age on a small farm nearby a small Gaian village. As a child, Faulke and his siblings grew up on stories of adventure and valor from their father as he told them about his younger years. Always seen as the strongest and most dependable of his siblings, Faulke was well respected by his siblings, as well as the people from the nearby town in the central plains of Lucenrai.

When Faulke turned 18, he inherited the land from his father, as the aging mousebeast got too old to work the farm. Life on the farm stayed the same for a while. However, tragedy struck when a band of impoverished Varyan nobles came upon the small village and farm. This was a rather common sight, as the loss of the majority of the Varyan empire left hundreds, if not thousands of minor Varyan nobles without land. Usually they passed through places, throwing about what money they had left, before going to war with another noble with hopes of taking what little land was left.

The impoverished Varyan nobles decided that the land the Gaians were currently living on was now once again a part of the Varyan Empire, and began demanding for taxes from the townspeople. Upon being rejected by the townsfolk, the Varyans decided to attack and raze the town. Caught surprised and unaware, only the three oldest children of the Errant family was able to escape the burning village and farms.

Fleeing westward towards the independent cities of the west, Faulke, his younger brother, and their younger sister managed to find a place for themselves in Meduzart city. In their youth, the Errant siblings decided to establish themselves as adventurers. Faulke and his brother Musky both showed surprising potential for the arts of combat and warfare, and their sister Fran had an aptitude for obtaining information.

Over the course of the next dozen years, the Errant siblings established themselves as talented and skilled adventurers, serving as mercenaries, guards, and spies over the course of their career. The Errant siblings now work separate of each other, though still keeping in close contact with one another. Fran, an intuitive mousebeast runs an underground information network, while Faulke's younger brother Musky has established a caravan guard company. Faulke remains an independent contractor, taking on various jobs that require his set of skills.

Skills:
Faulke is a grizzled veteran, competent with most weapons, be it spears, bows, or axes, though his area of expertise remains the sword, where his experience and technique seem to shine. An analyst and a tactician, Faulke understands the importance of discretion and can easily analyze the potential and talent in others. He also has access to his sister's information network, as well as his brother's guard company.

Gear:
While Faulke rarely attaches himself to pieces of equipment, but nonetheless holds onto various memorabilia and weapons from missions past. He is usually seen with an old red cloak, reminiscent of his father's old cloak, which hangs on the wall of his home, and commonly wields a broadsword.

Spoiler: Zhaliora as Molven 

Age: 40
Race: Dark Varyan


Appearance: Molven is 5'10" and weighs 155lbs. She has purplish-redish eyes, silver to borderline white hair with a leather hairband, forming a tail, and long pointed ears. She has a quite fair complexion, looking younger than what her years would tell. Her nose is a bit smallish and pointy at the end, her mouth thin but with full lips. She has a hourglass body type with a big bosom and rump and somewhat wide hips. She is thin, but not skinny, keeping a healthy body. Her skin is dark and silken smooth to the touch, almost unnaturally so.

Armour and clothing: She wears next to nothing, even with her armour and clothes, she shows off quite a bit. Her armour is encrusted with purple emeralds and lined with gold, silver and polished steel. It is made out of darksteel, a quite sturdy material, very similar to steel and of which only a very limited supply exists in the world. The origin of Molven's armour is a mystery, all she knows it that it was in the shrine she found under her village, along with the ornate spidersilk clothing she wears, which is as strong as leather. The only thing keeping her armour and her clothes together are strings made out of spidersilk.

Spoiler: Weapons 

Two ornate short swords lined with gold. They have runes etched into the side of the blades along with more purple emeralds just over the hilt and on the hand guard. They are quite sinister looking, and so are the poisons that Molven enhance them with. She also found these in the shrine.

Skills: Molven is quite proficient in poisons, using them to great effect together with her weapons. She is a trained assassin, proficient in short swords and throwing knives along with daggers. She has dormant magical powers that she does not know anything about. Part from agility and a frenzied fighting style, she does not have any other skills, born and bred to fight and kill.

Personality: Cheerful and always smiling, Molven loves the be in the centre of attention. She has a pulling and somewhat seductive charisma and she likes to flirt around with both guys and girls. She is the typical party girl, or so it would seem. If you look deeply into her eyes, there is a far darker nature hidden inside of her.

