[M] Cold Steel (Holey & Siks) OOC

Rated M for Mature; Will Encompass All that a Mature Rating Entails!

The world of Turalisj Tonash consists of several continents, but the most unusual of these is the continent of Empyrean, once known as the Land of the Lost. The land is aptly named, as those who became lost were likely to find themselves in this land, and elements of every society and culture from across the vast world could be found, and over time formed into countless small tribes, principalities, and kingdoms.

In the aftermath of the Demon Wars some fifty years ago, during which hordes of exiled demons found themselves on this continent in the same way that most everything else did, these kingdoms and tribes began to band together for safety, eventually forming the Empire which now dominates the temperate regions of the continent. However, the Demon Wars were just the beginning, as the Empire even now continues to expand and gain power as they face a new threat, as the Chromatic dragon heralds of Tiamat have awoken on five separate continents, and now threaten the entirety of the world.

In an effort to continue to expand and unify the tribes of men, the Empire has dispatched an Arcane Knight to the Frozen North, in order to meet with the chieftain of the most powerful of the barbarian tribes. However, little do the knight or his local barbarian escort know that they are mere pawns in a greater conspiracy of deception and betrayal...

Spoiler: Gunther von Reichskapital

Name: Gunther von Reichskapital
Age: Around 32
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Spoiler: Gunther

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com...770db5bde5.jpg

Race: Magically augmented human
Profession: Arcane Knight

Magical Skills and Abilities:

Arcane Spellcasting: With a background of education from the Arcane University, Gunther is able to cast a number of spells, as sub-divided into ten different schools of magic, of which he is highly skilled in three and moderately skilled in four. The level in parenthesis displays the maximum difficulty level of spells of each given school that he is able to cast, while his own memory and knowledge of Draconic determines which spells he knows. Casting spells requires magical energy, also called Mana, limiting the amount of magic Gunther is able to use in a given time period.

Foundry Circuit: A rare magical circuit found only in male descendants of the Foundry and specially designed male homunculi, individuals shown to be able to use the Foundry Circuit are highly sought after to fill high ranking specialty roles such as Arcane Knights. The Foundry Circuit allows Gunther to conjure forth a variety of magical weapons and armor to suit the combat situation, though it requires a great deal of magical energy to do so.

Armored Casting: Arcane Knights train to use arcane magic while wearing all types of armor, up to and including plate armor, which is Gunther's preferred choice in armor due to its full body protection while still allowing near full combat mobility.

Primary Schools of Magic (Arcane caster only, limit three for combat hybrids, four for pure caster):
Abjuration (5)
Alteration (5)
Conjuration (5)

Secondary Schools of Magic (Limit four for combat hybrid, six for pure caster):

Evocation (4)
Divination (4)
Transmutation (4)
Restoration (3)

Auxiliary Schools of Magic:
Compulsion (2)
Illusion (2)

Normal Skills and Abilities:

Martial Weapons Mastery: Gunther is proficient in most forms of battlefield weaponry, with extensive mastery with blades and polearms. He can use Imperial tech weapons and crossbows with a high degree of accuracy, but prefers a face to face confrontation whenever possible and practical.

Heavy Armor Proficiency: Due to extensive training while wearing heavy armor, Gunther's combat movements are not noticeably slowed down, and he can jump and run fairly quickly while wearing it, though not quite as quickly as he can while unarmored. In general, all tropes about heavily armored fighters being immobile do not apply to him, though swimming is still quite difficult.

Education: Due to his background as a University student, Gunther is highly educated in matters of history, lore, and magic, able to read, write, and speak in several different languages, including the trade tongue, the Imperial tongue, the Draconic language, and the Elven language, to name a few. Though he possesses passing knowledge in the local barbarian dialects of the far north, his Imperial accent is quite thick, and he prefers to speak in the trade tongue.

Mounted Combat: As a knight Gunther is highly proficient in both how to ride a horse, and how to fight while on horseback. He has limited training in how to ride a flying mount such as a wyvern or dragon, however, though his mobility on a magically conjured phantasmal steed is quite remarkable.

Commonly used Weapons (Conjured through Foundry Circuit):

Spoiler: Duelists Schiavona

His preferred blade for killing men, this magically enhanced weapon is sharp enough to cut through non-magical armors and exploit the gaps in magical armor. It is enchanted with the Mankiller ability, making it particularly deadly against humans.
https://www.outfit4events.com/runtim...jk-0028_01.JPG

Spoiler: Duelists Cinquedea

A companion offhand to go with the Schiavona, this shorter sword is used to exploit weak points in armor. It is enchanted with the Defender property to make it better suited as a parrying blade, and when summoned along with the Schiavona, requires less mana to summon

Dragonbane polearm (Need a good image for it...): His preferred weapon for dealing with dragons, wyverns, and the like. While swords are inferior against such weapons due to their short reach and inability to cut deep enough to hit vital organs, and field artillery is often difficult to acquire, this polearm is enchanted with the Dragonbane enchantment, allowing it to cleave through the near-impenetrable scales of a dragon to deliver deep, fatal wounds. The exact shape of the polearm's bladed tip can be morphed to suit the needs of combat.

The Bolter (Magical Crossbow, Heavy Steel, Pump Repeater): One of his rare choices in ranged weaponry, this crossbow is necessary in situations where up close and personal isn't enough, such as when dealing with flying opponents, mages, and other distant targets that won't allow him to easily get close. The crossbow itself uses a complex mechanic that allows a new bolt to be slotted into the firing mechanism by pulling back on a pump-action string draw, while the bolts themselves are conjured using the Foundry circuit, with a variety of magical tips selected based on the nature of his target, such as Dragonbane for dragons, spell breaker for mages, mankiller for humans, etc.

