Abysmal Souls Signup page

[NagafenOfIlivikitty]

I won't.

[Sakusa]

Name: Giselle

Gender: 19 (Female)

Class: Civvie

Affinity: Fire

Weapon: Frying pan, rolling pin, whip, and a small knife.

Appearance: Brown-haired, amber-eyed, busty, and average height. I WILL DOODLE THIS ASAP.

Nation of Origin: Talenor, Shuthra

Backstory: Giselle was the only child born to a pair of scholars in Shuthra. After her stage of infancy, she was neglected by them due to their pursuit of magic, going without food or water at times. As a child, she had to learn everything by herself through observation, and she taught herself how to read and write. Though clever, she grew to have a disdain for magic and refused to take it up, though she probably has much natural talent. Due to her parents' negligence, she did as she pleased and made friends easily with her natural charm and charisma. They would run around town playing stick ball or filching sweets from a stall and get into all sorts of mischief and get scolded by some old coot. At the end of the day, though, after their fun was over, her friends were called home by their parents, leaving Giselle rather bitter as she trudged back home. Even if a friend was abused, she still thought it better than being ignored and treated as if she didn't exist.

At the age of 12 she just upped and left home without a word to anyone, partly leaving because she wanted to start anew, the other part because she was sick of the place. All she carried with her were the clothes on her back, a small pouch of gold and jewels, and some rations. She wandered the country doing whatever she could to survive. She'd steal one day, beg the other. Eventually, she settled down in Lazarynth, making a living as a barmaid, and the work was mostly enjoyable. She was fed and clothed and had a roof over her head, which was all she really needed, and she even earned a bit or two on the side.

[ReformBlade]

[Caliban of Sycorax]

I'mma post this here, so I don't lose it.

http://challonge.com/tournament/bracket_generator?ref=AREWOBXSDH

Edited June 28, 2011 by Ptolemy

[Jaybee]

Name: Adonis Icefall

Gender: Male, 28

Class: Castor

Affinity: Water

Weapon:

The staff Adonis received as his graduation “gift”. Allows him to augment his magical powers to a much higher degree.

Only used in emergencies, Adonis uses his knife to defend himself if things get too out of hand.

Appearance:

[spoiler=why not]

Maybe a little older, with some light armour underneath.

Nation of Origin: Revaius, Astarte

Backstory: Adonis’ grandfather, Illidan, was a professor in Krianri 50 years ago prior to the “experiment”. Considered one of the best at controlling the powers of Ice in the world, Illidan was asked to join the team responsible in creating the experiment. Illidan was there when the experiment went wrong, when one of the other professors suddenly went mad, flipping the table containing the potion over. It’s not known what happened after that, but Illidan was caught in the explosion. Severely injured and contaminated with the remains of whatever the explosion had produced, Illidan left Krianri with his students and his family.

Within two years, Illidan had settled down in Revaius with his wife, Miranda and their 7-year old daughter, Metis. Metis had not been contaiminated, being in Falanoon at the time, thus causing her to still be a normal human. Illidan, at this point, was near death, being unable to recover from the blast. Fearing he would not be able to teach his daughter in the magic arts, he asked his best student, Cyrus, to teach Metis in the ways of Ice magic.

Eighteen years later, with Illidan and Miranda long dead, Cyrus and Metis were married. They gave birth to Adonis two years after, and after Adonis, another boy and girl. Cyrus was a harsh father to Adonis, and once Adonis became six he was sent to Pravna to study. After 14 years, Adonis had graduated at the age of 20, and received a staff from the Academy. He then returned to Revaius, where he found that several years before, in a fit of rage, Cyrus had murdered Metis and his two other children, and had run away.

Adonis knew he couldn’t find his father yet, instead deciding to work in Revaius for several years, honing his magical talents in the process. When he decided he was ready, he quit his job and decided to take up life as a solo mercenary.

His one goal is to find his father, and execute him. He will go to any reasonable lengths to achieve his goal.

Personality: He’s not very talkative, but an extremely dangerous mage. He’s also very blunt, and often resorts to violence and threats to solve problems.

Edited August 22, 2011 by JBCWKitty

[ReformBlade]

Jabber, I have a few problems with the signup

1: It's changing continuity (They weren't making a potion to do what you said it did)

2: I'm sorry, that picture is a bit ridic.

[Jaybee]

Got it. I'll change it later.

[ReformBlade]

Got it. I'll change it later.

Sorry I haven't been on much, but I'll work with ya on this if you want some pointers here. Honestly, this isn't too hard a fix for the character.

[Caliban of Sycorax]

Name: Julius Kilstrong

Gender: Male, Aged 18

Class: Fighter

Affinity: Wind

Weapon: Snake Sword

Reference:

Appearance:

Nation of Origin: Lushira

Backstory: Much of his history is unknown to him even; he was born to average parents living in Lushira at the time. His mother had some distant link to the nobility, but his father was a common man originally from Astarte. At age three his father and mother both fled into the night, leaving the toddler Julius alone. In a ten-year time period he was shipped between homes and cities, which is why he doesn't remember much, because he was all over the place. At the age of thirteen he was sent to live with a distant uncle who was a high-ranking Lushiran noble. He grew up learning the various facets of the nobility: manners, eloquence, reverence of the goddess and her chosen, tactics, and swordplay. He certainly wasn't the best at any of these things, but he was competent enough to be accepted by his uncle and others into the nobility. He was a gentleman to a T, which quickly garnered him respect across the nation. At age sixteen Julius received a small manor with a number of servants and his own title.

He lived in modest luxury, attending benefits and events for the nobles and whatnot. Although he appreciated the respect and kindness he was treated to, he didn't feel fulfillment living in the way he did. He often thought of his parents. Were they alive? Were they dead? What were they doing? Why did they leave? Part of him was angry at them, part of him wanted to find them. When he approached his uncle with questions, his uncle refused to answer and instead berated the boy for even bothering. He reminded the boy that he gave him everything; was he so willing to throw it away?