Spoiler: Background spoilerish 

Born in a smaller village at the fringes of the empire, Molven's life was always ruled by dogma and dicipline. Up early in the morning. Do your morning exercises. Breakfast. Combat training. Sermon dedicated to the divine. Dinner. Mental training. A short prayer. A all around pass to train everything. Supper. Bathtime, and then a few hours of free time until it was time for sleep.

Day in, day out, year after year, this was Molven's life. Part from the few times when she was "sold" for a mission. Sold, as in hired for a mission, be it assassination, as a fighter or as muscle for some merchant. It did not matter to Molven, as long as someone died, it did not matter. As long as someone died, her diety would be happy. They were a cult of slayers, killers of the best kind. Assassins, cutthroats, murderers. That was what they were. They never slew one of their own though. If you were not fit for duty, there was always other things to do, like farming.

Molven however, was one of those that served the god, a god of war and murder. The cauldron had to be filled, filled with blood, the blood of the slain. Every month, it had to be filled, and every month it was filled. The cauldron was a strange artifact. Everyone had given up some of their blood to the cauldron at a young age, and the cauldron remembered. It remembered those whom had given blood, and every time they shed blood, the cauldron was filled up with the blood of the slain.

The cauldron also held a promise. As long as it was filled up each month, those whom gave blood would have eternal beauty. Their looks would always be preserved after reaching maturity, and even enhanced.

All of this changed one day. It had started just like any other day. Molven was doing her combat exercies when a comet roared past. She looked up and saw it pass. She thought nothing more of it until there was a massive impact. an impact that shook the world. Her world turned red, blood red, and dark.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a pool of blood. She looked around for the source of the blood and found it to be her family's. Molven shrieked and rushed outside to find her family's killer, but all she found outside was death. Her entire village lay dead by the sword. They had slaughtered each other, not a single person was alive.

Her head throbbed and she saw flashbacks. Her swords had slain multiple people here, a bestial howl on her lips as she had done so, a mad laughter. The world returned and she stumbled towards the cauldron. It was overflowing with blood. She had another flashback. She had slain two Dark Varyan which were trying to kill a third one before Molven had slain the third as well.

The world returned once again and Molven's head spun and she fell. She fell down some steps into a chamber. A chamber she could had sworn did not exist before. She slowly stood up and looked around. Blood was pooling onto the floor, running down from the entrance. She found the chamber to be a shrine. There were murials everywhere. They dipicted the charniage that had happened on the surface, they depicted the comet and it's impact.

Molven had another flashback. A flashback of her slaughtering her family, her friends and her fiancé. It had only been a political engagement, so she couldn't care less there, but she had slain her own family. A laughter echoed in the shrine, it was Molven's. She walked to the centre of the chamber and found an armour and a set of two identical swords there. She read the words etched into the podium. "For the one that survives. For the chosen of the bloody handed god. For the last surviving slayer," Molven read aloud.

She looked around one final time. Everything that had happened this night had been depicted on the murials in the shrine. A voice suddenly spoke to her. She quickly looked around, the chamber was empty. "You," it said. "Molven, my chosen champion," it continued as Molven found the sound coming from a statue. "Don this armour and take the blades, because they are sacred artifacts of mine. Take them, and ride out into the world and find the comet that struck the ground. Obey my divine command, oh champion of mine."

Molven had so much to ask, but the voice remained quiet after it had issued it's command, no matter how much she tried to talk to it. She slowly went into action, stripping down and started donning the armour that was on the podium, her eyes crazed. After she had put on the armour, she grabbed the blades and attached them to the back of her armour in the sheath that were there.

With a crazed expression, all the memories from last night flooding back to her, she laughed as she acended the steps. As if guided by a divine hand, she acended the steps to the https://fc00.deviantart.net/fs14/f/20...by_spyders.jpg and walked into it, bathing her entire form and the armour and the swords in the blood of the vanquished before exiting the cauldron and left the village, in search for the holy comet.

Spoiler: TheBarbarian as Brandon of Kull 

Appearance:

Name: Brandon (Brand for short) of Kull also known as "Grey feather"
Age: 36
Race: Hume

Personality: Easygoing man who has adopted a "live and let live" approach to life. He enjoy taking things at their own pace and tends to live in the moment not thinking much of the future or the past for that matter. Although mostly quiet, he is very considerate, caring, and devoted to the people he lets close to him. Worships and deeply believes in the god of the hunt Aldris though he does not force his belief on to others. Very open minded having traveled a lot in his youth and seen many things. Takes a long time to anger but when he finally does his angers burn for a long time. Does not take hear brake well.