Armor:

Spoiler: Gothic Plate Armor of Physical Resistance

As he typically only selects one suit of armor for the entire day, Gunther's default choice is this suit of gothic plate armor due to its full body protection. It is further enchanted with resistance to puncture, slice, and impact attacks, though its lack of specific magic resistance requires him to use his own Abjuration magic for such protection.
https://qph.fs.quoracdn.net/main-qim...00cb10f8a.webp

Dragonscale Plate Armors: When preparing to fight against a chromatic dragon, which he is known to do on occasion, Gunther will instead wear a suit of plate armor crafted from the same color scales as said dragon, in order to provide resistance against the dragon's dangerous breath weapon.

Personality: Though being of the nobility by definition, Gunther lacks many of the typical pompous arrogance of Imperial nobles. He is a soldier, first and foremost, and though he has a sense of honor and dignity when it comes to battle and personal etiquette, he also maintains a sense of duty to protect the weak and uphold justice, as befits a knight. He can, however, be a bit sarcastic and nihilistic, as he is well aware of the corruption prevalent within the Imperial aristocracy. A veteran of many battles, he has a cynical view of humanity and human nature, yet he still clings to old school ideals of chivalry in an age where knights are no longer common on the battlefield.

Likes: Swords, cute non-human girls, a worthy challenge, beer, more cute non-human girls, and jousting.
Dislikes: Whores, Slutty girls, savage brutality, cruelty, rapists, slavery, injustice, and being bored.

History: It is traditional for an Arcane Knight to discard his past upon achieving knighthood, and so he hasn't been known to speak of his childhood or life prior to enrolling in the Arcane University. What is known, however, is that he has been questing for some time now, righting wrongs, slaying dragons, and rescuing damsels, as befits a knight. He has seen quite a bit more combat, both on the battlefield and off, than most of the Empire's knights. His name is becoming more and more well known among the Imperial aristocracy, however, provoking jealous resentment as he has stepped on more than a few corrupt toes in his relentless pursuit of justice in his loyalty to the Emperor's ideals.

Spoiler: Ithilwen "Celine" Vindyamiriel

Name: Ithilwen Vindyamiriel
Nickname: Celine
Age: 74 (Approximately marriage age in the Empire)
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Spoiler: Celine

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/be/0f...3fb235c805.jpg

Race: Moon Elf
Profession: Spellsword / Squire

Magical Skills and Abilities:

Arcane Spellcasting: With a background of education from the Arcane University, Celine is able to cast a number of spells, as sub-divided into ten different schools of magic, of which she is highly skilled in three and moderately skilled in four. The level in parenthesis displays the maximum difficulty level of spells of each given school that she is able to cast, while her own memory and knowledge of Draconic determines which spells she knows. Casting spells requires magical energy, also called Mana, limiting the amount of magic Celine is able to use in a given time period.

Elven Sorcery: As a High Elf, Celine has a background in Elven sorcery as well, which differs somewhat from the Arcane schools of magic in its fairy origins. Incantations are done in the Elven language rather than Draconic, and spell effects favor aesthetic beauty over function, so she uses this form of magic when she wants her spells to look pretty rather than to be efficient.

Spellbladery: Celine uses a specially designed Spellblade weapon, made of magical crystal rather than metal, in order to channel magical effects into her melee strikes. This results in various forms of elemental damage being applied to physical attacks, and makes up for her lack of physical strength when using melee weapons.

Arcane Archery: Using an ancient Elven technique, Celine is able to fire arrows either enchanted with magical effects, or purely magical arrows with no physical mass, from her Elven hunting bow. This is to compensate for her lack of physical strength, as she cannot draw a bow powerful enough to penetrate armor or dragon scales and must rely on magical arrows to get the job done.

Primary Schools of Magic (Arcane caster only, limit three for combat hybrids, four for pure caster):
Compulsion (5)
Illusion (5)
Restoration (4)

Secondary Schools of Magic (Limit four for combat hybrid, six for pure caster):

Abjuration (3)
Divination (3)
Evocation (3)
Transmutation (3)

Auxiliary Schools of Magic:
Alteration (2)
Conjuration (2)

Normal Skills and Abilities:

Blade Dancer Adept: While no match for a powerful warrior when it comes to brute strength, Celine relies instead on finesse fighting, using a sword of magical crystal which is lighter than a metal blade, yet harder than steel. She uses a style of Elven blade mastery known as Blade Mastery, which takes decades to learn. Due to her young age (for an elf), she is only considered an adept in this style, having trained hard for a mere thirty years to get to where she is now.

Elven Archery: Her incredibly potent eyesight and superhuman agility allow Celine to perform incredibly precise target marksmanship with an elven hunting bow. Though the draw strength is low, the ability to strike with precision against weakpoints with arcane archery makes up the difference, making her a highly effective ranged combatant.

Medium Armor Proficiency: Lacking the strength and endurance to fight for long in heavy armor, Celine has nevertheless trained in armor use, to an extent. She is proficient in medium armor, but typically only wears a few select pieces of enchanted moonsilver so as not to interfere with her Elven sorcery and to utilize her speed and agility to the fullest, reinforcing the gaps on her defenses with Abjuration spells.

Education: Due to her background as a University student, Celine is highly educated in matters of history, lore, and magic, able to read, write, and speak in several different languages, including the trade tongue, the Imperial tongue, the Draconic language, and the Elven language, to name a few. She made a point to study the northern barbarians and their language extensively in order to support Gunther in his mission, though her High Elven accent is quite thick and comes across as princess-like.

Mounted Combat: As an elven spellsword, Celine is proficient in both how to ride a horse, and how to fight while on horseback. While her blade skills on horseback are inferior to those of a knight, she is skilled in mounted archery, and can ride traditional Elven flying mounts such as pegasi and hippogriffs. Though she used to ride unicorns, she lost this ability when she began to ride Gunther instead.

