Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 08-16-2021 at 03:22 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Spoiler: Firefeather the Sharp-eyed of the Wildfire Clan
Name: Firefeather the Sharp-eyed of the Wildfire Clan
Age: 22
Gender(m/f): Female
Role: Follower
Clan: Wildfire
Element: Fire
Elemental Abilities(limit of 4)
Fire Fight: Feather can hurl fireballs and fire jets of flames from her hands. The fireballs are small bursts of Mana that can explode on contact and set things aflame. The Jets are a steady stream of fire that she can spray over a ten foot range, but because of the constant Mana drain she can't use it for more than a few seconds.
Fiery Claws: Her only short range attack. She can surround her hands with white hot flame and use them to burn through enemy defenses and weapons. It's a move that doesn't require much Mana to sustain since once alight the fire just does it's thing. But it requires a hefty does of Mana to start it.
Blazing Arrow: Working along the same principle as Fiery Claws she can set an arrow on fire. Instead of burning up the arrow like a normal fire would though, this ability enhances the arrows penetration power and explodes on contact. But the Mana cost is hefty to both start it and explode the arrow.
Firedome: In times of great need Feather can form a protective dome of fire around her to act as a shield. It has been known to deflect or absorb Skorne lasers. But it takes the largest toll of Mana to both use and maintain so her life really needs to be in danger for her to use it.
Secondary Element Ability(optional): None
Appearance and clothing(pic and/or description):
Spoiler: Firefeather
Feather is a lithe girl built for speed and mobility. Five foot five and weighing a bouncy 125lbs of long springy muscle. Under her gray painted skin is the smooth deep tan of a tribal girl who has spent many hours outside practicing her archery and endurance. Her eyes are the deep gray of burning green wood, and her hair is long sporting deep scarlet red mingling with black highlights and is normally kept free and flowing. Like all warriors in this day and age Feather's skin is peppered with many scars and signs of injury. Even a couple of laser burns from grazing Skorne shots. On the palm of her right hand is the tattoo of a dancing red flame to distinguish her clan.
Her clothing is pretty much the above, a protective cowl made from a raptor's skull and skin adorned with the animal's feathers which she also uses for fletching her arrows. Moving down she has shoulder pauldrons made from the skin of a dead baby rex tough enough for her but light and supple enough to not limit her movement. Her top is a simple supportive creation made from the skin of three dead compys she shot by accident one day. Her trousers were made from the body of an old Allosaurus she killed out of mercy so it wouldn't be alive when it got eaten. Lastly she wears a pair of boots given to her by Kaledra who was made to see the girl going barefoot into battle.
Weapons (limit of 3)
Bow and arrows: Her best and primary weapon. The hand-made bow in her picture made of a springy tree called Dinogut and adorned with rat skulls. It has a good range and this girl is dead on accurate with it.
Obsidian knife: More for utility than combat, but this obsidian blades weapons can be an effective tool of death.
Obsidian Axe: A new weapon given to her by Kaledra so she could learns her Clan's signature weapon and improve her melee skills.
Armor: Usually none, but when it's needed she done the rest of the leather armor that she made from the raptor that gave her the cowl. It's light and strong enough to take a few hits.
Special Gear: Arrow making kit, war paint, and a charm made by the Clan's Shaman, it's the eye of a Pterodactyl crystallized in amber, it's supposed to be the key to her keen archery skills.
Combat Abilities(limit of 4)
Archer: While not as good as the Twister Clan, Feather is a very good markswoman and can hit most targets even while moving. She can even fire multiple arrows at once if needed.
Quick-thinking: While not a genius Feather is very good at thinking on her feet.
Froggy fighter: Like her Chief, Feather has adopted an unorthodox style of fighting that allows her to dart around and escape bad spots so she can fire off some quick arrows.
Novice melee fighter: A skill she is learning to master, she is making good progress, but still wouldn't rely on it quite yet to save her life.
Mundane Abilities(limit of 3):
Flame's Agility: Firefeather is one of the most agile Wildfires in her clan, able to twist and dodge the claws of even top predators.
Survivor: One of the skills every Wildfire must master before they can count themselves among the hunters of the clan. From tracking to foraging Feather can do it all.
Fearless: Nothing scares Feather especially when she's with her Chief or on Tunka's back.
Dino(pic and/or description): Triceratops Who she's fondly named Tunka
Mana Cannon(y/n): No
Armor and special gear: Going down Tunka's back is a coat of bone, raptor claws, leather, and t-rex teeth armor. It protects him from even big predator's teeth and claws and turning the herbivore into a tank of spikes and fury. Those aside Tunka also has three large pouches hanging from his body so he could be used to haul needed supplies around the battlefield.
Abilities(limit of 4)
Charger: Using his most prominent weapons Tunka is a line buster and shock trooper to bust a hole into Skorne ranks opening things up to the others.
Quick: Despite being so stocky Tunka is very quick and agile for his size.
Defender: Tunka has a naturally protective instinct and often puts himself in danger to save someone.
Decisive: From years of being with Firefeather Tunka has picked up some of the girl's quick thinking and can adapt well to changing conditions.
Personality: Firefeather is an oddity in these troubled times of war. She's an optimistic and cheery girl, though capable of switching to all kinds of deadly and serious she is keen on keeping morale up when she can. And much to the annoyance of Chief Kaledra she's eager to learn everything she can even if it means latching onto the grim Ash Warrior and pestering her with inane questions. Asking about battle techniques, history, weapons, different dinosaurs anything she can think of. But she has a good honorable heart and does care deeply about her clan and winning this war.
Spoiler: History
Firefeather's parents are the picture of Wildfire life. Her father Flametooth, is the Clan's imminent Archery hunter and teacher. But an injury from a Skorne laser has retired the man to just the teaching aspect, but there isn't a young Hunter today that hasn't studied under the great warrior.
Her mother, Ember is the leader of the Clan's Gatherers. She knows every plant and almost every use it has whether it be for food, poisoning, healing, preserving, she can find it and use it. Now comes young Firefeather, a bright light in a usually grim and deadly world. Laughing, dancing, playing with the Camp Scavengers as well as kids her age. She didn't intend to really learn how to hunt or fight, but did it on her father's urging. At first it was just exercises and things to keep her out of everyone's hair, but as the Skorne conquered deeper into the Fire Clan's territory the exercises became life or death and she soon found enjoyment in the training and hard work. This love was even more solidified when she found Tunka while out hunting with her father. He was as young as she and his family had been killed by a Skorne raiding party, many Wildfires had predator mounts, but Feather and Tunka were fast friends and as he grew the usefulness of having a Triceratops around was made clear.
The pair grew and they began to cement themselves as line breakers and supply carries. Gaining renown, favor, and training their skills up to be one of the best in their clan. Fire was well on her way to possibly being the next Chief, but then her idol...Kaledra of Ash Mountain arrived and after a grizzly battle cost them their Chieftain and a tournament was held to find a new one. And the Ash warrior woman won it, and despite her personal wishes it also won her Firefeather's undying loyalty and a permanent student and sidekick in the young Archer. Now the new Chief can barely get out of her hut before Feather is there bright-eyed and bushy tailed ready to learn whatever the warrior woman wishes to teach. "Auntie Kaledra" as she calls the Ash Warrior is everything Firefeather wants to be. Strong, confident, caring to her friends and brutal to her enemies.