Background: Brand was born in a tiny backwater village near the forest of Kull. Hes father raised him alone as his mother had died in childbirth. As a hunters son Brand learned how to shoot a bow before he could even properly learn to talk. He was a natural sharpshooter and by the age of seven he was accompanying his father on his many hunting trips. It was a good life. When Brandon turned 16 he left to join the Empires army. He was such a skilled archer that he was recruited by the Imperial Hawks who were the elite snipers and sharpshooter of the army. With them Brandon got to travel around the Empire. This continued on for close to ten years different battles fought and waged for the glory of the empire. Finally however Brandon was asked something he could not agree to. He and his battalion were ordered to assassinate the local lords women and children to get him to agree to a treaty. Instead of doing what was asked of him Brand helped the lords family escape. Becoming a outlaw and deserter he started his own band of bandits called The Grey Arrows. His goal was to prevent any further attacks of this sort on civilians by the imperial army. His noble inspire many a man to join soon the imperial forces were sending after them attack party's to neutralize their threat. One of these was led by Silvia Winterthorn who almost defeated Brand in the mountains. Luckily the battle was turned at the last second by Brand capturing Silvia herself. They soon grew very close. Soon she was his first lieutenant and shared his bed. This continued for a year or so until Silvia became pregnant. Not wanting his child to grow up in a place where the danger of attack is constant. He promoted his second lieutenant to the position of leader and left for his childhood home. After many months of travelling they arrived by that time Silvia was very close to giving birth. The old house was still there. When he entered he found his father bent with age smiling. "I knew you would come back." was the only thing he said patting his son on the back. The local midwife was called and Silvia gave birth to a beautiful baby daughter. But if Brand thought that he would be left alone he was severely mistaken over the next few months he had to kill many Imperial spies. This led to arguments with Silvia about the safety of raising their child. This came to a head three years ago when Brandon's father died in the night. After many arguments of moving Silvia took their daughter and left with a caravan to the deserts saying that there she and her daughter would finally be safe from the imperial arm. She did not allow Brand to follow officially leaving him. Brandon depressed sold his fathers house and left started his mercenary career constantly moving and changing names.

Skills:Truly great tracker and archer, basic first aid, feltching, okay at swordplay but in no way spectacular, skinning, riding and moving stealthily when he needs to

Gear: A strong yew bow, a good solid green rain cloak, leather amour, a basic steel bastard sword chain mail and Ira who is Res'na which is a species of long tailed mice which have very long lives (compared to other mice) and bond with one human for the whole of it.

Spoiler: HaruRivers as Wen'lok Garabaldi 

Appearance: Wen'lok stands tall by Hume standards, but is of average height for the K'tareen. Measuring 6'2", Wen'lok could pass for a normal hume if he put the effort into doing so. Wen'lok wears a full face mask, made using magic. It tightly fits to his face, covering all of it's features, though his bright green eyes can still be seen through the . It's design is simple, white with a spiral of several arms of dark black going to the right eye. His build is slender as most K'tareen's are. Wen'lok wears very plain clothing, usually solid colors and always practical for traveling.
Name: Wen'lok Garabaldi
Age: 67
Race: K'tareen

Personality: Wen'lok has never enjoyed the fact that he stands out as a person. Being of the K'tareen makes you something of a spectacle, a spotlight he typically tries to avoid. Calm and calculating, Wen'lok prefers to do his own exploration and missions, often finding work through rumors and word of mouth. Being solitary most of the time, Wen'lok has grown to enjoy nature and learn how to live off of it well. Despite enjoying solitude, Wen'lok does enjoy the company of those whom he can carry an intelligent conversation with. Loud and obnoxious people tend to put Wen'lok off and he does not mind voicing his dislike for those people.

Background: Wen'lok is young for a K'tareen. Born of parents who were deeply rooted in the study of magic, Wen'lok followed suit, spending much of his younger years studying magic in all of it's secrets and intricacies. His parents were very adamant about him not actually using magic though. Magic is dangerous without the proper knowledge and the damage it can do without the ability to control it. Finally getting sick of his studies and hoping for a practical knowledge of magic, Wen'lok left his parents home at 58.