Weapons:
Crystal Spellblade (in picture): This blade, created by University mages from a form of magical crystal called Arcanite, is as hard as a diamond, lighter than steel, and razor sharp. The single most valuable item that Celine owns, it is highly conductive to magical energy, designed to channel magical effects into melee strikes in order to make up for the traditional lack of physical strength among Elven women. It is bound to Celine, so that if it leaves her possession or is taken to her, it returns to her at dawn the next day.

Spoiler: Elven hunting bow

https://i.imgur.com/hCC8W6s.png
This bow is as precise as it is beautiful, allowing precision marksmanship at long range. Though its magical enchantment amplifies its accuracy and the velocity of arrows fired from it, the draw strength is rather low, so it lacks the ability to pierce heavy armor or dragon scale without further magical assistance.

Armor:

Moonsilver gauntlets and greaves of Defense (in picture): While far from a full suit of armor, the greaves and gauntlets worn by Celine are forged from enchanted Moonsilver and are incredibly lightweight, yet as strong as steel. They allow her to use Elven sorcery along with Arcane magic, as she lacks the proficiency to do either while wearing any sort of heavy armor. However, a magical enchantment on these items allows them to reinforce the rest of her body with Abjuration magic, which acts as armor for the seemingly exposed parts of her body with the same level of protection as the actual armor itself.

Personality: An aristocrat from a noble family of Moon Elves, Ithilwen Vindyamiriel is quite naive and childlike in her view of the world, with a sense of wonder that betrays her youth. Though she is over twice Gunther's age, she acts like she's around half his age, due to the difference in relative maturity between elves and humans. Preferring to be called by her human name, Celine, this cheerful, energetic elf bridges the gap between youth an adulthood, as she can just barely be considered of marriage age (and old enough to have sex, which she won't let Gunther forget) in the Empire.

Likes: Knights in shining armor, pretty dresses, flowers, stylish weapons and armor, humans, magic, and sex (but only with Gunther).
Dislikes: Slutty girls, manly girls, mean people, uncivilized wood elves, orcs, and dumb barbarians (though she hides this last one when dealing with them).

History: A member of the Vindyamiriel family of moon elves, Ithilwen Vindyamiriel began her studies in elven sorcery, archery, and unicorn riding from a very young age, though the process was, at first, as slow as everything else in Elven society. After her primary education in basic literacy and mathematics, she began to attend an all-girls' prep school for Arcane education in her late sixties. Though she was still forty years too young to be considered old enough to leave the Elven society, the fact that the other girls attending this prep school would be close to her same relative age was enough to eventually convince her parents to let her leave home to attend school. This was her first experience socializing with races other than her own.

After making friends and graduating from this prep school, she transferred to the Arcane University in the Imperial City, where she studied to be a Spellsword. By the time she graduated, she was still only 73 years old, and looked much younger than the graduating human students, as she had only aged by about a year over her five year education. However, she knew that if she returned home, she would be forbidden to leave again until her hundredth birthday, and had come to love the energy and excitement of the Imperial City too much to leave so soon.

During her studies, Ithilwen quickly learned that her name was hard for Imperial humans to pronounce properly, and began to use the nickname Celine, which held he same meaning in the Imperial tongue. She was using this name when she met an Arcane Knight who she came to admire deeply, who had recently lost his squire. After weeks of begging and pleading, Celine eventually managed to use her feminine charms to convince this knight to take her as his new squire, and has been travelling with him ever since, refusing to return home for fear of being separated.

Spoiler: Iolaire-Sealgair

Name: Iolaire-Sealgair (translates to eagle hunter in the ancient Albanach tongue)
Age: 32
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Spoiler: Iolaire and Dubhar

https://i.imgur.com/sXAKO74.jpg
Like any spawn birthed from two warrior races Iolaire is a bear of man. 6'11 and weighing a mighty 280 pounds of thick cold resistant muscle. His hair is the color of fresh bark and his eyes burn with the cyan glow of Albain's purest skies.

His ever present companion and oldest friend is his Dire Eagle Dubhar(translates to Shade in the ancient tongue). A bird both large and imposing with feathers of dark brown and eyes of vibrant amber and tipping the scales at 40 inches tall, weighing in at 15 pounds with a wingspan of 7 feet.

Iolaire's outfit usually consists of the above, a sturdy mix of scale mail armor on his shoulders and studded leather covering his torso. His gauntlets are also studded leather and lined with fine rabbit fur to ward off the cold in the north. He wears modified iron greaves on his thighs and his boots are metal shined leaving his knees free to move with ease they are also rabbit fur lined. He often has a bear fur cloak draped about his shoulders and the Visigoth raid flag his father and mother bedded on when they conceived him is wrapped about his neck like a scarf. He also carries a bone fetish carved in the shape of a soaring eagle. He wears it at all times, keeping the amulet under his armor and always close to his heart.

Race: Half breed, his father was an Albanaigh warrior and his mother was a Visigoth Raider. A more violent coupling the Gods couldn't imagine.

Job: Big game hunter

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Magical Resistance: An ability of unknown origin, but something the allows Iolarie to tank magic spells offensive ones and buffers. While not unheard among his people is extremely rare.

Powerful: Genetics, living a hard life, and hunting animals big enough to kill him in one blow. Iolaire is a bear of a man, both in strength and durability.

Swift Hunter: Much like a Sabercat he can move quickly over short distances, but his size makes it hard to be a marathon runner.

Keen Eyes: A natural skill he mastered over the years the man has very good eyes and can see decently enough in the dark.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Ranger: His skillset, his lifestyle, living in the wilds and learning the thrill of the hunt.

Tracker: Able to find and follow tracks under any conditions and go with it for many miles.

Primitive Hunter: Using long metal tipped spears and darts and an elk antler atlatl. Iolaire is deadly accurate and able to drop mammoths from one hundred yards.