At this point many are used to the young woman bouncing around the Chief and even joke that Kaledra is more mother to Feather than her actual mother, and with four other young kids to keep track of Ember is ok with that most days. Now being nearly inseparable Firefeather was the first to come along with Kaledra as she heads for the meeting of the clans.
Other: "Hmm, I love the smell of the island in the early morning. Don't you Tunka?" A young woman astride a trike said patting the great beast's side. The Dino rumbled it's agreement chomping on a patch of grass and chewing it slowly. Feather smiled lightly sitting back in her saddle feeling the sea kissed breeze wash over her body.
They were out on sentry duty before the rest of the camp woke up and began their day. The family has grown quite a bit in recent years, with the extermination of the Scorch Clan, the Brushfire Clan, Ash Mountain Clan, and many more. So many cultures being brought into one group and forced to coexist because safety in numbers is the best way to beat the Skorne. And it's one of the few things the humans race has going for it...well that and their ability to launch fireballs out of their hands.
Looking down at her hand Firefeather summoned a small fireball and began rolling it around her hand like a clay ball. It was an amusing little trick she learned a few years back to entertain herself and her younger siblings on rainy days when they couldn't go outside. It wasn't as volatile as her fire fight ability, but the same basic idea. Summoning two more fireballs the young woman sat back placing her feet on the gently bobbing frill of Tunka's head and juggled them slowly trying to get the timing right. With one eye on her duty station and the other on the fireballs the girl managed to keep herself amused until a hail from the camp told her it was time to change guard. Returning the fire to her Mana she rousted her dozy Tunka and spun him around, Auntie Kaledra should be up by now maybe Feather could talk the Chief into starting lessons early today.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 02:39 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Name: Sebastian Grimm Age: 35 Gender and sexuality: Male and straight Race: Semi-immortal human
Appearance:
Spoiler: Captain Grimm
Captain Grimm is a stout man of above average height. 6 foot even and weighing a muscular 200 pounds from a hard life on the hard end of the Wizard's Capital City of Balefire on the continent of Eisignol and fighting armies across the globe. If scars could speak Sebastian would never need to utter a word.
His skin is rough and tanned from rarely knowing a roof over his head or most forms of luxury. His eyes are the dark blue of the clear night sky, his clothing is generally the above, but he has been known to go shirtless or dress up for meetings with finer company. And of course he has a long gray captain's coat.
As respectable as he can dress Sebastian's real appeal is the large myriad of scars and worn over wounds that cover his body from head to toe. Musket holes, blade wounds, severe burns, each one looking like it should've killed him, but somehow Captain Grimm has lived through it all. Some might think he has some latent Wizard blood in him that makes him tougher than your average man, others would say he's really a god down here in human form, but when asked Sebastian just says it wasn't his time to go.
Powers and/or talents:
Racial powers
Tough Bastard: Captain Grimm is one of the toughest bastards on the crew. He's lived through more horrors than even some of the more fantastical crewmembers can brag about.
Quick mind, quick hands: Living by the skin of your teeth and the strength of your arm gives you a certain level of wit and agility. Sebastian has taken this aspect and took it as high as he physically can.
Mundane talents
Leader: From running an urchin gang in Balefire, to fighting in a war for some puffed Wizard who didn't like how another puffed up Wizard looked, to taking over the Lazarus from the old Captain and leading the wild crew. Grimm knows how to lead and knows how to listen.
Sailor: As good at steering as he is swimming or running through the ropes. Sebastian knows his ship and sometimes takes over for some of the tired crewmates.
Fighter: Having learned you need to fight to survive Captain Grimm is a good fighter having long training in guns, melee and fist fighting.
Charm: A charming man known for his love of women as much as he is known for being such a good pirate.
Weapons:: Sebastian carries a pair of flint lock pistols, a blunderbuss, and the cutlass in the pic from old Captain Hilgard.
Personality: Captain Grimm is a man of well-placed confidence and the passion brought on by cheating death and never really knowing when his number was about to be called. He tries to live his life to the fullest he can each day. But one cannot play all day when lives are on the line. Reality has taught him this lesson at some grave cost. Though reluctant and with a push from his aquatic First Mate he takes his job seriously and knows the crew sometimes needs a leader more than it needs a friend.
Spoiler: History
Like many kids running around the slums of Balefire, Sebastian was an orphan and actually picked his own surname from an old book he read once. Spending his days thieving and his nights hiding from the law and the kid snatchers who were always hunting for young bloods to sell or shanghai. Whether for soldiers, slaves, or sex, kids with no parents and no one else giving a damn about them were easy pickings for these soulless cads.
Many of them learned early on to rely only on themselves and whatever friends they had managed to make. Street gangs formed shortly after and they began to take over the dirty streets. Sebastian was in one such gang, they called themselves the Dawn Street Guild and made existence passable for their fellow children. Sheltering the young ones, protecting the weak ones, and keeping the pretty ones out of the Snatchers' hands. He joined them young and was just a messenger going between their bases and those that gave them jobs for food that day, but as he aged his natural leadership and almost otherworldly toughness preceded his somewhat mundane appearance. Surviving a great fall from the roof of a horse stable, living through a Snatcher's blade plunging into his thigh, suffering a gunshot nearly into his heart. Nothing seemed to stop the young orphan and when he grew big enough to challenge the leader of his little gang, half the battle was won when Sebastian pulled his shirt off showing a lean body with scars and bruises peppering the young flesh. After that is was just a case of making the old boss trip over himself and fall off the roof where their base was set up.
That was the first day of a life of running, fighting, and killing. Under his rule the little gang turned into an actual Thieves Guild, while they kept their original name they didn't need to steal to eat...no they lived to steal! Good food, a warm base, and even some recruitment areas to bring in fresh blood. While they still plied their skills towards saving kids other operations began to take precedence. Eventually they got too big for their britches and brought on a Street Gang's worst nightmare...Seekers recruiting for the military. Unlike most other places "recruiting" in Eisignol was more being forced into service at the tip of a blade. The Dawn Street Guild was destroyed and many of the free spirited members were killed before they could be drafted. Sebastian wasn't as lucky, he fought the Seekers and took a few wounds, but nothing killed him, they just took the wind out of his sails and allowed someone to knock him out from behind.
He awoke an untold amount of time later in the stinking cargo-hold of a swaying ship, he was surrounded by young men and women around his age. Many of the girls were pretty, but no one seemed to notice. He knew some of them and the meek listless eyes were very far from what they normally were. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he noticed everyone even himself were wearing strange runic collars. Upon becoming fully awake he felt it's effects immediately. His mind was going fuzzy and gray, the shapes of his fellow captives became amorphous blobs, he was now a private in Lord Malkor's army.