Venturing out into the world was a strange experience. His home had been most of his life and the small town he had lived in was hidden from the true vastness of the world. At first, Wen'lok found the Humes strange, they seemed so busy and changed at a moments notice. He traveled from town to town, city to city, in search of odd jobs to do while continuing his studies of magic. As he traveled, he struggled to progress in his magic, his parents had been right, it was incredibly difficult to actually master the magics he knew only in theory.

Wen'lok knew the comet would be big. He saw it while he was traveling to Meduzart and was instantly intrigued. He could feel it's magic right away and knew he must be part of the expedition to find it.

Skills: Basic survival skills, High potential for magics, moderate strength.

Gear: Basic tools for surival, a few books, and an ancient tome that enhances light based magics.

Spoiler: Rhunhildr as Rohan (trotter) 

Appearance:
Name: Rohan nightclaw (known locally as trotter)
Age: 24
Race: Gaian -- Racoon-man (three feet tall)

Personality: Rohan is intelligent, bold and has an infamous sense of stubborn self worth. He is in essence proud, but the prejudiced societal norms that spur Gaea have put him on the receiving end of many blunt transgressions. He is grim, wary and speaks little around the bigger races, but he does have moments of levity, particularly when he is at home around his own kind. The only problem, as you will come to find, is that home for him is the unforgiving roads Lucernai, and the sparse dark corners that still accept his band.

Background: A once proud and wealthy Black-smith family, the Nightclaws have since lost their stateliness- or rather it was wrestled away from them. Since then they have been consistently refused at nearly every city they come across. Most Nightclaw raccoons have forgotten the skill of old, more prone to theft and treachery nowadays, but not Rohan. He has perfected his skill and honed it in silence. Throughout Lucernai his dark eyes have seen much, and forgotten very little. It is his hope that one day he will bring his tribe to its former glory.

Skills: Black smithery, Scavenging, cartography. Although he has all the traits of a master thief, his own honor keeps his hands honest.

Rohan knows no magic, in fact he has quite the distaste for it. He is not strong, nor does he need to be. He relies on his agility and guile rather than brute force, and he is matched by very few in quickness and stealth.

Gear: Owns a large collection of smith tools, however, at three feet in height, he is too small to carry their combined weight. He wears only a light vest of armor, relying on his natural coat to keep him warm. For defensive purposes he carries several throwing knives, which (to him) can double as short swords. Rohan also carries a wrist grapple and hook (his own making) which he uses to climb trees.

Spoiler: Zankuro as Onathe 

Name: Onathe
Rerers to self as: Edge

Age: About 20
Race: Half-Hume, Half Varyan

Spoiler: Appearance 

https://fc00.deviantart.net/fs47/f/20...y_rynkitty.jpg

Edge was a half-Hume half-Varyan, 20-year-old girl. She stood at nearly 5'9" and weighed about 140lbs. Her pointed ears were a dead giveaway that she was part Varyan, but she had very few other commonalities otherwise. She was thin, rough and dirty. Her light green eyes set under her often furrowed brows and she usually wore a smirk on her thin lips. She cloaked herself with an armored top with a red cloth strung around her bottom half, and her boots reach up to her thighs. Edge's hair was usually down to catch the breeze of the sky and she loved to wear a red bandanna with goggles atop her sandy blonde hair. She wore metal, razored gloves and will often be seen yielding a sword.

Spoiler: Personality 

Edge was a ragged, whimsical soul. She seeks adventure and excitement, and she took on almost any challenge she was presented with. She loved to gather a crowd by showing off, but would keep most serious things to herself. If there's anything she loved more than a voyage through the open skies on a ship, it's food. She never opened deeply with about herself, but those who were around her would tell you she has a lot going on inside and was helpless when children are involved, feeling a strong compellence to help them.

Spoiler: Background 

Edge, originally named Onathe by the gypsy her mom gave her up to, had always been a rebel child. She had few memories of the old woman who raised her, as she was left behind and was forced to live on the streets after the age of what she guessed was five. She never knew her birthday, and the gypsy never told her when her birthday was or when Edge was given up to be raised by her (though she probably wouldn't have remembered anyway).