Falconry: While not using a falcon, Iolaire still uses the same techniques with his Dire Eagle, Dubhar.

Leather working: Able to skin, tan, and work with leather to make things like armor, clothes, saddles, etc.

Weaknesses: While Iolaire is man of the wilds with great skill in woodcraft and survival he has no formal training or even any real knowledge in the Scholarly pursuits many associate with a "civilized society" He cannot read or write, nor can he look at a mathematical problem on a sheet of paper and be able to make heads or tails of it. He has no artistic understanding or cultured opinions on politics or fashion. He speaks bluntly and with no skill in the finer points of speechcraft he often steps over an invisible line that calls for him to rectify the problem with his fist. He is not stupid, but all his skills are born from surviving and word of mouth. He also lacks a cultured tongue and accent, living his whole life in Albain means he wields the thick northern accent like a warhammer rushing past others in a desire to get his thoughts out first before he becomes confused with the flow of conversation.

He knows full well his intellectual limitations and it has often made him into the fool when he tries to respond properly to something and it comes out wrong causing others to mock and force him to step back before he hurts anyone. The burning pride of both the Albanacha, and the Visigot smoulders forever in the man's heart and it stops him from asking for aid in the fields he is weakest in.

And lastly his biggest weakness would be his temper. Even with a better control of it in his late twenties that fiery dragon is always just under the surface waiting for a single chain to break before it rends it's cage asunder and rains pain down upon the offender and those around him. This rage is quick and devastating, he has been known to break the necks of horses and splinter the walls of wooden houses when in the throes of his anger. And short of killing him, there is no way to quell it, all that can be done is run and hide until he comes down on his own.

As is always the effect of a man's anger, guilt and regret follow close on the heels of a rage. He is brought face to face with the pain and suffering he has wrought each and every time. Angry mobs chase him into the wilds and force him deeper and deeper into isolation. With that isolation comes a certain lucidity of madness. He stares into the abyss for hours feeling the utmost sadness for his actions, but he lacks the ability to end his own life. So he chooses to try and focus that regret into hunting and surviving doing what he can to keep his mind off it.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Atlatl and hunting darts: His primary hunting tools the atlatl itself is two feet long and the darts themselves are about a foot long apiece and tipped with hardened metal heads.

Boar Spear: A stout spear about as long as his arm from shoulder to middle finger tip and topped with a hefty black metal barbed head.

Hunting Knife: Like his spear his hunting knife is made of a strong black steel. Razor sharp cutting edge with a saw back and thick blunted pommel.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The scale-mail and studded leather armor in the image.

Equipment: Fire-making tools, leather working tools, dart and spear maintenance tools, thick bedroll, trapping tools, his heavy bear fur cloak.

Personality: Upon first glance fear is often the thing someone feels when looking upon the large Ranger. His unsmiling face, his steady brooding eyes, the square and defensive way he keeps his broad shoulders pulled back, as if waiting for death to come calling after him. Everything lends towards an air of a hard fought life and the unspeakable cruelty of the far north.

And those initial feelings are not wrong, a life of isolation will leave anyone grim faced and cheerless. Iolaire is one such case, but he is not an emotionless block of ice as many would expect. He simply wishes to take each step carefully, born with a most savage of tempers the Ranger has spent much of his solitary life trying to keep himself in check. Because death often follows when red crosses his eye and his anger wins out.

With only Dubhar and the occasional traveler he has traded with for companionship, Iolaire is a private man. He has a kind disposition towards animals of all kinds and a knack for calming them should they get upset. Women fascinate him to the point of distraction at times. He has had enough contact with them to know what to expect, but even then he mostly just watches them from a distance and lets them make the first move.

Faith: Having been raised among the Albanacha, Iolaire follows their faith of harmony with nature. In particular he is a follower of the Way of the Eagle. He still carries the amulet he got from the old man that saved him, pulling it out when he is alone and chanting softly asking the Eagle to guide him. The Way of the Eagle is a belief system that man must follow three paths or "ways" to reach a point of true harmony with himself and the world around him. The Ways are, the Way of the Warrior which is the physical plane, the Way of the Hunter which is the mental plane, and lastly is the Way of the Leader which is the Spiritual plane. As of now Iolaire has mastered the Way of the Warrior and is skilled in the Way of the Hunter, but he has only just begun upon the Way of the Leader.

Likes: Women, meat, the cold, sunrise, hot mead, the wilderness and Mizia.

Dislikes: Southerners, the heat, the night, tea, cities, and losing his prey.

Spoiler: Background

Iolaire's origins are as coated in blood as his present life. He was born from a three day tryst between Chalmers, a Albanaigh warrior and Gudrun, a Visigoda raider from the sea. His father Chalmers was part of a militia created to combat the ongoing raids from Goth. He and his men had the raiders pinned down and were readying a final assault on their encampment when a storm of legend blew in from the sea. Both sides were tossed into chaos and any thoughts of war were quickly dispelled as most of the raiders fled to their ships to try and sail through the icy winds and the warriors ran for the protection of the many caves along the coast.