He instead decided to search on his own, in secret. He learned of his mother's true heritage and the reasoning behind her leaving the nobility. She was slated to marry another noble whom she did not love, yet she wed him anyway. He mysteriously died not even a month later, causing many to believe he had been murdered. With her name at the top of the list of suspects, Julius' mother escaped to one of the more remote areas of Lushira, where she soon met and married Julius' father. The night before they both escaped, Julius' mother had received a mysterious package. The contents were unknown to Julius but they caused her to flee the next day.

When he confronted his uncle about the matter, Julius did not expect the next few moments. His uncle explained the package and its symbolism. Inside was a dead snake. The snake was his family's symbol, and a dead one meant that death was approaching. To protect herself she fled with her husband in tow, and, figuring they wouldn't kill her son, left Julius behind. Not too long afterward the pair were found and executed.

Julius' uncle revealed that he was the one who executed his parents. This prompted rage from Julius, who immediately attacked his uncle. The boy was weaponless against his uncle, who wielded one of the many trademark blades of the family, a sword with the ability to coil outward. The battle was tough, but Julius eventually was able to kill his uncle by thrusting his own blade into him. As his uncle's last breath escaped him, Julius took the blade and sheathed it, claiming it to be his. He then took enough gold to sustain himself and set fire to both his own and his uncle's homes to erase suspicion of himself.

His stoic face is almost unbreakable. It is the mark of his undying resolve to find himself and his own identity.

Edited July 13, 2011 by Ptolemy

[Nanami Touko]

Name: Horatio

Gender: male

Age: 24

Class: Fighter?

Affinity: Ice

Weapon: Daggers and shortswords. He has two of the former, one of the latter.

Appearance:

Nation of Origin: Galston, Astarte

Backstory: Horatio, unlike his namesake, is a greedy, filthy, charming, scheming rogue, who will do whatever he can to get his hands on some money, but can't help himself when someone is in serious need of aid. He thinks of himself mostly as said greedy, filthy rogue, and always denies the better part of himself whenever it surfaces.

He was born in Galston during one of the country's reformations, life was tough. He quickly took to thievery as a means of living, being the easiest thing for him to accomplish. Of course, the back of his mind would always yell at him, and he'd think about the lives of these people he was stealing from, wondering how harsh it would be for them with someone constantly stealing their food, weapons; their lively hood. It all bore down on him one day, as a young girl was accused of being the thief by a rather large and gruff town guard. His guilt got the better of him, not wanting this girl, the completely innocent girl, to have to suffer whatever the bloat was thinking of doing to her. It was an apple he'd stolen, and it made the perfect projectile to the man's head, yelling out, "Ya fat oaf! Can't even catch the right thief, can ye?!" He ran, and the girl was spared. Of course, he wasn't as lucky, one of the fat man's fellow soldiers actually quite the fit runner. He'd gotten a beating from it, and had to spend the night in their less than cleanly jail for his actions. He'd gotten off lucky, but more importantly, he'd saved that girl.

That had happened when he was still a teenager. He experienced more of the world with time, and has become jaded to most things. He will still help people, but for a price. He knows how well money speaks, and he has the skills to back up that speaking. Girls still tend to be his weak point, making him hesitate when they are brought into the equation, but for the most part, he does what he's paid for. He was last seen Jalden, Shuthra. At least, the rumors state.

Name: Anderson

Gender: male

Age: 17

Class: healer

Affinity: wind

Weapon: He has his staff.

Appearance:

Nation of Origin: Gerhelva, Astarte

Andy is a timid lad, quite anti social, and would rather spend his time speaking with his grandfather than interacting with anyone else. He's never really known how to make friends, even though he wonders what it would be like to have them. Cute girls make him feel awkward, because above everyone, he wants to get to know them the most, but doesn't know how to.

Backstory: A meek lad, despite his appearance, spending only a few years in his home of birth before being shipped off to Varthas, Shuthra by his parents. His grandfather, a powerful bishop, was asked to raise him during the troubles in his home country, and teach him how to use magic. He was raised, and he was taught, and Astarte's problems began to settle down over the years. Of course, seeing how well he was learning his magic, his parents asked him to stay with his grandfather. He was a kind gentleman, but he wasn't the healthiest of people. Anderson agreed to take care of his grandfather for room and board, beginning his work at a local church to make money, and continue to learn how to wield his staff to the highest.

Tryin' to play devil's advocate with Horatio, here. Help out Grant'n all.

Edited July 20, 2011 by seph1212

[Psych]

Name: Fevr, Nickname Fev

Gender: Female

Age 28

Class: Castor

Affinity: Wind

Weapon: Magic

Appearance:

Nation of Origin: Shuthra

Backstory: Fevr was a young girl in Shuthra. She lived with her family in a large manor and her parents had several Anri slaves under their ownership. Eventually, the slaves rebelled, and with a few others helped burn her home to the ground. Her parents were caught inside the building and perished that night when she was just 8. She had been out that night gathering flowers, only to return and find the flames growing higher. She ran and ran, eventually coming to a river. As she lay there crying over her parents, an old wizard came upon her. It was the night of a full moon and he had been out searching for the spirits he used to fuel his magic. He gave her a home and she helped to clean and dust the home to pay for her board.

As the years passed, she began to think of the wizard as her grandfather, wishing for him to teach her magic. Though she possessed little magic power, she was able to overcome that obstacle thanks to the spirits and mana in the air of the country, coming to learn Wind and Arrow magic. When she was 18, the wizard fell ill that winter. He had grown old and it was looking as if he was at the end of his life. He promised her to teach his lifelong's secret to her, as a final gift to Fevr. He took her high up into the mountains and chained her under a waterfall. The chill combined with the air being so thin made it hard to even survive up there. He left her there for three days, telling her her magic must protect her. When he returned for her, he explained. To be able to use a magic shield one must know the pain they have to withstand. He explained how the spell worked and it's variations, from a barrier, to a second skin, to it's mastery, the Mana Amber. It encases one like a bug in a crystal, preventing damage but preventing movement. With that, he gave her the last of his power before passing away.

The severity of her frostbite made Fevr lose three of her toes, her two pinky fingers, and decreased her sensitivity to heat and cold. She prefers to wear long boots and gloves even in the summer's heat as she does not like talking about the missing digits. Once she buried her master, she left to go look for how she could increase her power and how her master learned the magic shield spells in the first place, still intrigued by it's powers.