After five hard years of living on the streets like a rat she was doing her usual routine, smuggling foods and goods from various vendors when the air ship came. It hung in the clouds, as if it was a puppet being controlled by god himself. She snuck onto a dock that the ship was loading crates from and inspected it more closely, hiding between the crates, wondering if she could get into some of the food stored in them. Suddenly she was hoisted along with the flat onto the ship. Once the crew found her, she pleaded to join them. They were reluctant because she contained Varyan blood, but the captain had a soft spot as he always wanted a little girl and plopped a pair of goggles onto her head after hearing her story, letting out a hearty laugh, "Well, we needed someone to swab the deck, eh boys?"

She hadn't belonged with anyone until then and became extremely attached to the ship mates, each of them taking her in as if he was her uncle. She ravished in the sense of wonder that they brought to her and happily learned the ways of running a ship when she could, although she was usually sentenced to the monotonous work of cleaning and cooking. She was secretly thankful when the captain would show her how to read a map, all the while bouncing off the walls and asking questions. Edge will probably never be tamed, but she liked it that way.

Spoiler: Skills 

Edge could make basic meals and did chores like cleaning, rope tying, and can fix some simple appliances. She had amateur ability in sword wielding, mostly used as a self-protective device. She had basic skills in map reading and star reading.

Spoiler: Gear 

Edge sported a basic metal plated chest piece and gloves, along with goggles plopped atop her red bandanna. She wore a "dress" of crimson red fabric, but had full mobility in the garment. She had boots up to her thighs and a knife tucked into them (just in case). Her longsword was a bit heavy for her size and is usually just used as a prop. She usually had a bit of rope and some matches on her.

Spoiler: 4:07 as Khamsin Frey 

Tales From Earthsea art by Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli

Name: Khamsin Frey
Age: 17
Race: Hume

Appearance: A male hume in his teens with brown hair, blue eyes, and fair skin suggesting a person from a cold climate. Shorter than many boys his age at only a little over five feet, it's hard to notice his surprising hardiness and dexterity outside of a pressing situation. Something the sword at his belt and the scars on his back hint he's no stranger to; his otherwise humble clothing and travel gear hardly mark him out as anyone but a typical farmer's son leaving home to seek his fortune. Soft-spoken, his eyes nonetheless light up with curiosity and intelligence faced with the novel and unusual.

Personality: Kham isn't the most articulate and tends to go wide-eyed in larger cities. Coming across a scene of violence or injustice makes him clam up even more, struggling to look away with his hands balling into fists under his cloak. He's curious about people and a willing learner and listener, but can blurt out whatever comes to mind gripped with youthful impatience; yet put to the test he acts less with certainty and resolve than with resignation. His true strength perhaps lies in simply admitting he's barely learned enough to recognize his weaknesses; he keeps an eye out for news of adventure in hopes of improving himself, among other reasons.

Background: Kham remembered his hometown as a bustling trade port by the western ocean. Unfortunately this lured pirates who killed his parents and dragged the 5-year-old and his older sister Teagan to slavery in the distant north. Both surviving Freys were sold to the household of a Varyan noble; Eric had designs on ruling over his neighbors and sponsored his brother, a scholar on K'tareen artifacts, to provide the means. The sage entrusted precocious Kham with chores in his library, Teagan landing with the handmaidens to their master's many wives.

Kham's duties grew as he neared his teens. Teagan drew her lord's eye for his own reasons; flight for her sake put her brother under the whip about the same time Eric's foes had enough of his insults and attacked. In the confusion the siblings escaped and broke into the library for a map to find Eric arming himself with a K'tareen blade, which he put to the boy's neck before the girl slashed him across one eye and fled into the tundra with her brother and the sword. Only to nearly die from the cold until a savage-looking hume found and sheltered them; Lugh was an outlaw returning to his homeland on news of Eric's enemies marching. He revealed the tyrant had disappeared but would surely stop at nothing to claim the power to rebuild his rule.

A prediction that would come to pass: the sword Teagan took from Eric held K'tareen magic, something its former owner craved. Years later Teagan and Lugh had fallen in love while her brother trained under the one-time mercenary; one night Eric and his soldiers swept into the village killing anyone in their way to get to the sword. Kham could do nothing but flee with the weapon while his sister and her husband led Eric in another direction.