By some sick twist of fate Iolaire's parent wound up using the same cave for protection. Like a Sabercat and Direwolf being locked into the same room together the two warriors fought themselves bloody. Exchanging blow for blow until they sunk into a battleborn lust and passion. Using Gudrun's signal flag as a bed they coupled well into the night. The storm ravaged the coast for three days seeking out and destroying both the raiders on their ships and the militiamen squatting in the caves. Almost all fell to the rage of the blizzard, all but the man and woman huddling together besides a natural hot springs deep in a cave to the East. Feeling a carnal love and mutual lust for one another, they continued to couple and at the end of the third day when the storm had finally dissipated. Gudrun was shown a dream of motherhood and knew right then she was with child.
Chalmers had a dream as well. Only this one showed a dark cloud was hanging over the child's soul and if it was allowed to live it would kill them both in a thunderous rage. He kept this from Gudrun though, maybe the spirits were playing tricks on him for bedding a Visigoda "whore". When the storm passed the couple fled into the wilds and stayed there for the nine months needed for their son to come full term. He was born strong and healthy, but also under a cold moonless night with thick black clouds hanging overhead. Chalmers replayed the dream in his head and knew this waif would be the one to kill them in the years to come. But his woman was glowing with motherly energy and he couldn't bring himself to ruin it for her. He remembered the stories she told about the children she had lost in the past. For a year they raised the boy, but as soon as he was weaned from Gudrun's breast Chalmers wrapped the boy in his mother's raid flag and stole him away one night. He left the sleeping child beneath a Faerie tree as a way to appease the little folk and ask them spare him and his mate from the death he knew would come to pass.

The night was cold and wet, but it was not the night destined to bring about the end of Iolaire. He remained comfortable and safe in the roots of the Fae tree the thick fabric of the raid flag shielding him and by morning an old Shaman had found him and rescued the wailing child. For five years the old man raised him, teaching him the ways of the Albanach and giving him the name Iolaire-Sealgair. The man taught him the way of the spear, the knife, and the hunt, but it was only temporary. The old man who Iolaire never learned the name of died one warm summer night. Age had caught him, and then fate decided to raise the child itself. Wild and free under the skies and unchecked in all aspect of life, Iolaire knew only his name, his hunting skills, and the Eagle amulet Shaman had given him with his last breath. For many this would've spelt the end, but the anger his parents feared gave him the edge he needed to fight the wild animals, so for fifteen more years he let the rage be his best weapon against the claws of death.He caused a great many troubles for the villages in the shadow of the mountain where he lived. Using his eagle to pillage and hunt and his massive size and power to terrorize farmers, he was the bane of peace everywhere. That is until he angered a powerful Bann and felt the man's wrath come crashing down upon his head like a wave from the coast. He escaped with his life, but the injuries taught him a lesson he had never been taught before, consequences come for those who bring havoc.

At age twenty he decided to turn over a new leaf and try to control his anger. It didn't always work, but eventually he managed to go a few years without losing it. He traded meat and hides for things he needed and generally stayed out of everyone's' way. The Ranger seemed to finally find peace giving thanks to the spirits for it all along the way, that is until his twenty-sixth winter. He had made a fair pile of coin capturing and taming a rare white stag for Bann Rindar, the man had been tracking the beast for years and believed it to be proof his rule was ordained by nature since his banner was the rampart white stag on a field of deep green. Many men, the Bann included had failed to catch the large beast getting just close enough to see it's burning red eyes before it vanished like smoke into the elder wood.
Word of Iolaire's skill came to the Bann's ears and the man was so obsessed with the stag he was willing to forgive the wild hunter's past crime if he could capture that which the Bann valued most.
With a reward like that it was impossible for Iolaire to say no. Packing up everything he would need the Ranger began the most important hunt of his life, the hunt for his redemption. For many months he tracked the Stag over vale and dale, across moors, and up ragged peaks. He caught it at midnight besides the very Faerie tree that sheltered him after his father abandoned him. Of course he didn't know this at the time, he just saw his prey and lunged. He crashed into the animal and the two of them scuffled for a few minutes until the white deer leapt at Iolaire and sent him crashing through the old tree destroying it in the process, but the loose soil made for unsure footing and the stag fell allowing the hunter to muzzle it and jump upon it's back. The two males fought throughout the night, the stag using all it's might to try and toss the giant man from it's back and Iolaire wrapping his thick arms around the creature's neck holding on with all of his own considerable strength.

It was the early stages of dawn when the Stag finally reached it's end and laid down in defeat. Iolaire let out a triumphant bellow and wrapped the gold inlaid rope the Bann had provided around the stag's neck and tied it to a large oak tree nearby. They rested for a few hours, then the Ranger began leading his prize back to the village. There the Bann and his men greeted him with praise and fanfare allowing the hunter to walk the great white stag right through the gates of Rindar's Keep. There the Bann gave Iolaire his word that all his crimes were forgiven and a sack of gold to spend as he wished. This looked to be the happiest day of the big man's life and he was on his way to the local inn to enjoy some of the Innkeeper's famous mead and roasted pig.
The people there were warm and inviting, Iolaire was already enjoying his new fame, sadly the wild man had spent too much time in the forests and wasn't up on all the gossip surrounding the Bann. Rindar was a cruel and vindictive man, he was also one of the people Iolaire had wronged in one his rages. Iolaire had killed the Bann's prized hunting hounds a few years back and ever since Rindar has been trying to exact his revenge, but Iolaire was too good at hiding in the woods for anyone to find him so the Bann needed to convince the recluse to show himself.

And that is when he decided to combine the two things he wanted most. The White Stag and Iolaire-Sealgair's head, it was just good fortune he managed to convince the dimwitted hunter to catch the deer for him. But now with the Stag in his clutches he was ready to kill and make an example of the huntsman. Eagle Hunter was well into his cups when the Bann stormed into the inn and had Iolaire arrested. He was then dragged out into the street to be executed. Too drunk to fight back at the moment the Ranger looked on in a daze as four men grabbed him and carried him away from the warmth of the inn and tossed him into the muddy street outside. He saw the Bann through a haze and could only hear his words as a fuzzy whining. He didn't know what was going on, but as he saw the bright glint of a headsman's axe in the firelight of the mob's torches his instincts told him he had been betrayed and his rage told him the time had come to fight. Red blurred his vision and the city of Rindale became bloody that night.