Edited July 20, 2011 by Psykitty

[ReformBlade]

Simply too powerful, so, no.

Tone it back, make her learning the magic as she goes along. This stuff isn't crazy OP shit to be dealing with IN THE GRAND SCHEME, but right now, that's fucking crazy.

Also why the fuck is she using a scythe as well as magic.

[Jaybee]

I expect this to be rejected but blegh.

Name: Cyrus Lanvent

Gender: 68, Male

Class: Castor

Affinity: Water

Weapon:

Covering this in the Backstory, because it seems inappropriate to put it here.

Appearance: (Should provide a picture, though if that's not possible, describe your character, and I'll find potential images for you. )

Nation of Origin: Saphine, Sapphire

Backstory: No one really knows much of Cyrus. When he was 10, he was sent to the Academy by his parents to study, hoping he could come home a much wiser boy. However, he never did come back. The Academy became his home for the rest of his time there.

At the age of 16, the accident happened. Away on a trip to Jalden at the time, Cyrus was one of the lucky few unaffected by the blast. When he returned to Krianri, he found that his teacher, Illidan Icefall, had been severely injured and was dying.

Illidan had only one request for him – To teach his daughter ice magic when he was deceased. Illidan also requested that his scepter, presented to him by the Academy, be passed on to his daughter, Metis. Cyrus obeyed his teacher’s instructions, but he wanted the scepter. It was said that the scepters the teachers of Krianri held were not entirely of this world, that they were more powerful than they looked. Cyrus wanted this power.

Even though he was 11 years older than her, Cyrus married Metis. Of their three children, only their firstborn, Adonis, was sent to the Academy. The other two children, Tyrell and Natalia, were schooled at home.

During this time, Cyrus tried everything he could to get his hands on the scepter, while trying to remain a good father and husband. He couldn’t just take the scepter and run; he’d be found out easily. Neither could he just ask for it; The scepter wasn’t supposed to belong to him in the first place. Finally, after so many years of temptation, the powers the scepter held made him mad. He killed Metis, Tyrell and Natalia in their sleep, hid the bodies, took the scepter and ran.

For several years, he ran, until he finally found shelter in Astolhune. Looking for a way to combine the staff and a sword, he found an old forger, who claimed he could combine the orb and sword, no matter how difficult it was. Cyrus accepted, and entrusted the man with Illidan’s scepter, as well as a broadsword he had bought for protection. The man’s process of combining the two was flawed, however, and while he did complete the forging, the sword itself turned to ice, the hilt, where the orb was, freezing cold. The old forger died trying to hold the sword, and after buying a few sets of padded gloves, Cyrus took the sword from his dead body and left the city again.

Over the past few years, he has been hiding in various cities, looking for a place which he will be able to call a home. He knows his son is looking for him – then again, he wouldn’t be able to defeat him, would he?

Edited August 22, 2011 by JBCWKitty

[Anti-Social Meta Knight]

Oh hai new signup.

Name: Melanie "Mel" Cymbellis

Gender: Female, 16

Class: Fighter (roughly - she isn't much of a combatant)

Affinity: Fire

Weapon: Usually a crossbow, but in a pinch she doesn't mind using whatever tools she has on hand (hammer, saw, etc).

Appearance: 5'5", 109 lbs.

Nation of Origin: Sapphire (Bulverk)

Personality: Mel is not, nor has she ever been feminine in any capacity. She wears what she finds comfortable, and is usually covered in soot and grease (hygiene is not a priority of hers). She isn't very tactful, and has a tendency to make fairly stabbing wisecracks about nearly everyone, whether she likes them or not. Machinery and metalcraft fascinate her, and she has been known to gush over finely crafted weapons for minutes at a time. She also has made a habit of whistling and/or singing as she goes about her business. Her whistling is shrill, and her singing rarely on key, but she doesn't care - it's fun.

Backstory: In a nation as profit-driven as Sapphire, innovation can always make a bit of coin. For a few families (those being the ones either unwilling or unable to solicit help from the major families), it's one of the only viable means of doing so; Melanie's was one such family. Due to her parents' proud approach to business, they incurred the wrath of one of the major three families. They disappeared rather quickly. Melanie was three when her grandfather, Zeen, took her, an only child, into his care. She didn't understand at the time just what had happened to her papa and mama, being too young to know the politics of Sapphire.

For the next eleven years of her life, Melanie was fairly happy living with her grandpa. They shared many interests: metalcraft, tinkering, music, and especially building things. She had a knack for her grandpa's work, too, and at the age of seven she was working with him in his blacksmith shop. It became a folk legend of Bulverk's that, instead of going to school, its tots were going right to work - and excelling at it. At ten, she could craft a block of iron into a full suit of armor. However, she always saw more potential in the materials she used than absorbing blows. True to her reputation, Mel began skipping school for weeks, even months at a time, instead spending her time wandering junkyards, rooting through garbage, and sometimes even scavenging battlefields. Her reason for doing all this was simple: she wanted metal. Lots of metal. Any kind would work, so long as she had it - she had curiosities to satisfy.

When she was fourteen, Mel's grandpa disappeared too, leaving her alone in their house. She found a letter in his room explaining his absence, and that of her parents, and leaving the shop in her hands. With a fair amount of money from her work as a blacksmith, and plenty of materials to work with in the shop, Mel promptly closed her grandpa's business down and began to use his tools to build. Her goal was to create something unparalleled, something so new and so impressive that she would be put on the map. From there, she would run the merchants responsible for her parents' deaths into the ground. Two years have passed since the shop shut down, and apparently Mel has nothing to show for it, though there have been strange noises coming from the shop's basement. Rumors abound that she is building a war machine, but no one has gotten in to see what she's created.

Recently, Mel has been lying fairly low, working tirelessly at building and rebuilding whatever she's drafted - and apparently doing some work, because she has been able to consistently pay for repairs to her house and food. Outside of that, though, nothing can be figured out about her except that she hangs around town sometimes.

Edited August 4, 2011 by Anti-Social Kitty

[GoD]

Name: Cordelia

Gender: Female

Age: 15

Class: Caster

Affinity: Thunder

Weapon: Grimoire Jeiss

Appearance:

Nation of Origin: Miyako, Natskio

Personality: Cocky, Arrogant, loves to talk about a lot of things. Likes sweets.