His military career was much like that first day, a blur of pain, darkness, and blood. Eventually they removed the collars so soldiers could be smarter and more likely to win. But many spirits were already broken from the rigorous training so they were listless husks for life. Sebastian was for a time, but eventually he found his personality again. He played the drone for eight years, learning the skills, winning the wars, killing the other guy. But at twenty-five he was done with it, he'd collected more scars and extended his rep at being one tough S.O.B and that was enough for him, he killed his C.O. and ran into the sea never looking back. Five more years followed and in that time he eventually found himself in the good graces of one Captain Hilgard of the Lazarus. He'd joined the crew as a gunner, but quickly won the trust and some might say favor of the grizzled old seadog. It wasn't often old Captain Hilgard met someone as tough as him, but he found that kindred spirit in young Sebastian. They would drink for hours into the night and compare wounds and war stories, the younger sailor was happy for a change. But happiness is momentary, because Captain Hilgard was reaching the end of his life and a successor was needed. At first many of the crew, Grimm included, figured it would be his daughter Brigett that half fishchick. She was being trained for it and she had the tough iron fisted personality a good Captain needed.
This is why it was such a big surprise when Sebastian was given the old man's coat and sword. He accepted of course, but fishysticks was pissed so she was made First Mate as recompense. It worked and together they ran Lazarus well and racked in all the gold and power they now have.
Other: Captain Grimm is like any Pirate, he loves women and he loves being with women. But he's too wild for a solid relationship.
Spoiler: Younger Grimm
Name: Sebastian Grimm Race: Human Age: 32
Gender(M or F): Male P.o.B: Kirkwall, Free Marches Job: Captain of the Pirate ship, the Wave Marcher.
Class: Warrior Specialization: Swashbuckler
Natural abilities
Tough Bastard: Captain Grimm is one of the toughest bastards on the crew. He's lived through more horrors than even some of the more fantastical crewmembers can brag about.
Quick mind, quick hands: Living by the skin of your teeth and the strength of your arm gives you a certain level of wit and agility. Sebastian has taken this aspect and took it as high as he physically can.
Skills
Leader: From running an urchin gang in Kirkwall, to fighting in a war for some puffed Wizard who didn't like how another puffed up Wizard looked, to taking over the Wave Marcher from the old Captain and leading the wild crew. Grimm knows how to lead and knows how to listen.
Sailor: As good at steering as he is swimming or running through the ropes. Sebastian knows his ship and sometimes takes over for some of the tired crewmates.
Fighter: Having learned you need to fight to survive Captain Grimm is a good fighter having long training in ranged, melee and fist fighting.
Charm: A charming man known for his love of women as much as he is known for being such a good pirate.
Appearance(pic or description)
Spoiler: Captain Grimm
Captain Grimm is a stout man of above average height. 6 foot even and weighing a muscular 200 pounds from a hard life on the hard streets of Kirkwall in the Free Marches and fighting armies across the globe. If scars could speak Sebastian would never need to utter a word.
His skin is rough and tanned from rarely knowing a roof over his head or most forms of luxury. His eyes are the dark blue of the clear night sky, his clothing is generally the above, but he has been known to go shirtless or dress up for meetings with finer company. And of course he has a long gray captain's coat.
As respectable as he can dress Sebastian's real appeal is the large myriad of scars and worn over wounds that cover his body from head to toe. Magic spells injuries, blade wounds, severe burns, each one looking like it should've killed him, but somehow Captain Grimm has lived through it all.
Weapons(limit of 2, pic or description)
Master craft Cutlass: The sword he was given by his old Captain, it's a wonderfully made weapon from star metal.
Sling and stone: His favored ranged weapon is a tough elastic leather strap he flings smooth and extremely hard river stones from with deadly skill.
Armor(limit of 1, pic or description): None
Equipment(pic or description): When he has to walk on land he carries firemaking tools, water, some dried meat, spare clothes, and a sharpening stone.
Runes: A single rune of Devastation on his cutlass.
Personality: Captain Grimm is a man of well-placed confidence and the passion brought on by cheating death and never really knowing when his number was about to be called. He tries to live his life to the fullest he can each day. But one cannot play all day when lives are on the line. Reality has taught him this lesson at some grave cost. Though reluctant most times, he takes his job seriously and knows the crew sometimes needs a leader more than it needs a friend.
Spoiler: Background
Like many kids running around the slums of Kirkwall, Sebastian was an orphan with only the Grimm surname to go by for ancestry. Spending his days thieving and his nights hiding from the law and the kid snatchers who were always hunting for young bloods to sell or shanghai. Whether for soldiers, slaves, or sex, kids with no parents and no one else giving a damn about them were easy pickings for these soulless cads.
Many of them learned early on to rely only on themselves and whatever friends they had managed to make. Street gangs formed shortly after and they began to take over the dirty streets. Sebastian was in one such gang, they called themselves the Dawn Street Guild and made existence possible for their fellow children. Sheltering the young ones, protecting the weak ones, and keeping the pretty ones out of the Snatchers' hands. He joined them young and was just a messenger going between their bases and those that gave them jobs for food that day, but as he aged his natural leadership and almost otherworldly toughness preceded his somewhat mundane appearance. Surviving a great fall from the roof of a horse stable, living through a Snatcher's blade plunging into his thigh, suffering a fireball to the chest. Nothing seemed to stop the young orphan and when he grew big enough to challenge the leader of his little gang, half the battle was won when Sebastian pulled his shirt off showing a lean body with scars and bruises peppering the young flesh. After that is was just a case of making the old boss trip over himself and fall off the roof where their base was set up.
That was the first day of a life of running, fighting, and killing. Under his rule the little gang turned into an actual Thieves Guild, while they kept their original name they didn't need to steal to eat...no they lived to steal! Good food, a warm base, and even some recruitment areas to bring in fresh blood. While they still plied their skills towards saving kids other operations began to take precedence. Eventually they got too big for their britches and brought on a Street Gang's worst nightmare...Guards recruiting for the military. Unlike most other places "recruiting" in Kirkwall was more being forced into service at the tip of a blade. The Dawn Street Guild was destroyed and many of the free spirited members were killed before they could be drafted. Sebastian wasn't as lucky, he fought the Guards and took a few wounds, but nothing killed him, they just took the wind out of his sails and allowed someone to knock him out from behind.
He awoke an untold amount of time later in the stinking cargo-hold of a swaying ship, he was surrounded by young men and women around his age. Many of the girls were pretty, but no one seemed to notice. He knew some of them and the meek listless eyes were very far from what they normally were. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he noticed everyone even himself were wearing strange runic collars. Upon becoming fully awake he felt it's effects immediately. His mind was going fuzzy and gray, the shapes of his fellow captives became amorphous blobs, he was now a private in Lord Malkor's army.
His military career was much like that first day, a blur of pain, darkness, and blood. Eventually they removed the collars so soldiers could be smarter and more likely to win. But many spirits were already broken from the rigorous training so they were listless husks for life. Sebastian was for a time, but eventually he found his personality again. He played the drone for eight years, learning the skills, winning the wars, killing the other guy. But at twenty-five he was done with it, he'd collected more scars and extended his rep at being one tough S.O.B and that was enough for him, he killed his C.O. and ran into the sea never looking back. Five more years followed and in that time he eventually found himself in the good graces of one Captain Hilgard of the Wave Marcher. He'd joined the crew as a spotter, but quickly won the trust and some might say favor of the grizzled old seadog. It wasn't often old Captain Hilgard met someone as tough as him, but he found that kindred spirit in young Sebastian. They would drink for hours into the night and compare wounds and war stories, the younger sailor was happy for a change. But happiness is momentary, because Captain Hilgard was reaching the end of his life and a successor was needed. At first many of the crew, Grimm included, figured it would be his daughter Brigett. She was being trained for it and she had the tough iron fisted personality a good Captain needed.