He does not know how long he was in this blind rage and he still doesn't know exactly how many met their end at his hand. His next memory after the inn was in the southern parts of Albain carrying his hunting equipment, his cloak, armor, the flag scarf and his eagle. His hands were still bruised and swollen and a large cut around the back of his neck had been hastily mended with a bit of linen. Still to this day that entire night is lost to him. He wandered for a year hopping the first boat to the Misty Isles where he hoped he would be far enough away from the anger of Bann Rindar's retainers. No one cared for your crimes in this haven for pirates and cowards, as long as you watched your back and kept your head down you'd be fine.
He found odd jobs hunting and did some manual labor, putting his massive size to use when game was scarce. It was during one of these manual labor jobs that Iolaire came across a bloated Sarbai slave master and a pale skinned Shenkai slave woman. Iolaire was simply wishing to eat a quiet dinner by himself when the man arrived all perfume and gaudy robes, he was drunk and tossing coins all around the bar buying up tables for his many "friends".

The Highlander was used to pitiful displays like this. And most times he would simply finish his meal as quickly as possible and leave, but the Slave Master moved quicker than the Huntsman could eat. He had bought and seated every table in the spacious inn, and he had taken a fancy to the table by the fireplace for his own, but Iolaire had claimed it first the warmth helped soothe the aches in his back from lifting heavy crates onto ships all day. He was doing his best to be done and go home, but the Sarbian's lack of patience wouldn't allow it.

He approached Iolaire and sneered.
"Begone sheep shagger, your betters require this table."

Finishing his mouthful of food Iolaire began voicing an apology, but one of the Slaver's guards stepped up and swept the remnants of the hunter's food from his table shattering them against the floor and wall. Sealgair could feel the anger stirring so he quickly stood and tried to move away, but that same guard swung at the giant's head with his club. It connected with a resounding thud, but the impact forced the man to drop his broken club and stagger back. Iolaire didn't see red, but no attack on him would go unpunished. The attacker's arm was grabbed and broken before Iolaire spun in a circle ripping the limb from its socket and sending the guard into the stone mantle above the fireplace. The second guard then tried to come to his comrade's aid but was kicked squarely in the chest and sent through the railings of the stairs. The last man standing between the cowering Slave Master and the massive Albanaigh was grabbed around his throat and hefted several feet off the floor before being smashed through the very table Iolaire had been sitting at.

With his guards so easily dispatched and the rest of his party too stunned to act the black bearded man dropped to his pudgy knees and tried to bargain with the Highlander for his life.
"Please, good warrior it was just in jest. My men didn't mean to offend you! Please spare my life we'll be on our way! I...I'll even give you my newest servant, Mizia! She's a young nubile thing, a touch on the small side, but of Shenkai stock! She can cook, she can dance, and you know what they say about those warrior women...right? Lovers with endless stamina and known for producing strong sons and daughters! Everything a great Albanaigh warlord could want in a woman!" The man even called the girl over for the big man to look at. Iolaire loomed over the quaking man, the very idea of slavery sickened him. All people should be free, by rights he should crush this bastard's skull and free all of his servants, but he could already hear the Slave Master's other men plucking up their courage to attack him, the giant did not wish to fight any more this night. So he took the woman's contract and ripped it to shreds freeing her before making his way through the tavern to the road. He had done his good deed for the day, what happened to the woman next was out of his hand.

This was five years ago. He continued living his life as he always had even managing to return to Albain after word of Bann Rinder's death by consumption reached his ears, but on the sixth year Mizia found him feeling she owed him a debt and has been his unofficial wife ever since.

Spoiler: Mizia Sealgair

Name: Mizia Sealgair
Age: 28
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description)

Spoiler: Mizia

https://i.imgur.com/d04hxY8.jpg

A prime example of Shenkai womanhood, 5'4, 135lbs of wild cat muscle. While she was born into an order of peaceful monks who practiced martial skills for exercise Mizia's short life as one of the suicide squad bounty hunters known as the Damned Blades has littered her once porcelain white and flawless skin with a tan and a story book of scars.

Her brown hair is kept long out of vanity and her eyes are a dull jade something very uncommon among her people. The Dragon tattoo along her side was a symbol carried over from her days as a monk of the Absent Eye Order. They believed Dragons were the precursors to the Shenkai people and as an old order they believed themselves among the purest "Dragonkin" All bullshit if you ask Mizia, but the tattoo is beautiful and it gives her a cool story to break the ice with.

Despite being more warrior than monk now she maintains the stern beauty of womanhood with a pleasant triangular face sporting many laugh lines and scars making her look more human than the dolls that fill the pleasure houses of her homeland. The above is her training garbs blindfold included, but once she is on mission it is all replaced with a sturdy suit of leather and flowing cloth to keep her protected but not hamper her movement which considering her smaller size is her claim to further life.

Race: Shenkai
Job: Monster/ Bounty Hunter

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Magic Affinity: A latent skill from her ancestors Mizia has the ability to learn structured magic abilities.

Zen: A natural skill that allows her to center herself in even the most trying of situations.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Lore: Learned during her time with the Damned Blades. Mizia knows monsters and people and how best to hunt them down.

Qi Control: From her years with the Absent Eye, Mizia learned how to channel her lifeforce or Qi into physical buffs or enhancers to make her hits harder and her body stronger.

Martial Artist: Another skill born from her time as a monk. Mizia is a highly skilled fighter able to use momentum and pressure points to win fights even against much bigger and non-humans foes. As well as skilled in the usual melee and ranged weapons of the Monks.

Alchemy: From poisons to potions Mizia can forage up herbs and ingredients from most areas.

Dancer: A newer skill she was forced to learn as a slave Mizia is a very graceful dancer and quite light on her feet.

Weaknesses:

Small frame: Despite being a trained fighter Mizia is a small woman and not overly strong.

Qi Limits: While not the same as traditional magic Qi still has a finite pool of stamina and will to pull from and if she overextends herself her nerves and body can be irrevocably damaged. And Mizia needs great control and focus to use the abilities.