Backstory: Originally from high nobility, Cordelia's mother sought to get away from all of the hustle and bustle that was the upper class life and resigned from her position as one of the army's most powerful mages and tactical advisors, in order to raise her daughter without much fuss from work-related issues. This was the story told to Cordelia, when she once asked why she quit her previous job. As a great mage and intellectual, Cordelia's mother raised her daughter well, having taught her magic with the help of her grimoire, called Grimoire Jeiss, and giving her daughter the mind of a genius. Although Cordelia never spent much time outside the village, actually no time at all, she was always fascinated by the stories her mother told her about it, even though half the time her mother would not look at her directly in the eye.

Years later, on Cordelia's 15th Birthday, her mother was stricken ill with a disease. The village did not posess the medication required to alleviate said malady and as such mother and daughter spent their last together talking about many things. One of these things was about Cordelia's father, Simon, and the adventures he and her mother had taken across the nations. As a final request, she bade her daughter to take Grimoire Jeiss as her own, and search out for her father. A few days later, her mother perished.

Armed with supplies and her quirky companion, Grimoire Jeiss, she now heads for nations other than Miyako to search for her father.

Edited August 2, 2011 by GoD

[Nanami Touko]

It's Caster, btw. There's just a typo in the signup.

And Z says you're still workin' on that signup. Might wanna work fast o 3 o

Edited August 1, 2011 by seph1212

[ReformBlade]

Adonis, Julius, Horatio, Anderson, Cyrus, Melanie and Cordelia all approved, BTW

[Zsword]

Name: Ellandra Dreel

Gender: Female, 15

Class: Caster

Affinity: Ice

Weapon: Sola, Luna, and Astra. Sola and Luna are a pair of Magical augmentation rings, and Astra her necklace. The entire set makes up her casting catalyst.

Appearance: http://nis.tinybooru.com/_images/9d863a8972a578d347d5bf22eaafd1fe.jpg

Nation of Origin: Shuthra

Backstory: Ellandra is a white dove type Anri, who grew up in the magic capital of Pravna. Through-out her whole life she has always had an obsession with helping others, especially people who got wounded in magical experiments. Hew constant close proximity to the various healers and medics has caused her to learn several things about healing people. Eventually they just took her in and taught her proper. She picked it up rather quickly, and instead of learning some form of offensive magic, she opted in the removal and protection of and from various magical curses and ailments, for those cases that healing alone may not solve.

Though, one thing has always bothered her patients, she never spoke, though it was not because she was mute. She still made vocal sounds if she stubbed her toe, or cried out in shock if she saw a particularly nasty wound. This, combined with her angelic wings and ability to heal even the most grievous of wounds with ease, has caused many people to call her The Silent Angel.

With the Magic Festival arriving in town Ell was asked to help at the various first aid stations around town. With so many people, magical devices, and other various tomfoolery, there was bound to be people getting hurt, so having people on duty was all ways needed.

[ReformBlade]

Name: Gwen Riza

Gender: Female (30)

Class: Fighter

Affinity: Ice

Weapon: Reaver (Her Axe), also fists and feet, headbutts, fighting dirty, etc.

Appearance: 5'11"

Nation of Origin: Belanto, Miyako

Backstory: As usual with most women in Miyako, she grew up never knowing her father, even finding it normal or better at times based on what she'd heard. Her life was a good one, up until she was 16 when her family was murdered by a group of soldiers from Astarte seeking to claim some land. It came out of nowhere, and what made it even worse for Gwen was that there was no point to the raid in her mind. They had nothing to gain from it, no land advantage, no resource advantage, nothing. She felt like her family was ripped from her from right under nose, and she had no say in it, her only option being hide from them or die alongside them and destroy the Riza family line.

It pained her, and it drove her towards her training. She focused on nothing else even when facing rejection from friends and relatives. She felt alone in the world, and Astarte was to blame for all of it. She wanders the world now, abandoning any sense of right and wrong, simply looking to rid the world of Astarte, a goal she knows she can't accomplish, but will die trying to attain.

Hm... Needs moar bewbs, but otherwise approved

Oh thanks SB!

NP, bro

Also, Ellandra approved.

Edited August 7, 2011 by SlaveKitty

[NagafenOfIlivikitty]

Name: Noel Isamu Santru

Gender: Female (24)

Class: (Fighter)

Affinity: (Ice)

Weapon: Ayalean: A sword forged quite cheerfully by the now elder wolf Anri Aret, when a slightly nervous Noel turned up at the blacksmith and asked for something that would make her as strong as Langley and her family. Recognising Noel might be feeling inferior, for not being taken on the journey Langley embarked upon, he made a deal. He would train Noel in swordplay, further then the practice she'd had with Langley and if she accepted the training, he would forge her blade for free. Months passed and her bones ached, every session making her body weary with each blow she's learnt to parry but she has finally, quite recently as well, managed to land a blow upon Aret with her practice blade. He smiled quite readily that day and while he commented that her training wasn't over, she had certainly advanced far from where she'd started. He forged her a blade, Ayalean, the handle wreathed in the colours of ice and sea, the edges slightly jagged, to allow not a clean cut, a clean death, but to break bone and to perhaps stop death with pain, however futile that gesture may be. It is rather big as a blade and yet thanks to her training and her heritage of sorts, her body that of a dog anri, she is quite able to handle the blade. The edges are indeed rough and jagged looking, for injury and not death, yet it has an odd quality to the handle, smooth and oddly as cool as ice. Aret mentions after he hand's the blade too her it 'matches her element' but at this point, Noel doesn't understand his meaning.

Appearance:

She wears a rather creative looking ensemble but usually just tells people it' comfortable to wear and easy to move around in. And then just leaves it at that, oddly a bold statement for someone used to being so shy. She's also hesitant about letting her hair down as she feels it would look to long, despite the fact she likes the length, having let it grow since she was tiny, determined to be the anthesis to Langley's short hair.

Nation of Origin: Shuthra, Chaldron

Backstory: Twenty four years ago, in the village of Chaldron, two anri, a man and a women of the dog type witnessed the birth of their daughter, Noel, safe and of course, crying, into the world. It was quite a happy day. It was also a very sleepless day.