One year later Kham's reached the south hoping to find his loved ones in Lugh's old stomping grounds. He's taken on any job he could and kept the sword's nature secret chasing any lead that might reunite him with Teagan.

Skills: Kham can read K'tareen and knows a handful of weaker spells, including one that lets its target heal from most injuries, but needs his K'tareen sword in hand to fuel his magic. He's trained in swordmanship but has yet to defeat a skilled foe by himself; as well as the skills he needs to live on the move, including handling animals, but is nowhere as able as his mentors.

Gear: The short sword Kham wields has a plain-looking hilt but reveals itself as exceptional with its unusually sharp and intricately patterned 24-inch blade. He's learned to draw on its magic to power his spells but is unaware of other abilities. He also wears a plain hunting knife and typical traveler's gear.

[Zhaliora]

Spoiler: Molven 

Age: 40
Race: Dark Varyan


Appearance: Molven is 5'10" and weighs 155lbs. She has purplish-redish eyes, silver to borderline white hair with a leather hairband, forming a tail, and long pointed ears. She has a quite fair complexion, looking younger than what her years would tell. Her nose is a bit smallish and pointy at the end, her mouth thin but with full lips. She has a hourglass body type with a big bosom and rump and somewhat wide hips. She is thin, but not skinny, keeping a healthy body. Her skin is dark and silken smooth to the touch, almost unnaturally so.

Armour and clothing: She wears next to nothing, even with her armour and clothes, she shows off quite a bit. Her armour is encrusted with purple emeralds and lined with gold, silver and polished steel. It is made out of darksteel, a quite sturdy material, very similar to steel and of which only a very limited supply exists in the world. The origin of Molven's armour is a mystery, all she knows it that it was in the shrine she found under her village, along with the ornate spidersilk clothing she wears, which is as strong as leather. The only thing keeping her armour and her clothes together are strings made out of spidersilk.

Spoiler: Weapons 

Two ornate short swords lined with gold. They have runes etched into the side of the blades along with more purple emeralds just over the hilt and on the hand guard. They are quite sinister looking, and so are the poisons that Molven enhance them with. She also found these in the shrine.

Skills: Molven is quite proficient in poisons, using them to great effect together with her weapons. She is a trained assassin, proficient in short swords and throwing knives along with daggers. She has dormant magical powers that she does not know anything about. Part from agility and a frenzied fighting style, she does not have any other skills, born and bred to fight and kill.

Personality: Cheerful and always smiling, Molven loves the be in the centre of attention. She has a pulling and somewhat seductive charisma and she likes to flirt around with both guys and girls. She is the typical party girl, or so it would seem. If you look deeply into her eyes, there is a far darker nature hidden inside of her.

Spoiler: Background spoilerish 

Born in a smaller village at the fringes of the empire, Molven's life was always ruled by dogma and dicipline. Up early in the morning. Do your morning exercises. Breakfast. Combat training. Sermon dedicated to the divine. Dinner. Mental training. A short prayer. A all around pass to train everything. Supper. Bathtime, and then a few hours of free time until it was time for sleep.

Day in, day out, year after year, this was Molven's life. Part from the few times when she was "sold" for a mission. Sold, as in hired for a mission, be it assassination, as a fighter or as muscle for some merchant. It did not matter to Molven, as long as someone died, it did not matter. As long as someone died, her diety would be happy. They were a cult of slayers, killers of the best kind. Assassins, cutthroats, murderers. That was what they were. They never slew one of their own though. If you were not fit for duty, there was always other things to do, like farming.

Molven however, was one of those that served the god, a god of war and murder. The cauldron had to be filled, filled with blood, the blood of the slain. Every month, it had to be filled, and every month it was filled. The cauldron was a strange artifact. Everyone had given up some of their blood to the cauldron at a young age, and the cauldron remembered. It remembered those whom had given blood, and every time they shed blood, the cauldron was filled up with the blood of the slain.

The cauldron also held a promise. As long as it was filled up each month, those whom gave blood would have eternal beauty. Their looks would always be preserved after reaching maturity, and even enhanced.

All of this changed one day. It had started just like any other day. Molven was doing her combat exercies when a comet roared past. She looked up and saw it pass. She thought nothing more of it until there was a massive impact. an impact that shook the world. Her world turned red, blood red, and dark.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a pool of blood. She looked around for the source of the blood and found it to be her family's. Molven shrieked and rushed outside to find her family's killer, but all she found outside was death. Her entire village lay dead by the sword. They had slaughtered each other, not a single person was alive.