Soft Fatalist: While not the same do or die as her other Damned Blades, Mizia is still a woman who is more than willing to put herself in unnecessary danger to accomplish her goal.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Long Mace: The weapon in the image about six feet long and made of wood and well made steel at the head and butt.

Hunter's Swords: Specially made swords one of steel the other silver and both are used to hunt bounties.

Long Bow: A sturdy Yew Long bow with arrows made for hunting both humans and monsters.

Holy Oil: Concoctions used for hunting things that go bump in the night.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): A study suit of flexible leather armor.

Equipment: Fire making tools, arrow making tools, clean water, various charms and talismans. Spare clothes, bounty letters.

Personality: As a rule the Damned Blades are fatalists. They are pulled from prisons all around the world and trained to fight the most horrific creatures in existence with the simple acceptance that they're number could be punched in a day. It's in fact a cornerstone of the group's training and recruitment.

But not everyone in the Damned Blades is happy to let a vampire kill them without a fight. Some indeed would like to live long enough to retire and Mizia has managed to maintain the brighter outlook of the Absent Eye Order since joining the jaded group. So she's cheery hopeful individual that works on keeping the sun in her heart even when she's facing down a dark tunnel with angry monster noises coming out of it

Faith: Mizia is one who believes in Fate's Hand and doesn't expect it to deal her any favors.

Likes: Men, the sun, fruits, making money, Iolaire, her freedom.

Dislikes: City dwellers, the cold, losing money, rich people, slavery

Spoiler: Background

Born in a quaint little village nearest the sea named Heiwa, Mizia was the middle daughter of two monks. Now many have asked how can someone be the child of two monks sworn to celibacy? The answer to that is simple, their Order is not a religious one. The Absent-Eye Order is more earthly in its aims and it's training, while they do all believe in an otherworldly Grand Teacher they acknowledge that they are human and humans have needs that both need to satiated and controlled to live a full and happy life. As such marriage and children are encouraged among the Monks of the Absent-Eye.

Like her sisters Mizia was training as soon as she could walk. Learning the Martial Arts of the Absent-Eye. At first it was simply seeing a move and repeating it until perfection, but as the years rolled on and the young girl became more proficient she was shown some of the signature training techniques of her Order namely the Techniques of the Absent Senses. In a nutshell the Techniques of the Absent Senses are a series of four deprivation exercises where a monk has one or more of their five senses removed and forced to rely on the others to fight, live, and survive. Each exercise requires two years of continuous training to successfully learn to live without. First is the sense of taste and the sense of smell, where ash is added to all food and drink until the person becomes so used to it many believe they will never taste anything else and strong herbs are hung under the person's nose and so fills it up that they can smell nothing else, but then tiny drops of flavor and sometimes poison are added thus teaching the trainee's taste buds and olfactory senses to pick out anything even slightly out of the ordinary and be wary.

Next is touch and hearing, the monk's hands and feet are wrapped in thick cloth or leather and their ears are covered. They are forced to learn how to adapt to it picking up delicate objects walking on unsteady ground and training their eyes to be quick and take in everything around them. At the end of those two years the person grains a strong grip, surefootedness, and a keen ability to pick out single sounds in a sea of noise. After taste, smell, touch, and hearing comes the most difficult deprivation exercises. First their sense of sight, they are blindfolded and must live like a blind person. The blindfold allows light through so the eyes do not atrophy, but making out shapes and such is difficult. The blindfold can come off, but that person must keep their eyes closed at all times. They learn to use their hands, ears, nose more proficiently, after the technique of the Absent Eye comes the final and most closely guarded exercise and one only true Masters can learn total deprivation of their five senses, forcing the individual to rely on their minds-eye and intuition to survive. Two years straight is spent isolated meditation, eating and drinking only enough ash laced sustenance to live. Here the monk is locked up alone and in a black, soundproofed room with a continuous airflow blowing through so they can breath. At the end of those two years the masters of the Order decide to stage a random all out assault on the meditating Monk. Moving swiftly and silently they attack the person and the Monk is expected to fight for their lives. The object is to defeat the masters and find the key needed to unlock your cell.

Mizia grew up with hopes of undertaking these Techniques as do all young Monks. And she made it all the way to the Absent Eye technique. But fate, as she learned had other plans for her, what brought her to the Damned Blades was the same thing that brought her to Skye a year ago. A corrupt Shenkai lord looking to impose his will upon her. At twenty Mizia had grown up strong and curvy, many men wished for her hand, but she could only wed a fellow Monk of the Absent-Eye and none of her suitors wished to undergo the training required. So for the moment the young Shenkai maiden was relegated to being single, but content with her lot. Soon word came one day that Shaing-Zhou, an important Warlord from Shenkai's largest city, Gian was doing a tour of the nation and Mizia's seaside monastery was on his list of places to grace with his presence. Needless to say the relatively poor Order was eager for the prestige and honor Shiang-Zhou would bring their home. Weeks were spent in preparation for the man's visit, many monks and villager were tending the lands and repairing any damages to the monastery that had gone neglected for far too long, and Mizia's family was in the thick of it.