This is why it was such a big surprise when Sebastian was given the old man's coat and sword. He accepted of course, but Brigett was pissed and promptly left the crew after her father's death. So after getting over losing that wonderful ass and fun sex he and Brigiett had he found some new crew and called them Grimm's Reapers. Cast off wretches, former soldiers, anyone he thought would help his crew be the best of the best.
Other: Captain Grimm is like any Pirate, he loves women and he loves being with women. But he's too wild for a solid relationship.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 04-03-2018 at 02:21 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Name: Matriarch Izrail of the Broken Cross Age: 414 Gender: Female
Appearance(pic and description)
Spoiler: Izra
Izrail, like many of Azrael's Disciples was long dark hair and is of a pale complexion. She's about 5'10, and has the firm well-formed face of an attractive woman in her late twenties. She normally keeps her hair bound up in a simple ponytail. She's reserved and no frills kind of woman and it permeates her entire form even reaching her steel-grey eyes usually hidden behind the dark blue lenses of her glasses.
She usually dresses in comfortable woman's clothing of the day. Dresses, jeans, blouses and boots, she's lived too long and seen too many trendy fashions to even bother keeping up with them. But when she's on mission her attires is the usual tactical armor of the Broken Cross complete with protective wards and a long blessed brown leather coat from her days in the old west.
Her body is the picture of physical fitness. And despite many lifetimes of hunting and fighting monsters she has very few scars or imperfections to show. It's considered a compliment to not only her fighting skills, but her common sense and careful dedication to her work. She weighs a healthy 135lbs and dedicates many hours a day to keeping herself in this state. It has saved her life and the lives of her comrades so many times that it is second nature to her.
Race: Immortal Human Job: Hunter for the Order of the Broken Cross
Racial Skills and Abilities
Divinely Blessed: Granted the gift of immortality by the Christian God, Izrail stopped aging at 20 when the Lord saved her from death after killing some Hunter that had set fire to her town's Church. And while not at the levels of superhuman she has enhanced strength and psychic abilities.
Magical Resistance: As expected she is immune to Black or Demon Magic and Spiritual Attacks. And because of her own psychic power she is even immune to mind attacks.
Strength: The size of her strength is the level of many professional weightlifters and is directly relative to the size of the meal she ate before the event in question. A big meal will give her enough strength to punch through thick metal or stone. A Medium meal will let her punch through thick wood or normal walls. A small meal or snack will allow her to match the punching power of a professional Boxer.
Psychic Powers: A power given to her by her mistress, the Archangel Azrael. As the Angel of Death nothing is hidden from her. But while reading minds, telekinesis, and warping visions is easy, Izrail is unable to actually control someone that way.
Eyes of Truth: While her powers over the Mind can't force anyone's will, when Izrail removes her blue lenses glasses her eyes bore into the soul of anyone she looks at and compels them to be truthful to her, lying is impossible with a combination of her Psychic powers and her Eyes of Truth.
Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)
Battle Master: Izrail has lived a very long time and has reached the highest peak of many combat disciplines. Guns, hand-to-hand combat, melee combat, and technology.
Lore Master: Having written many of the reports on monsters found throughout the world herself. Izrail is a walking encyclopedia of the monsters; where to find them, how to kill them, and how to defend against them.
Lawwoman: Having actually served as a Sheriff and police officer many times in her life Izrail is well versed on every law in the world and could even be a lawyer or judge if she wanted.
Actual Priest: Along with her many combat skills and abilities tied in with Monster Hunting, Izrail is a fully ordained Priest. This comes with all the duties and training needed for such an office, she can marry anyone, bless anyone, hold Mass, preside over Funerals, take and be trusted with Confession.
Spoiler: Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)
Being a Matriarch means Izrail doesn't go out in the field much anymore, and when she does it usually means bring a few guns, full armor, and a talisman that allows her to speak with her superiors for quick reinforcements and special intel, because bad things have already happened and needs to be fixed.
But she still carries her old colts in a double holster around her waist more out of habit than necessity.
And her last piece of ever present gear is a soft leather bracelet with nine charms braided in that represent each main Archangel and her own mistress. Each charm has it's own power given to Izrail by them.
Sword of Micheal: This charm gives her enhanced martial skills and strength.
Axe of Samael: This charm makes Izrail immune to all kinds of poisons and temptation.
Scroll of Uriel: This charm gives Izrail a greater level of intelligence and wisdom.
Gavel of Raguel: This charm gives Izrail the ability to judge the damned and calm most heated discussions with a single word.
Eye of Ramiel: This charm gives Izrail super vision.
Chalice of Saraqael: This charm gives Izrail the ability to speak with anyone or anything.
Rod of Raphael: This charm allows Izrail the ability to heal many wounds.
Horn of Gabriel: This charm amplifies Izrail's sense of hearing and can allow her to increase the volume of her own voice.
Scythe of Azrael: As it is inappropriate to take the Angel's name as your own, she chose one of his names for her's. This charm allows Izrail to induce fear and potential death in an opponent.
Armor(one sensible suit of armor): She usually wears an enchanted long leather coat around the Order's HQ, but when going on mission she dresses in specially made holy armor that protects her from most kinds of conventional damage.
Equipment: An iron crucifix at all times, but when on mission extra ammo, extra clothing, her communication talisman, fire making tools, and weapons maintenance items.
Augs(Limit of 3): N/A
Personality: Despite looking like a young woman, Izrail is a walking embodiment of an old soul trapped in a young body. She's old-fashioned, respectful, fair-minded, but also tough as nails and has a definitive no nonsense cut to her walk and her words.
Likes: Her Order, her religion, America, fighting evil, apples, and helping others. Dislikes: Evil, monsters, being forced behind a desk because of her high-up rank and not living by the Code of the Order.
Spoiler: Background:
She was born with the name Ruth during the early days of Colonial America. If he remembered right she came over with the Plymouth pilgrims, she was married to one of the Blacksmiths, a man named Hamish and served as his Assistant when the other Settlers were convinced he was a servant of the Devil for his skill with fire and metal.
They were both young, but they were also both very strong. They fought on through the harsh winters and hostile landscape, and eventually their home was set in stone and the village was flourishing. Despite the stigma attached to Blacksmiths, Ruth and her Hamish were both deeply devout Christians and it was this power of Faith that actually made Ruth what she is today. It was their fifth winter in this settlement, and they were enjoying the bounty of a good harvest and good fortune with the other villagers. Songs were sung, food was plentiful, and unfortunately drink was flowing. Normally alcohol was saved for Christmas and Easter, but the Elders decided this feast was such a great blessing from the Lord that it needed all they could put into it. Now along with the residents, they were playing host to some lost Hunters from another settlement.
Everyone in the village knew not to drink too much, but these Hunters were very rough men of the woods. They had forsook the teachings of the Almighty about moderation and indulged themselves whenever the opportunity presented itself. The Elders wouldn't have let them enter the village if they had known this ahead of time, but they couldn't just kick them out once the men had sat down and broke bread with the Townspeople. So they would all just have to endure the men's' scandalous humor and terrible manners.