Olho Lesley Santru was a woman who had been affected as a child by the blast that had created the rather new, in some respects, race of people called the Anri. Her eyes had been wide when she'd been so tiny; her body now covered in fur and pointed ears at her heads tips. She had laughed and considered it amazing. She did get sad as she grew up though, because even in Chaldron, prejudice has always hidden amongst the quieter people, lashing out at times gone by. Her family had suffered from threats and attacks in the streets from certain individuals. But they taught her, their sacred little daughter, that you sometimes had to take the hits and not sink down to a point where you're as hurtful as them. They told her to be proud and that while she wasn't born this way, she was still beautiful, for being her. She remembers smiling at her parents a lot that day. So Olho grew up proud of herself, happy with herself too. And as it turns out, with Anri being born and filtering into the town bit by bit, there was slightly less of one kind of prejudice to go around.

But there were always other kinds of hate lurking around. An example, a physical example came with an anri with angry blue eyes and fur the colour of white, contrasting her own rather fluffy black fur. She was confused by the man called Kero who came angrily to this town and spread the fear that humans would never trust anri, they would be taken as some had been already, to be slaves and servants to those who would not care if they died in their service. And while for a while, Olho was afraid, it was when she'd reacted in fear to a human mother carrying her child, who'd stopped one day after she'd injured her arm practicing the blade, she kind of realised that fear of a race based on generalisation was rather pointless. And it always would be when someone reaches out with a kind intention. She went to Kero and angrily told him that day that his fears were baseless. Yes, there were humans who acted the way he'd described but not every human, not every life reacted with greed and hate.

Kero Yuri was not a happy sort of anri or even just a being. His life had been cast into shadow long ago as it was told his little sister had vanished in the forests bordering Chaldron. His parents had moved there after tensions between their neighbours in Pravna and they had grown too dissenting, Pravna back then slightly more heated with the rather recent still growth of Anri. He'd stayed there, young but wanting to prove he could make it in a world that didn't quite understand him anymore and so for a while had worked as a magician, focusing himself on gathering a mastery of fire magic. But it was with the news, sent in one of those discreet letters that his mother sometimes sent, he moved himself entirely to Chaldron, to search for her. It was then the story of the 'Trader of the Forest' the one who steals anyone who wanders into those woods away to become a slave, especially Anri, came to his ears. In blind panic and despair for his sibling, he turned his hate onto humans and yet it was another Anri, not a human who was standing up to him. He refused to forgive the unseen trader but this woman was telling him of the kindness that not just humans and anri were capable of committing, the kindness a good person or a person simply trying to do right was capable of committing in their life, just to help another. He was… resistant at first, to the idea that anyone could be as good a person as that.

So it was without hesitation Olho spent her time with him, trying to talk to him when he grumbled he was busy, trying to encourage him to meet new people, not just humans, anri too in general so he could feel more welcome. And slowly, he was wary but relented, curious why this woman was going to such lengths to help him.

It was about a year after he'd moved there that he told her about his sister. How she was light and happy, how she could just chat about nothing in particular yet her happiness about any subject could keep you interested even when you felt you didn't want to be. How she could be serious when others were hurtful and how she had a flaw in that she tried to hide away from new people because she was scared they wouldn't like her based on her appearance. The last letter he told Olho, on a rather windy night with the sea air being taken inland by those gusts, the last letter his mother had sent before his sister had vanished, said she was starting to enjoy going outside and that one day, she'd have so many friends here she wouldn't worry anymore about other people. He told Olho with a rather quiet stare her name had been Sally and that was irreplaceable. At those words, an angered look had crossed Olho's features and she'd asked him if he thought she was trying to replace Sally in his life at which he'd stoically replied yes. What else is there?

Olho had answered with burning cheeks. He could have taken that a sign. But when she'd leant forward, quietly cupped the muzzle of his face and leant in for a silent kiss, hand shaking at his chin, he'd finally, silently, shockingly understood. Why maybe she'd stood by him. Why he hadn't minded too much. They sat for a long time. And awake, held in each others arms against the morning dew, at dawn.

Olho's parents were surprised and then delighted. Kero's were suspicious. Until he'd come home one day, smiling so brightly, as if Sally had never left, as if everything was okay again. And then they too had smiled, knowing what it was Olho was doing to his heart. Two years later, Olho and Kero stood in a church of the goddess, a rather tiny one within the small town and in front of a rather open minded priest and their families, they exchanged vows and wed. They lived together, Olho running a school for swordsmanship, the blacksmith Aret training her since she was small. He was quite young yet the stories of his youth were ones that sounded like fairytales, fighting battalions of soldiers and rescuing the injured. But as time faded those stories, he didn't mind, training Olho with every skill and piece of strength he could, both to help her protect things as well as to give her enough ability to make such a school a viable option. Kero practiced his magic's further, helping locals learn the basic arts of casting and drawing upon energy. In other words, they kept their home afloat by keeping the locals able to defend themselves.

It was a surprise then that Olho found one day a woman moved into the town that caused such despisement among the locals. They sneered and hid and cast aside semblances of a kind face to point and harass a woman who seemed so quiet, her eyes not betraying much bar a sadness unexplained. Olho was ready to join in however, finding out that this woman, this Dlareme was the 'Trader of the Forest'. So she ran up to her, demanding the location of Kero's sister, shouting at her even as this woman just stood, shuffled her feet and looked like she was barely able to stand under such times, let alone shout back. She just murmured to Olho she would 'redeem herself' at which Olho snorted, murmuring she was beyond redemption. But it was then that Kero appeared, his features mirroring in some way his sisters, perhaps in a harsher, more masculine way, yet enough of a link that Dlareme went if possible paler that day, as he moved over, silent, knowing who she was. The town's people had gathered outside that day, human and anri, silent and watching. So it was much to their surprise, Kero told Dlareme he only had one thing to ask. Olho was silent, shocked and wondering what her husbands mind was racing with. He asked her if she would bring his sister home. She looked at him, Dlareme's eyes not leaving his and simply said 'yes'. And he stood a moment, his face blank, even quiet. His look was silent as he nodded and left, shivering but just leaving. Dlareme stayed silent and this, this event was not unusual. It was just something which usually resulted in anger, rage; pain never just blankness and acknowledgement.