Her head throbbed and she saw flashbacks. Her swords had slain multiple people here, a bestial howl on her lips as she had done so, a mad laughter. The world returned and she stumbled towards the cauldron. It was overflowing with blood. She had another flashback. She had slain two Dark Varyan which were trying to kill a third one before Molven had slain the third as well.

The world returned once again and Molven's head spun and she fell. She fell down some steps into a chamber. A chamber she could had sworn did not exist before. She slowly stood up and looked around. Blood was pooling onto the floor, running down from the entrance. She found the chamber to be a shrine. There were murials everywhere. They dipicted the charniage that had happened on the surface, they depicted the comet and it's impact.

Molven had another flashback. A flashback of her slaughtering her family, her friends and her fiancé. It had only been a political engagement, so she couldn't care less there, but she had slain her own family. A laughter echoed in the shrine, it was Molven's. She walked to the centre of the chamber and found an armour and a set of two identical swords there. She read the words etched into the podium. "For the one that survives. For the chosen of the bloody handed god. For the last surviving slayer," Molven read aloud.

She looked around one final time. Everything that had happened this night had been depicted on the murials in the shrine. A voice suddenly spoke to her. She quickly looked around, the chamber was empty. "You," it said. "Molven, my chosen champion," it continued as Molven found the sound coming from a statue. "Don this armour and take the blades, because they are sacred artifacts of mine. Take them, and ride out into the world and find the comet that struck the ground. Obey my divine command, oh champion of mine."

Molven had so much to ask, but the voice remained quiet after it had issued it's command, no matter how much she tried to talk to it. She slowly went into action, stripping down and started donning the armour that was on the podium, her eyes crazed. After she had put on the armour, she grabbed the blades and attached them to the back of her armour in the sheath that were there.

With a crazed expression, all the memories from last night flooding back to her, she laughed as she acended the steps. As if guided by a divine hand, she acended the steps to the https://fc00.deviantart.net/fs14/f/20...by_spyders.jpg and walked into it, bathing her entire form and the armour and the swords in the blood of the vanquished before exiting the cauldron and left the village, in search for the holy comet.

[Preach]

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[TheBaron]

Mind if I join.

[TheBarbarian]

Appearance:

Name: Brandon (Brand for short) of Kull also known as "Grey feather"
Age: 36
Race: Hume

Personality: Easygoing man who has adopted a "live and let live" approach to life. He enjoy taking things at their own pace and tends to live in the moment not thinking much of the future or the past for that matter. Although mostly quiet, he is very considerate, caring, and devoted to the people he lets close to him. Worships and deeply believes in the god of the hunt Aldris though he does not force his belief on to others. Very open minded having traveled a lot in his youth and seen many things. Takes a long time to anger but when he finally does his angers burn for a long time. Does not take hear brake well.
Background: Brand was born in a tiny backwater village near the forest of Kull. Hes father raised him alone as his mother had died in childbirth. As a hunters son Brand learned how to shoot a bow before he could even properly learn to talk. He was a natural sharpshooter and by the age of seven he was accompanying his father on his many hunting trips. It was a good life. When Brandon turned 16 he left to join the Empires army. He was such a skilled archer that he was recruited by the Imperial Hawks who were the elite snipers and sharpshooter of the army. With them Brandon got to travel around the Empire. This continued on for close to ten years different battles fought and waged for the glory of the empire. Finally however Brandon was asked something he could not agree to. He and his battalion were ordered to assassinate the local lords women and children to get him to agree to a treaty. Instead of doing what was asked of him Brand helped the lords family escape. Becoming a outlaw and deserter he started his own band of bandits called The Grey Arrows. His goal was to prevent any further attacks of this sort on civilians by the imperial army. His noble inspire many a man to join soon the imperial forces were sending after them attack party's to neutralize their threat. One of these was led by Silvia Winterthorn who almost defeated Brand in the mountains. Luckily the battle was turned at the last second by Brand capturing Silvia herself. They soon grew very close. Soon she was his first lieutenant and shared his bed. This continued for a year or so until Silvia became pregnant. Not wanting his child to grow up in a place where the danger of attack is constant. He promoted his second lieutenant to the position of leader and left for his childhood home. After many months of travelling they arrived by that time Silvia was very close to giving birth. The old house was still there. When he entered he found his father bent with age smiling. "I knew you would come back." was the only thing he said patting his son on the back. The local midwife was called and Silvia gave birth to a beautiful baby daughter. But if Brand thought that he would be left alone he was severely mistaken over the next few months he had to kill many Imperial spies. This led to arguments with Silvia about the safety of raising their child. This came to a head three years ago when Brandon's father died in the night. After many arguments of moving Silvia took their daughter and left with a caravan to the deserts saying that there she and her daughter would finally be safe from the imperial arm. She did not allow Brand to follow officially leaving him. Brandon depressed sold his fathers house and left started his mercenary career constantly moving and changing names.