Then on the first day of summer the Warlord arrived and the entire village of Heiwa was in uproar. Parades went up and down the tiny dirt street, feasts were held, and Shiang-Zhou's name was praised to the heavens above! All was going great...until the man reached the gates of the Absent-Eye Monastery, that is when the man first caught sight of the fair young Mizia and that is when the monk's life was truly dealt a cruel hand. Shiang-Zhou immediately took a liking to the bright-faced young woman and demanded she be his guide and liaison for the Order, the Elders readily agreed and Mizia was at first eager to be of service to such a noble man. But behind his smiles and grand gestures beat the heart of a monster. When in the privacy of his camp he insulted the order, disrespected the monastery, and forced himself upon any woman he wanted be she barely an adolescent or a mother of three. And because of his titles and powers none of the residents could touch him even when a girl came back from his camp with bruises on her face and blood trickling down her legs. He terrorized the countryside for weeks before his lecherous ways finally caught up with him, despite being by his side from the start Mizia had managed to avoid finding herself on her back in his bed be it by claiming exhaustion from her training or her monthlies, the Warlord was content to philander with other easier targets and wait for the prize he thought would be his greatest conquest ever. Eventually though he had exhausted the fresh woman flesh the village could offer and turned his eyes on the pretty young monk once again.

She had been expecting this and been planning for it. After he swore to burn down the village and monastery if she rejected him again Mizia finally conceded. Luckily her plan was already in motion, for many days she's been meeting with Shiang-Zhou's victims and other members of her Order. Together they came up with a plan to expel this horrid man from their lands, when the Warlord took Mizia to his tent she would slay him then signal an attack on the unsuspecting Warlord's troops. The villagers knew the land and the troopers would be too drunk to notice since one more grand feast was to be held right in the heart of the lord's camp. Now after an entire day of eating, drinking, and entertainment the hour had come. Shiang-Zhou grabbed Mizia and retired with her to his tent, the man was already half naked when they reached his spacious quarter and before Mizia could even get a look at it her kimono was ripped from her body and she was thrown onto the floor for her ravaging. The Warlord was too eager though and in his excitement he was having trouble removing the belt to his pants and had forgotten the dagger he had dropped next Mizia's naked body. Quickly grabbing it she used her training and rolled to her feet before plunging the knife deep into the Warlord's bare chest. He died almost instantly and Mizia grabbed a hunting horn from the wall and gave it a commanding blow, as the call went out the Monk watched the life flee from Shiang-Zhou's eyes as her compatriots dove into open conflict killing the Warlord's drunken soldiers.

The battle was quick and bloody, but even with the element of surprise on their side many of the under armed villager were slain before the Warlord's remaining troops either died or fled. The village rejoiced at finally being freed from Shiang-Zhou's oppression and degradation. But this victory was momentary, a few months later whole armies arrived at the gates of the city. Those soldiers the villagers did not slay had made it back to the capital city and told the Emperor their side of the story, and it was the man needed to gather Shiang-Zhou's allies and order a march on the tiny village. They had explicit orders to either bring the mastermind behind the slaying his his trusted Warlord to him for judgement or destroy the town and salt the earth around it. Mizia surrendered herself to their "justice" and was tossed into a cage for transport with other criminals of the empire. The trip was long and terrifying, but as per orders she was left alone. Once she arrived at the gates of the Emperor's palace she was ready to meet her fate, she wasn't ashamed of her actions in fact she felt justified in them.
But whether the Emperor felt the same way she did not know, as she was brought before the Emperor fate seemed to intervene once again. All the rage and fuming she saw upon the man's face faded once he finally realized who had actually killed Shiang-Zhou. A dirty haired young woman who looked more at home in a tea house rather than in a cage with hardened political assassins and civil war generals. He heard Mizia's case and decided not to execute her, rather she would be conscripted into the ranks of the military prisoners that made up the Damned Blades. Glad to take life over death Mizia thanked the Emperor for his mercy and was sent back home to say goodbye and prepare.

She spent two weeks getting her affairs in order and saying goodbye to her family. It was a bittersweet departure. Her family and her village would be safe, but chances were good she'd never see any of them again. But the Monk survived for three years fighting monsters and living with convicted felons whose rap sheets were longer than her arm. And while some of them were indeed black-hearted bastards many of her fellow Blades were simply soldiers or civilians who found themselves on the bad side of some puffed up lord. Now as it was coming upon her fourth year in the Damned Blades Shiang-Zhou's vengeance found its way to her doorstep once again. Now from the lecher's many dalliances Mizia assumed he sired many bastard children, but it seems he also had a few legitimate children from actual wives of his. One of these brats was a retired Captain in the Imperial Army, and with his last tour of duty ended he took it upon himself to find his father's killer. He had heard it was a young woman now serving a death sentence with a group of renegades and after a few months of searching he found Mizia at the Damned Blade outpost in the Eastern mountains.
Thanks to the intricate spy network at the group's disposal Mizia had plenty of warning to prepare. She had planned to meet him in combat and kill him too, the skills she learned as Monk have only been sharpening since she joined the Monster Hunters. But a close friend of her's, an Emperyon woman named Ilga convinced her flee instead. The Damned Blades were criminals and only barely tolerated by the Kings and Lords because none of them wished to waste their precious armies fighting monsters. Killing a lord, even a stupid one would bring more fury upon their heads than the entire group could handle, so for the sake of her second home and new family Mizia fled in the night and her fellows in the Damned Blades simply told the lord she died fulfilling a contract. He swore and threatened, but his words fell on deaf ears and he reluctantly left.

For a further month in the opposite direction of the Lord, the Damned Bladewoman roamed from town to town selling her blade for some food and a place to sleep and moving on once her debt was repaid. It was during one of these times when she was first shanghaied into the clutches of the Sarbai slaver Jahood. Hired on as a merc, but was quickly forced into little more than a courtesan. Her reputation as a member of the Damned Blades saved her from being a party favor and whore, but she was still treated little better than property. And near the end of her slavery even her reputation couldn't save her from Jahood's lusts. He got handsy, and suggestive. But fate played her one final favor in the form of a huge Albanaigh hunter who scared the shit out of her master and freed her...before vanishing. She returned to her life as a freelance Damned Blade for a year until she found herself in the frozen town of Skye and pestering Iolaire into allowing her to pay back her life debt to him. So that night she gave him her virginity and became his trenchwife as the savage man calls her, even then she took his surname.