Sadly the Hunters made it harder with each passing minute, they broke plates, swore, and even insulted some of the others, but the last straw came when one of the Hunters decided he took a liking to the Blacksmith's wife. Ruth was unfortunate enough to be sitting next to the man, he had been saying lewd things under his breath to her the entire night. She asked him to stop, but men during this time were not used to being told no by a woman so he continued. She scooted as close to Hamish as she could pleading with her eyes for him to stop the man, but he was already a black sheep amongst the villagers and didn't want to make it worse by starting trouble with their guests.
The Hunter continued and he went too far when he grabbed Ruth around the waist and tried to force her to kiss him, then Hamish struck. The Blacksmith was one of the biggest and strongest men in the village, but he was also the most gentle of disposition. Which is why when he jumped between Ruth and the Hunter, and drove his fist into the man's nose, before lifting the cretin fully off the ground and smashing him through the dinner table, shock rather than horror filled the faces of the townspeople. Hamish showed the most shock, he had never actually hurt anyone before. The Elders were the first to speak, they ordered a Healer be brought in to tend to the Hunter and everyone else was to clear out and go to their homes until they decided what to do with all of this.
Ruth quickly ushered her shaking husband back to their home and did her best to soothe him. The Elders' decision came a day or so after the dinner, they decided the Hunters were at fault and with the wounded hunter cleared. Were banished from the village and sent back to their original settlement marked as enemies of the Word of God, this was joyous news for Ruth and Hamish, but the joy wouldn't last. The Hunters were indeed very bad men, during the high of summer they returned to the village with a small army of their fellow denizens of the forest. They broke into the village and set it ablaze, they looted whatever valuables they could get, destroyed the crops, and stole away whatever woman they could grab for their own twisted pleasures.
It was the smoke that actually awoke the Blacksmith and his wife, being around it all the time they knew the difference between the smoke of the Forge and the smoke of a building burning down. Dressing quickly the pair of them rushed to and fro waking and gathering the townsfolk before doing their best to guide them away from the inferno. The pair had just ushered what they thought were the last people out of the village, but one of the people told them they thought they had seen some people rush into the Church, and they ran back into the fire to see if it were true. As if playing some cruel joke the Hunters had saved the Church to burn last. Hamish and Ruth arrived just in time to see the man Hamish had attacked set the torch to the roof.
With a bellow of rage Hamish rushed to the men and swung one of their axes like an Avenging Angel, he dashed away the fire and then turned the heavy tool on the defilers. He struck two down, but it had given the rest of the men time to jump back and notch arrows. Before Hamish could take another down with him he was shot full draw by six crow feathered arrows. But the Blacksmith wouldn't go down planting himself refused to fall even as a further three shafts were shot into his knees and stomach. This time he dropped, but Ruth was there and using a sickle she had picked up cut the men down, she took two arrows herself for the trouble, one in her heart the other through her shoulder. But her rage was too keen she didn't stop until the men were dead. As the life left the last monster's eyes she was at Hamish's side holding him tightly to her body, Death was upon them, but with their last breaths they swore their love for each other and said the Lord's prayer. And as she died in her husband's arms the Lord God brought her before the Throne and given the choice of eternal life and happiness in Heaven or endure more pain and sorrow as she continued on as a Priest of the Broken Cross. But like the others of the Order she would be rewarded with getting back the life she once had for the remainder of a normal human lifespan. She gladly agreed and went with what little money she could gather back to Europe and into the Order of the Broken Cross.
Other: She was married once, and has been promised another chance at love once the Lord Almighty deems her tasks complete.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 02:42 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Spoiler: Chief Thorg Whitegale of the Twister Clan
Name: Thorg Whitegale of the Twister Clan
Age: 40
Gender(m/f):Male
Role: Chief
Clan: Twister
Element: Wind
Elemental Abilities(limit of 4)
Vortex: Using long tendrils of Mana, Thorg can spin his arms and body around and create a powerful and damaging twister that can knock enemies down, throw them away, and send ships off their flight plans.
Wind Punch: Summoning a dense column of wind behind him Thorg can use it like a battering ram and punch a hole through soft enemies or send armored ones off their feet. The bigger the enemy though or the quicker it's moving the more Mana it takes and once it's thrown he can't change it's direction.
Gusting Veil: Taking only a small amount of Mana, Chief Whitegale can create sandstorms or dirtstorms that can blind his foes.
Levitation: Throg has mastered a rare skill even among the Twister Clan. He can lift himself off the ground and actually fly across the earth without his feet even touching the ground. It has taken him twenty year to do so and he can't go much higher than five feet off the ground. But his speed is great and he can keep it going for ten minutes solid, but on minute eleven he'd drop like a rock and be good as dead.
Secondary Element Ability(optional): Light.
Whitegale: This is his most respected skill and his namesake upon being named Chief of the Twister Clan as a young man. Using a massive dose of Mana he can create a chaotic shield of white wind around himself and others that protects from even Skorne Lasers. But it requires an equally massive dose of Mana to keep it going so it can quickly kill him.
Appearance and clothing(pic and/or description):
Spoiler: Chief Whitegale
A powerful man, 5'11 in height with 210 pounds of thick rolling muscle. Despite being what could be considered old age in this age Thorg dedicates himself to keeping his body and mind fit. Being able to routinely match many of the remaining young warriors in his clan and overcome them.
His hair is thick and brown, but has streaks of gray going across his entire scalp. His eyes...well his good eye is an intimidating gray, but his left eyes is clouded white from an old injury from before the Skorne invasion. With scars a plenty to display Thorg can usually be found wearing a vest and trouser made of raptor feathers or armor made from the hide of a Brontosaurus glazed with amber. Like many of his clan he goes barefoot though unless the ground dictates otherwise across his back is a large tattoo in the shape of a Twister.
Weapons (limit of 3): Thorg carries three weapons with him at all times.
Stone Axe: The weapon in the picture, it's a heavy tool, but his years of training with have given him more than enough skill to make up for it's weight.
Obsidian machete: His most prized weapon, it was gift given him by the last Chief of the Blaze Clan. He had saved the man's life only to have him lose it a moonstime later. Thorg had much respect for the man and keeps this blade close at all times to remember his friend by.
Sling and stones: While he has always been a bit to big and clumsy to master the elegance of the bow and arrow, his strong arm and one good eye make him quite deadly with this leather sling and the flat river stones he hurls from it.
Armor: Armor slows him down in normal life, but when going into a battle he knows will be bad he straps on a suit made of Brontohide that protects him from many melee attacks and has been known to shrug of glancing Skorne bolts.
Special Gear: He carries a pouch for his slingstones and keeps a firemaking kit on him for dark nights.
Combat Abilities(limit of 4)
Brute: Thorg is a strong and aggressive fighter. He crushes enemies under mighty blows from his club.
Slinger: The Chief is deadly accurate at short distance with his sling and with enough time he can adapt his single eye to kill at greater range.
Chain-fighter: Thorg has a skill for chaining many attacks together in a blurring dance of death. Once he is on a roll it is hard to stop his wild and powerful strikes.
Planner: While decent at making plans on the fly, he much prefers to have things planned out before an operation is set into motion.