Olho later asked him why he wasn't angry. He told her he was, but she said yes. She asked, confused, why he didn't act on it. And he told her a story of an amazing woman he knows who would show kindness to those who act against the generalisations, the fairytales spread about them and how the 'Trader of the Forest' was just a story. The woman whose eyes he'd looked into, he said in an almost hollow too, was frightened. Not of him. But most likely, the fact she may never be able to live with what she's done. She just sat there, realising that she had cast aside someone seeking forgiveness without hesitation.

It was that night that Dlareme, in home she had bought with her own money, her money seeped in bad memories, that she found someone knocking at her door. She was met, frozen, by a quiet Olho who silently asked if she could talk. So, without much way to avoid it, they did. And they did the night after and the night after. And months and nearly a half year late Olho found that the Trader of the Forest vanished. In its place, in her place, was now just a hurt, saddened woman called Dlareme Aokkoa and her friend. For soon Dlareme was working all across town to help those who needed it, knowing she would try and redeem herself, her past.

She bore witness to the return of the lion man Garlion, she and her husband were silent and yet one the few that supported Dlareme, surprised at their own actions, when she would tell little ones what had happened to the people she'd encountered in the forest, Dlareme reduced to silent tears and both of them, shocked to find their hands didn't leave hers as she wept. Garlion would be silent but both would angrily nod their heads to the sobbing Dlareme as he harrumphed and looked away, sighs following.

The day they both had heard the news, of the defence of Garlion for Dlareme, the gossip that became truth, that they were a couple, they had been inside, resting together as he'd called out the town on their failures to recognise Dlareme's help. When they'd awoken, they'd found a town changed from how it had been. Whispers of guilty followed and when finally, Dlareme returned to the townspeople, Kero and Olho came out, confused but curious. It seems the whisper of yes, to save Kero's sister had become something more. She stood and fearfully, but truthfully told the town of her plan, to rescue those who'd been taken by her. The loudest applause, grins and cheers for this plan came from Kero and Olho, both of them, their friends. Dlareme's smile was returning to her lips and Garlion would remark to her how good it was to have friends like the Santru's.

Kero would sometimes lose his temper though. Every time Dlareme returned to the town and it was not Sally, he would rage and Olho would be sad to see him shout at Dlareme, Garlion visibly angry now, love having made him defiant of any who threw their weight at his love. But he would sadly understand the feeling of loss that Kero would find grow in his soul. Olho would hold his hand after each time and he would silent sit with her, wondering.

Twenty five slaves were rescued and yet he had not seen Sally. Yet Dlareme would always smile and say she would never rest her soul till Sally came home, Garlion chuckling and telling Kero the same. And Kero, for all his anger, would not help but smile at their determination. But when Olho smiled one day, as he just woke, took his hand, his furry white in black and placed it to her stomach, a tiny beat of something their, a kick almost, he went silent. Then laughed, kissed her brightly and spent the better part of a day smugly saying to people without care he was going to be a daddy. He smiled though, his heart bright and his beloved wife smiling with him. Dlareme and Garlion were the first to grin and hug them, congratulating them, and then Olho's parents followed along with Kero's.

So, as I said, twenty four years from now ago, the night of the little girl called Noel Isamu Santru's birth was a sleepless but beautiful one. She was born and she cooed and cried and gurgled and was of course, a beautiful dog anri, making her parents chuckle as they poked her tiny ears. They loved her and they always would, their little Noel.

Noel grew with a vibrant happiness, mirroring her mothers. She could though be as shy of others as her father was when he first came to town and it was only with sighs and nudges from her parents, her father slightly more open then he had been, that Noel shyly went up to the little blonde girl called Langley and asked her to play. The grinning blonde agreed and the black and white Noel smiled sheepishly, running of to try things you do when you're little, like hopscotch, tag, sword fighting. Well, the last one was with sticks but when both mothers come from backgrounds where learning to fight was introduced to keep them safe as well as with both fathers, it's hard to not try and instil some liking for fighting with weapons into your children. Somewhat.

Noel was shy using a weapon but she smiled a lot, happy practicing with sticks and with Langley, both trying to outdo one another, however shy Noel was, however oblivious Langley could be. Noel showed an interest in making food which was surprising to her parents, neither having been much of a cook during their time. But Noel had a very good eye for ingredients and technique, able to cook quite well at a young age. By the time she was in her teens, she worked part time as a baker for the town, the local baker a jolly sort of guy named Carou. He had one of those moustaches that look like pencils taped to each side of his face tilted upwards and was going bald but was a quite jovial guy, always impressed by the effort Noel put into creating culinary dishes, fashioning the most well cooked meat stews and the most elaborate confectionaries which she adored. And Langley, whose talents she believed lay only in fighting, secretly was awed by her friend's rather unique ability. Noel revelled in cooking but while the attention was great, she just loved to make things that smelt and tasted delicious at the end of the day.

Noel grew shy of other children her age but like her mother with her father before her, she was encouraged to go say hi and interact, to not isolate herself in fear of repercussions. This was reinforced when she went up to a human boy in the town yet found he spat at her, calling her inhuman. His parents, sitting nearby, were surprised by his statement and as Noel grew tearful they came and the scolded him, asking him what had made him believe that. He told them and Noel in anger she didn't look the same, she didn't have the same skin yet Noel in a small moment of bravery told him that it wasn't skin that linked people, just the want to do good to others and be friends with others regardless of difference. The boy was still angry but he did seem sheepish, almost embarrassed and walked away, his parents apologising greatly to Noel. She smiled and nodded and as they left, wiped her eyes, believing that this justified her fears. Yet when she told her parents about what she did, whether it was right, her father smiled and her mother, cheeks tinged red at his chuckle, hugged her and whispered yes, it very much was.

She was happy the day that Langley's tail grew as she found she had a visible connection to her friend, a bond of race. Yet Langley smiled once as she had said this, the day afterward, hugging her friend and telling her that they had bonds beyond stuff like that, so a tail didn't make or break any connection they both held. Noel had been surprised by the statement, a silent thought that she had sounded so much like her mom and her ideals with that reason. She'd hugged her friend for a long time then and refused to let go for a while, until they both became hungry, which to Noel, became a challenge each time hunger was raised. She headed home with Langley that day and tried to perfect some good fried eggs. They were a bit undercooked but tasted good.