Skills:Truly great tracker and archer, basic first aid, feltching, okay at swordplay but in no way spectacular, skinning, riding and moving stealthily when he needs to

Gear: A strong yew bow, a good solid green rain cloak, leather amour, a basic steel bastard sword chain mail and Ira who is Res'na which is a species of long tailed mice which have very long lives (compared to other mice) and bond with one human for the whole of it.

[Zhaliora]

@TheBaron
No worries, just throw in a character into the mix and Myke will take a look at it when he has the time.

@TheBarbarian
Thank you for your submission, we'll come back to you with pointers and/or questions about your character later.

[vietmyke]

everything looks good so far, i'd like to see a couple weaker characters though, like novice characters and such

[vFear]

Novice characters, you say? That's my thing!
Give me a bit and I'll have a sheet.

Question: What's the height range for K'tareen?

[vietmyke]

K'tareens are anywhere from 5'6"-7'6", averaging around 6'6"ish and are usually pretty skinny

oh, and with that said, I will be limiting the number of K'tareen characters that I accept

[HaruRivers]

I strongly dislike using images for appearances, so if it's alright I'm going to not use one. I feel like the same 30 images are recycled for appearances lol.

Appearance: Wen'lok stands tall by Hume standards, but is of average height for the K'tareen. Measuring 6'2", Wen'lok could pass for a normal hume if he put the effort into doing so. Wen'lok wears a full face mask, made using magic. It tightly fits to his face, covering all of it's features, though his bright green eyes can still be seen through the . It's design is simple, white with a spiral of several arms of dark black going to the right eye. His build is slender as most K'tareen's are. Wen'lok wears very plain clothing, usually solid colors and always practical for traveling.
Name: Wen'lok Garabaldi
Age: 67
Race: K'tareen

Personality: Wen'lok has never enjoyed the fact that he stands out as a person. Being of the K'tareen makes you something of a spectacle, a spotlight he typically tries to avoid. Calm and calculating, Wen'lok prefers to do his own exploration and missions, often finding work through rumors and word of mouth. Being solitary most of the time, Wen'lok has grown to enjoy nature and learn how to live off of it well. Despite enjoying solitude, Wen'lok does enjoy the company of those whom he can carry an intelligent conversation with. Loud and obnoxious people tend to put Wen'lok off and he does not mind voicing his dislike for those people.

Background: Wen'lok is young for a K'tareen. Born of parents who were deeply rooted in the study of magic, Wen'lok followed suit, spending much of his younger years studying magic in all of it's secrets and intricacies. His parents were very adamant about him not actually using magic though. Magic is dangerous without the proper knowledge and the damage it can do without the ability to control it. Finally getting sick of his studies and hoping for a practical knowledge of magic, Wen'lok left his parents home at 58.

Venturing out into the world was a strange experience. His home had been most of his life and the small town he had lived in was hidden from the true vastness of the world. At first, Wen'lok found the Humes strange, they seemed so busy and changed at a moments notice. He traveled from town to town, city to city, in search of odd jobs to do while continuing his studies of magic. As he traveled, he struggled to progress in his magic, his parents had been right, it was incredibly difficult to actually master the magics he knew only in theory.

Wen'lok knew the comet would be big. He saw it while he was traveling to Meduzart and was instantly intrigued. He could feel it's magic right away and knew he must be part of the expedition to find it.

Skills: Basic survival skills, High potential for magics, moderate strength.

Gear: Basic tools for surival, a few books, and an ancient tome that enhances light based magics.