Mundane Abilities(limit of 3):
Hunter: A prevalent skill among the Twisters, Whitegale is a fair hunter even if he and old Broketooth are sometimes too slow to catch everything.
Firemaker and cook: A skill he thinks everyone should have. Thorg is skilled firemaker and a decent cook.
Wind-talking: How the Twister Clan communicates with each other over a fair distance. Using their power over the wind they can send whispered messages between hunting parties and war parties. While the optimum distance is only 100 yards, with enough time this range can extend to over 300, but more often than not after the 100 mark the message becomes too quiet and muddled to be very useful.
Armor and special gear: Broketooth is an old dino, and not as fast as he once was he wears a sturdy cloak of bone and leather armor along with Thorg's saddle and cargo bags.
Abilities(limit of 4):
Runner: Despite his age Broketooth is a very fast mover. He can cover a lot of ground in not a lot of time, but he can't make as quick turns like he used to.
Hunter: Being one of nature's most perfect hunters, Broketooth lives up to every aspiration expected of an Achillobator. Hunting in packs, disabling before killing, and fighting for his prey.
Strong arms and claws: The perfect tools for hunting or war, Broketooth's arms and claws can latch onto and hold nearly anything.
Senses: While dulled somewhat by age, Broketooth still has keen senses which have saved not only his life, but the life of his Alpha.
Personality: Thorg is a man of the people. He's humble, compassionate, and loyal to his people and wife, children, and grandchildren. He sees himself as a symbol as well as Chief, he had to be tough, he had to be level-headed, he had to put the Clan before himself. And while he would never show it, he had a painful feeling of being a caged beast, dancing for the smiles and applause but secretly yearning for the freedom of being a normal hunter in his tribe. It's a feeling every Twister has, they are children of the Wind and the Wind never likes being restricted.
Broketooth has more of a lazy cat personality, he doesn't do much unless he really wants to or Thorg compels him. Much of the old Dino's day is spent hunting small animals and warming up in the sun. Unless the Twister children are playing around him, then he's more like a dog though, always watching for danger.
Spoiler: History
Thorg was born during a time of peace for the Nature Lords. The Forest Protectors were far inland undergoing one of their religious pilgrimages, the Mountain Diggers were far underground following a vein of metal, and the Shadow Stalkers were sleeping in the dark tunnels abandoned by the Mountain Diggers. Many had said this peace would last for ever the former Chief included.
Thorg's early years only had the barest teachings any youth would get. How to hunt, how to gather, and how to ride. Actually learning to fight and survive were far from their minds and the minds of the Elders. This lackadaisical ideal life wasn't meant to last though, Thorg was turning ten when this happened. A large comet had crashed into the plains and sent up clouds of dust that brought darkness and cold that covered the land, normally the flat plains with very little cover were left alone by the Shadow Stalkers who can't stand the sun. But with the arrival of the the seemingly endless night came the monsters mothers tell their children about so they don't go exploring caves or dark places.
It was only the paranoia of the elders that saved them from total slaughter. Sentries saw shadows moving through the gloom and even managed to sound the alarm before the monsters tore them to bits. Already on edge the clan's few hunters and warriors were ready in seconds and charged out to meet the Stalkers. Thorg hid in his parents' hut, but could hear everything going on outside. The howling wind of the Twisters' attacks meeting the snarls and gnashing teeth of the bulky Shadows as they fought against the Wind. Hiding under the hides his father skinned a few days ago the young boy sat for hours listening to the carnage as it ripped through the camp. He must've fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again there was a profound silence. At first he thought he must've gone deaf, he could only feel the pumping of his heart in his ears. But as he crawled out of his hiding place he heard the rustling of his clothing and the hides as he moved. Moving slower than he ever had Thorg eventually poked his head out and saw the bloody and smoking battlefield illuminated by the sun trying to penetrate the clouds and the dying bodies of cooking fires.
The smell of death was horrendous and every step squished underfoot. He saw many dead Twisters, but more dead Shadow Stalkers, this made the boy smile, but the smile left when he saw his mother among the dead. She had squared off with a Shadow Stalker and managed to cleave the monster with it's own obsidian blade. Tears trickled down his young face, but the firm hand of this father steeled him and from that day the young man took a keen interest in training himself to be a fighter of the people. And he wasn't alone, the remaining elders decided they must never be caught unprepared like this again and with the Chief's backing changed the whole Twister Clan around building Warriors Father Wind would be proud of. They trained themselves then went on a march eliminating threats they first thought to leave well enough alone. Stalker Hives, Forester traps, and troublesome dinosaurs who might see to make a meal out of the Clan.
It was on one of these extermination raids that Thorg found Broketooth. He was a young alpha filled with fire and piss. Each member of the raid had one dino to seek and kill, and Broketooth was for Thorg. He had already earned his place as a skilled warrior and this was to be his last test of manhood. The young raptor was ready to kill and Thorg was ready to win, using his magic he kept the wild claws at bay and eventually clubbed Broketooth upside the head knocking him out and giving him his name because the final blow broke a tooth on the left side of the Dino's muzzle. From then on they were a deadly duo quickly becoming the top warriors and when the former Chief was killed in a Forest Protector ambush they became the leaders of the Twister Clan. All the tender age of 25 and on his 30th birthday he led his clan through the first of the Skorne incursions. And on the fourth decade of his life he is leading the last of the Wind Clans working to ensure they stay alive long enough to rebuild.
Spoiler: Other
"But Grandfather! The boys get to go play! Why can't we?" Says a brown-haired young girl standing in the middle of a dirt circle dressed in a short leather top and loincloth holding a staff limply in her dirty hand. Next to her was a slightly older girl with blond hair with a small bra and loincloth, her staff was resting on her narrow shoulder this girl was rubbing her sore jaw slowly. Her whines were directed at a large man seated on the ground with his back against the feathery flank of a large raptor.
The dino rumbled lazily as the man slowly working himself up to his feet using a larger staff to aid him. As he reached his full height and stabbed the blunt weapon into the dirt the two girls dropped their eyes and shrunk back a little as if expecting him to yell. But he never did, this was Chief Thorg Whitegale and learned long ago the gift of silence and soft speaking.
"The boys did their training this morning whilst you and Breeze went down with the other girls to the swimming hole. Now it is your turn young Swiftcloud, straighten your back and return to your side of the ring. And Breeze the more you rub that the quicker it will swell up, use your greater height to keep Swift from getting past your defense. Remember how young Zephyr Wild-Gust dealt with Windstorm when she was being forced into marriage."
He smiled seeing the storm return to his two Granddaughters' eyes. Like many young girls in the Twister Clan these two idolized Zephyr. She was the great warrior queen big sister they all wanted especially when some boys got to being too big for their trousers. He has been doing what he can to keep infighting down, but it was a fine line to walk as Chief. You can't show more favor to one side over the other it was his teetering off that line that actually led to the debacle of Zephyr's marriage. The clan still had too few members and many girls were expected to find a husband and start forming families as soon as they were able which was thirteen years of life. After the fallout from that Thorg throttled back on the policy and let the young ones choose what to do. Some still married and became very good mothers and fathers, while others like Zephyr continued training to be warriors and hunters. The young girls returned to their sides of the training ring and stretched a little waiting for his command.