Noel grew tall and stronger, eyes bright as she and Langley grew and grew strong. Though as Langley said she had to begin a journey, Noel was torn apart at the idea her friend couldn't bring her along, Langley saying things such as she didn't want to lose Noel or see her hurt, her best friend. And at first, Noel was angry and enraged, saying she was always as strong as Langley and wanted to be given a chance to show she was as brave. But Langley just walked away, determined to not suffer as her mother had done, without the people she'd loved during her life's beginnings. Noel, angry throughout the night, felt upset at seeing her greatest friend leave, having told her to see if she cared when in short, she cared far too much for Langley, cursing and crying her way home. Her parents had tried to ask her the matter, worried about Noel yet found she refused to speak, the answer easy to identify with Langley's journey dawning.

But the next day, she was there to see her go, a small smile and a tight hug following her as Langley quietly smiled back to her, some tension eased. The bond between them both had not decayed or been broken, for they knew that however much the action hurt, Langley was acting out of love for her friend, not to make her feel small, insignificant. But Langley was soon gone and Noel, with a quiet smile, whispered a vow. She would become strong, stronger then Langley, then Langley's parents, then her parents, she would become the shield for her friends and family and she would become someone who could protect those who reached out in kindness when she felt fear of reaching out herself. So she spent the rest of that day, her parents worriedly watching her, practicing with the same practice sword that had once cut her friend, swinging with purpose, strength and determination with each cut.

Soon, Noel had grown further, weeks passing and anri and even humans turning up in Chaldron every so often. She ignored this. She was happy to see others free; evidence Langley was not only okay, but doing alright. She didn't even notice the agitation her father had whenever others would turn up, as if they weren't someone he was waiting for. But they saw her train, saw her strikes grow sharper and firmer. She could parry very well, defending herself as she wanted. But it was a day when she went into the blacksmiths, to the wolf anri, the old man Aret with his slightly faded fur and his broad smile. He may have been old but he lived quite long, the strange old man. He'd forged Langley's and Dlareme's weapon, the Broadblade, so she asked if he could forge her one, saying she could pay well. But Aret instead chuckled and then murmured just a deal. He would train her. If she proved herself worthy of a personal blade, he would forge her one, no charge. She agreed a silent thought that it sounded easy.

It was later as she could barely block sweeping blow after blow, the old man shockingly fast, his cuts coming in with a blunted blade at speeds that defied logic and his age. She winced at a blow to her legs and while he looked sombre in some cases, murmuring bluntly she still had so far to go, he grinned as she limped away. Not out of the injury, that was hardly grin worthy. She was good. She was like her mom in some ways. But something burnt inside her that made her want to go further, further then her mom did. What it was she had realised but she needed time to become focused on it, to become that shield.

They trained, each day his blows coming thick and fast, barking instructions, quite literally as she learnt with pain and tiredness to sweep back at a cut to the head and raise her blade in a defensive position. She learnt to use her wrist and not her arm to twist the blade and to keep a firm grip of it as even the mightiest of blows cannot rend you weaponless if your grip is like steel. She learnt to riposte, to curve up with an arc but keep your body side on so the target is smaller, she learnt to use stamping of feet and minor jarring motions to make opponents jump, a split second advantage, or to stand still and motionless, to draw the enemy in a confused sense of well being before dropping a trap, she learnt to defend and to attack in their most primal senses and their most refined.

And one day, one fine day as the coastal air grew thick with salt and her parents, Olho silent and Kero curious, watched unseen by her, her senses drawn into the raining blows that she and Aret tried to make upon one another, the clash of dull blades still audible even when dulled, she found that suddenly her blade had landed against his chest, over where his heart would be. It was poised but she had stopped, the sword held there, a death strike ready but unused. She moved her blade before he brought his up, his eyes gleaming and brown as he tried to make her lose balance with a sharp strike and she lunged to the side, her leg darting in and the rather large foot hitting his back legs, her sword moving and tapping his side. She stood then, shaking as he coughed but grinned almost madly, murmuring 'finally' as if a day long coming. She was almost frightened, to have hit him, worried she hurt him. But he shook his head, telling her she was to keep training with him, which she slightly nodded at. But he murmured with a bright smile, eyes glowing with happiness, she had finally touched him. She was finally ready.

What she had not seen was first the initial shock and then immense pride from Olho's face, her husbands quiet grin at the strength his daughter had shown against the might old warrior. They both never told her, confident that she didn't need a puffed ego, knowing that she knew they both loved her so dearly. The silence about their pride didn't stop her father looking slightly smug during some lessons of magic, confusing and irritating some of his students or her mother growling to focus on sharper strikes, trying to better her own skills during her swordplay classes.

Overnight, she allowed by her parents to stay within the blacksmith. Worried still but Kero oddly trusting of the elder Anri, her mother Olho slightly knowledgeable of what this event marked. She fell asleep to the acid smell of metal and awoke to him, grinning, and those eyes so bright. And in his hands, a jiggered, long piece of silvery metal, a handle forged in icy looking blue and curved up, like a blade from a fairytale of sorts, a grim and yet magical tale. He asked her to name it. She mumbled 'Ayalean' and fell back to sleep. He blinked once or twice, thought about it, murmured 'quite an odd name' but laid the blade next to her sleeping form and left her to rest there. Her sword now and with it, a destiny left for her to find.

They kept training, they still train, Noel's fire never quite dying but her father knows, Kero quite silent, she has something of magic within her. She hasn't shown a sign of magical ability but it comes off once or twice, like the feeling of something there unseen and untouched growing inside her heart and her form. She is quite happy though, her sword ability growing, each day, able to match her mom, to land more blows against Aret who wildly encourages her to grow stronger.

Noel still takes time to volunteer as a cook and enjoys cooking greatly, fashioning food from the basics of things. She is determined one day, maybe when there are no more obligations, no more slaves to find and no more fights to be had, to maybe cook for people and for her, to create foods of brilliant taste for those who wish to eat.