Crossing his arms he looked out across the camp to make sure no trouble was coming their way, before looking between his granddaughters and gave a short bark.
"Fight!"
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 02:44 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Spoiler: High Priest Hafiz-Ra of the Khabala Ogdu'jahad
Name: Hafiz-Ra
Titles or Ranks: High-Priest of the Khabala Ogdu'jahad,
Race: Tal-Hussar
Age: 30,050 (he was cast into an outer realm inhabited by Daemons by his father)
Appearance:
Spoiler: Hafiz-Ra
Hafiz is the epitome of the ideal Tal-Hussar male. Tall( 6'3) and strong with a respectable weight (180lbs of muscle). His skin is a deep tan which is greatly accented by his thick black beard and deep eyes that glow with an ever-changing magical fire.
His body is marred by the the many runic tattoos he was branded with during his stay in the realm of Daemons. They number 365 in total and each marks his total mastery of a school of magic. From the Elements, to Necromancy, to mental manipulation, to ripping the masks off the face of the Gods and laughing at them. His outfit is the same as above it was a relic left behind by his father Anysf before the Shattering. It enhances his already impressive magic potency to nearly the same level as his father.
Weapons: Hafiz's only has two weapons that he carries at all times. The first is the staff of the Daemon King, it was gifted to him after he bested the King's best fighters in magical combat. It fires bolts of pure magical force and allows him to increase the power of all his spells.
His next weapon is the powerful Mind Scroll that allows him to control the minds of all but the strongest of wills, those he usually kills after they resist.
Creed: Ansyf will live again!
Personality: Like his father Hafiz is a charismatic and determined leader, unlike him though he is not driven solely by ultimate magical power. He is looking to amass real global power using his intelligence and knowledge of the magic. He is ruthless to opposition and unstoppable in his goal to bring his father back and complete his ascent to godhood.
Skills and Talents:
Master of 365 forms of Magic: Trained be Daemons and gifted with potent inherent magic. Hafiz is the greatest Wizard alive today. The training has also gifted him with a strong enough mind to not be driven mad by all the spells he knows.
Bladesmen: Also learned from his time in the Daemon Realm, Hafiz a highly skilled swordsmen. Can rival many of the sword masters of the Rift.
Statesmen: With a deadly mix of charm, intelligence, and great political influence Hafiz is the type of leader that men flock to follow even if this means they will be killed.
Powerful Fighter: Believing in being well-rounded, Hafiz has also learned to use his great strength in Martial Arts, learning every form the Daemons could teach him.
Banes: Hafiz's weakness is his goal. It makes him suffer from tunnel vision at times, and despite his skillful plans he has been known to forget the little people that helped him and those he's ignored for not being a big enough threat.
Biography: Mystery
RP Sample: More mystery!
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 02:45 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
What is best in life? To crush your enemies. See them driven before you. Hear the lamentations of their women.
Name: Mizia of the Damned Blades
Race: Shenkai.
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Visage:
Spoiler: Mizia
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 monster 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.
Temperament: As a rule the Damned Blades are fatalists. They are pulled from prisons all around the world and trained to fight the most horrific creature 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
Skills
Greater Skills: Shenkai specific Monster lore and melee fighting.
Lesser Skills: Poison making, ranged fighting, and survival
Cultural Skills: Martial Arts, Dancing, and Etiquette.
Faith: Mizia is one who believes in Fate's Hand and doesn't expect it to deal her any favors.
Spoiler: Origin
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 the Heron’s Flight two years ago. A corrupt Shenkai lord looking to impose his will upon her. At twenty-three 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, a Skjanos 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 then the entire order 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 equally damned wretches of the Heron’s Flight. She was used to hard work, having spent most of her life doing it, but a she-devil with a whip was new to her and even with her training as a monk and fatalist attitude gathered from the Damned Blades she wasn't happy to endure the experience. But for two years she kept her head down and just did as she was told, not letting this newest shit hand dealt her to break her. She's been through bad before, and bad never lasts forever even if death is the only release.
Spoiler: Mizia Sealgiar
Name: Mizia Sealgair Age: 28 Gender: Female
Appearance(pic and description)
Spoiler: Mizia
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.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 03-11-2019 at 05:12 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Being a son of the mountainous region of Narok, Agamor is a stout man weighing a muscular 190 pounds, but only slightly above average height at 5'10. His hair is a unique color of steel gray found in the more isolated regions of his homeland. Like all Witchers, his cat-like eyes are bright amber and his skin is fair showing the long life of a Witcher. Marred by scars and blemishes Agamor is a Battle Mage through and through. His clothing is usually as above, a thick robe to ward off the cold and under it a suit of fine leather armor.
Equipment: Agamor's armor reflects his role as Griffin among the Witchers. His robes are heavy and bare a basic enchantment that increased their defensive capabilities. But his leather armor is just leather good against mundane weapons and some claws of smaller monsters.
His weapons are simple but highly versatile. His primary weapon is the staff in the pic. It's six feet long and sports a crooked head made of a fine steel. It's great for delivering enough blunt force trauma to man to rival the cruel slash of a blade.
While beating people to death with a steel stick can be fun, for monsters another type of weapon is needed. For this Agamor carries a foot and a half long basket-hilt broad sword made of silver. It's a lethal but elegant in its design and its purpose.
Lastly he carries a simple steel dagger at his waist, utilitarian and handy.
Background(skill-set): Witcher of the Griffin School. He is strong in the skills of Signs, Alchemy, Falconry, and Staff Fighting.
Spoiler: Bio
The story of Agamor of Rakverelin begins over a century ago on a mountainside above Rakverelin. His parents were simple farmers, but of them he remembers very little. Agamor was a surprise child for Drusia, the boy's original father had lots of trouble with monsters raiding his farm and killing the crops and livestock. He hired the old Griffin to handle it, but the work took more time and cost more than either man anticipated. As as result Agamor was offered up as payment, it didn't sit well with his mom, but in the end Agamor was handed over and immediately began training as a Griffin.
Those early years were tough, and Drusia was a mean bastard and a strict master. Many years later it was decided this early training was what set Agamor on the path of being such an overachiever and want to outdo everyone. Deep down just trying to prove to make Drusia proud, and it's likely the old bastard is proud but he'll never admit to it. Now after all the training and the trial of grasses Agamor was made a full Witcher and dove right into the deep end, fighting many monsters that would be over his level to defeat and while he lost many contracts some he won by sheer luck, but each one added to his experiences and soon he was able to take out things his peers were just scraping by on.
The Griffin's upward trajectory continued from there. In a few years he was quickly reaching the top of his school. But arrogance has a way of biting the hand that wields it. Agamor's first backhand came when he tried to challenge his adoptive father for the leadership of the Griffin School. Needless to say he was beaten before he even drew his staff. Drusia unleashed such a fluid flow of Signs that young Agamor was beaten in seconds and hospitalized for a month even with the toughness of a Witcher on his side. It was probably all that saved him from death. He learned part of his lesson that time though, but he tried again and again, each time was crushing defeat. But he improved each time and eventually time and enough scars and beatings cooled his head and he stopped trying. But anyone that knows him would say he's just buying his time until he knows he can beat old Drusia.