Yet for now, within the town of Chaldron on that coast, Noel Isamu Santru is trying so hard to become not just strong, the best cook, extroverted and the shield for those she cares for, but trying to build herself, to become someone that isn't just built upon the kind acts of others but someone she has confidence in to be herself and be it around others. She still trains and hopes to become someone that she can be proud of.

Edited August 19, 2011 by NagafenOfIlivikitty

[Parrhesia]

Finally, another female Guard! Approved, with a bag of chips and a bag of holding.

So, um...say that my former inactivity would automagically cease due to the no longer all-encompassing patch deadline. Would the application still be valid, or...?

EDIT: On second thoughts, ignore the question. Rehearsals will be heating up soon, and I mislike the chances of my knowing any lines if I spend all the time attempting to keep up with something outside my timezone.

Edited August 14, 2011 by Furekitty

[CT075]

Name: Rina Fareth

Gender: Female, 14

Class: N/A

Affinity: Wind

Weapon: Bow, rarely used

Appearance:

Nation of Origin: Lushira

Backstory:

Rina was the second daughter of a Shuthran scientist living in Lushira, although neither she nor her sister knew. In contrast to her sister Therese, Rina was always very subdued and quiet, preferring to excel in her studies rather than in a fight. Eventually, it was discovered that Rina was a brilliant archer, able to hit a tree from almost 100 feet (roughly 30 meters). Despite this, she refused to hone her talent further, claiming that it was always a lucky shot, and refusing to speak of the subject further.

When Rina was 10, her sister and father began having arguments. They would usually start out over something trivial, which then escalated rapidly. Frequently it resulted in the two coming to blows. During these fights, Rina and her mother would leave, usually going to town or into the forest. One day, Rina returned to see the house in flames, and what appeared to be bandits dragging off her father. Therese was nowhere to be seen. Only Rina was sharp enough to spot the Astartean seal on the mens’ clothing, though she didn’t know what it was.

Afterwards, Rina and her sister had fallen into poverty. Their mother was bedridden, under the care of the family doctor. Rina was forced to use her bow to survive, since Therese was lousy at hunting.

Rina is a gentle soul, preferring to run away rather than fight. The mere sight of blood throws her into a panic, though she tries to hide it.

Name: Therese

Gender: Female, 23

Class: Fighter

Affinity: Thunder

Weapon: Dart gun – Slightly bigger than a standard crossbow, it’s not really a firearm. Instead, it uses a spring-loaded mechanism similar to that of a crossbow. Too weak to pierce armor (or thick clothing, for that matter), but can be lethal at close range. Therese has a few trick shots (poisoned darts, heavy blunt darts mostly used as a threat), but on the whole, it’s mostly harmless at distances more than a few feet, with the exception of shots to the head or neck. While loaded, it’s heavy enough to be used as a bludgeon.

Appearance:

(alternately )

Nation of Origin: Lushira

Backstory:

Rina’s older sister. She’s very easy to aggravate, and isn’t afraid to use physical force if necessary. Has pissed off more than a few guilds in a few towns she’s passed through, as she won’t hesitate to attack someone whom she believes has ripped her off.

Therese was very protective of her sister, even before the incident. After their father was kidnapped, she and her sister had to stand by and watch as their mother’s health declined. After a year and a half, Therese had had enough. Leaving their mother in the care of the family doctor, she took her sister and set out, posing as a mercenary. She never stopped believing that her father was still alive, although if he was she doesn’t care. All Therese really wants is to brutally massacre the people who had attacked the house in the first place, and restore their mother to health.

When the men first came, her father had gotten very upset. He told Therese to run, but she was stubborn and refused. When the house began to burn, she became trapped under the wreckage, and was sure she was going to die. As a result, any kind of flame or smoke, be it a campfire or a cigar, will throw her into hysterics.

Edited August 16, 2011 by Cam

[ReformBlade]

Noel and Therese are approved, but Rina is... I'm sorry, but 1000 feet of launchage when she's 10 or less years old? You can be as skilled as you want, but to get that much distance requires some serious strength from someone so young, and she doesn't exactly look like she has much meat on her arms there.

EDIT: Also, furet, no worries. If you ever get free time, you're welcome to join us. Fresh meat is always welcomed.

Edited August 16, 2011 by SlaveKitty

[CT075]

100, not 1000. I blame 2:30 AM.

[ReformBlade]

Lol, cool, I figured it was a mistake like that, but I can never be sure. Approved!

And then!

Name: Pralken Willard

Gender: Male (46)

Class: Fighter

Affinity: Wind

Weapon: Longsword and Shield

Appearance: 6'2"

Nation of Origin: Belenos, Lushira

Backstory: A noble of high standing, he had everything. Wealth, fame, a beautiful wife and kids and a loving family, and for a while there he was perfectly content with the world and all of its flaws, simply because he had what he cherished most. Unfortunately, he would let his anger show any time someone threatened to ruin this dream world of his, always taking it out on his slaves, via physical violence or pleasure. He eventually got so sick of one his slaves fighting back, he kicked straight through his front door, something he had not meant to do. He had money and enough influence to cover up the incident for a while, but he knew it'd come back to haunt him.

And one night, it did come back, crashing through the glass ceiling of his perfect world, ruining almost everything within a day. His children had run away, his slaves gone as well. At first he thought it was a mass kidnapping, and yet, reality dawned on him quite quickly, leaving him to start thrashing about in his own home, destroying the place and scaring his wife off. Shortly after, he was stripped of his title, only causing even more grief for the man, and when he angrily asked why, he was told it was because he failed to keep his slaves from forming a rebellion. There were now dozens of instances of Anri slaves running away in groups from their owners, and the nobles felt they had to place the blame somewhere, and his was the easiest choice. Outraged, but unable to fight the system, he had one final act before he left his country.

In the middle of the night, his last night in his once beautiful home, the polace where his dreams could have become real and constant, he torched the whole place in a blaze. Packing up his armor, his sword and his shield as well as any money he had on him, he left for the Astartian border, smiling all the while. None of the nobles felt it was worth it to chase a clearly desperate man, but he would prove them wrong. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain by trying to seek revenge upon what he claims are hypocrites.