Now at 104 he is the second best Griffin in the school and a veteran of not only monster hunts, but a number of wars that broke out around him. He did his damnedest to avoid them and maintain the Witchers political neutrality, but politics are a cancer that no one is safe from for very long. He fought, he won, and he was paid that was his entire career and what allowed him to avoid more wars and politics by traveling ever further away from centers of conflict. Going after monsters in remote areas and spending weeks or months living off the land. It was on one such contract that he met a long time companion, Hooty, a great horned owl. He was hunting down an Alp that had been harassing a small village out in Aedirn. Alps were dangerous, but with enough planning they can bring in healthy paydays. And Agamor always planned, he was trekking through the woods looking for the long lost cemetery the creature was said to live in. All day he hunted and when night settled down he decided to camp out near the only cemetery he found and wait for the creature to show itself.
No fire, no tent, just Agamor wrapped up in a blanket eating hardtack. He didn't intend to sleep, but it came to him and it would've been longer than usual had a nearby Owl not screeched overhead and awoken him just before the Alp sunk her fangs into him. He quickly blasted it with and Igni Sign before diving into it with his sword killing it on the spot. After that he tossed the owl some dried meat and found the creature receptive to him. Obviously it was pet for someone somewhere so it had no fear of man or Witcher. Ever since he and Hooty have been watching each others' back, the owl even earned a simple blowfish charm necklace for saving Agamor's life again. They are still going strong and are still the best of companions.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 02:47 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Name: Master Nelar
Age: 46
Gender:female
Race: Mage/ Puppet Master
Sexuality: Straight
Weapons/Strengths:Weapons consist of a simple long sword and enchanted flute that turns people into her puppets but only works for a short time on strong minded people.
Weaknesses: Fire and break the flute break her magic until she can make a new one.
Personality: She is wise beyond her years but a little stuffy. Being a Puppet master takes being stuffy so you don't miss a single detail in making her minions everything must be right or the whole thing could turn against you the minute you put life to it
History: Her family has always been in the Floating City her Grandfather even runs the Puppet Master Mage collage training others in the subtle art of the Mastery of animate and inanimate objects with flutes. She rose up to the master rank and is now one of the most prominent teachers of the Puppet Master Discipline. Right now she's traveling trying to establish interest in the dying art.
Appearance: Avge height and body nice curves and short brown hair with silver streaks. She's usually dressed in a blue and red vest with match pants and simple brown boots she has a solid black leather belt where she hangs her sword, flute, and other accessories she needs in her travels.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Name: Ra-Zar
Age: 40
Race: Dolg Gramar
Gender: Male
Orientation: Hetero
Class: Hunter
Appearance:
Spoiler: Ra-Zar
A prime example of a young Gramar, Zar is over 7 feet tall and boasting 500 pounds of scales and muscle. His solid muscular body is covered in brown and tan colored scales many marred by old wounds and years of wear and tear in the wilderness.
Like his father Zar has a head almost shaped like a dragons and piercing golden eyes that continuously roam an area and bore into the souls of those he meets. His teeth and claws are long and very sharp and his tail is long and very powerful able to either support his entire body or make a frightful impromptu club. Being from the desert Ra-Zar doesn't wear much in the way of clothing a loincloth for modesty whilst in the Zendari Wastes, but outside his homeland he has been seen in sturdy clothing to defend against the cold.
Equipment
Ancestral Truncheon: An old weapon made out of petrified wood. It was all he had from his time with his clan before they were wiped out. Considered one if his prized possessions.
Obsidian knife: A simple tool made of bone and obsidian. Useful in combat, but primarily used as a hunter's tool.
Magic: None
Skills
Major Skill: Tracking, being a highly skilled Hunter Ra-Zar's tracking abilities are to the level of the Fenanthre Elite Hunters. He can follow scents many days old and spot even the most minuet disturbances in the landscape.
Minor Skills: Survival, going hand in hand with tracking Zar can survive in any wilderness you can drop him in.
Combat, even hunters need to learn to fight. And being from a culture of warriors Ra-Zar knows how to fight with most melee weapons as well as his body.
Personality: Ra-Zar is like many of his people. A noble but savage warrior, bound by honor and an ingrained sense of fairness. When a weaker opponent faces him he is reluctant to give them his all because he thinks the one facing him would never stand a chance.
This has bitten him a few times, but usually it proves true. Those that insist on challenging him were swatted down like flies while others thought better of challenging the massive desert dweller. Those few instances aside Ra-Zar is a creature of just reasoning and a fair-mind, at least when in control of his rage, once he loses that control though he is a destructive force capable of great devastation. And only time or death will be able to end his madness.
Strengths: Very tough and powerful, versatile, fair, and knowledgeable.
Weaknesses: Weaker and slower in cold temperatures and capable of uncontrollable rage.
Fears: Going into a rage, killing innocents, and dying in a rage.
Likes: Meat, hunting, traveling, warm climates, and his people.
Dislikes: Going into a rage, killing innocents, cold climates, and losing his prey.
Spoiler: Background
Ra-Zar was raised around a rare oasis in the heart of the Zendari Wastes and for many years his name was Tay-Rane. He was the youngest son of the Silver Tail Alphas. Tay-Ar and Tay-Gala, for as long as he could remember this was his home and his family, but one thing always bothered him. He was much larger than his siblings and even his parents had to look up at him when he reached adolescence. He even looked different from them, they had pointier more lizardlike heads, while he looked closer to the dragons of ancient legend. As he grew the differences couldn't be ignored, and the change in the way the Silver Tail clan treated him filled his head with questions and doubt. Eventually it drove him to ask his parents directly, "Who am I?" and "Where did I come from?" With reluctance they answered him. He was the son of a tribe that had become more legend than reality, the Red Teeth. From his childhood the Red Teeth were used to teach lessons of betrayal and an ideal to aspire towards.
The Clan of the Red Tooth were great warriors and many were said to be decedents of the ancient Dragons. And many among the Dolg Gramar viewed them as Demi-Gods, blessed with power and magic the lesser clans could only dream of. While Rane showed no sign of magic he had the fabled power of the fallen clan in spades. He lived with this knowledge for a few more years before it became too much. He had just turned seventeen and decided to seek his roots, bidding his adopted family farewell Rane left the Silver Tails and spent many years scouring the Wastes picking up the trail of the Red Teeth.
He hunted for fourteen years walking across every inch of Zendari asking other Gramar and even some visiting races for info. Slowly he pieced it all together and found himself at the site of the Red Tooth Clan massacre. Most of the area had been buried under the shifting sands, but the few artifacts and structures that poked through the sand dunes were reason enough to get digging. He dug for two years in the blistering sun, but on his thirty-third hatching day he discovered what he was. He was the son of the Red Tooth Chief Ra-Ja, but no record existed as to what happened to him. Other members of his family were in marked graves, but he also found a plank with names on it that had no grave. Maybe they were like him? Lost.
One of the names was Ra-Zar and the Gramar decided that would be him until he learned otherwise. With his new name chosen, he left the sight of the Red Tooth hold and left the Wastes entirely. Seven years of wandering brought him to many places and forced him to cross blades many times. But he survived his ordeals and recently found himself in the port of Halin, he had run into a rough patch of luck and was down to just the clothes on his back and his weapons, in this town though he hopes to turn his luck around.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 02:48 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
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