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2,700	62	5	1,310	1,136	Nyx Introductions Nyx sat on the side as she watched everyone introduce themselves. She kind of didn't feel like introducing herself as she felt they would reject her. But in a near instant second she heard someone say Manakete. She rose from her seat and spewed out words at a thousand miles per hour "I'm Nyx and I guess I was also involved in the Gaia war as well." She quickly sat back down and looked at her feet. She didn't really know whether these people she had allied with would be trustworthy after all. Like seriously, she wasn't able to read the tactician and of all the people a bandit, someone who is known for being some kind of thief, murderer or worse. And it wasn't like she could defend herself after all she had no idea what happened that day during the war. Which explains why she doesn't know how to use her powers. All she knew how to do was sit and listen to other people.	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,701	62	6	470	1,609	Taka So from maid, Manakete, tactician, and noble...we go to supposed Manakete since she looks young but is apparently old and a young woman with an ax and a dragon partner. The supposed Manakete seemed more nervous than Taka which was not a good sign considering the fact she could be one with more power. He'll make a reminder to help her out with that later if he can, maybe a few tricks to go along with it as well. The Wyvern Rider seemed friendly enough...though the Wyvern comforted Taka a lot more than the ax. His legs were already getting a bit wobbly from looking at everyone's swords but the ax really made him shake a bit more than usual. He could imagine everyone making fun of him, all because of his fear for weapons that involve such strength despite that being what he grew up with. No way are these people going to find out...just stay calm, he reminds himself, just laugh like Gramps said. So he thought of the funniest prank he pulled off on a heist and laughed. Taka really couldn't hold in his laughter as he doubled over once again. This place was really like home, he thought, only these guys hopefully won't be jerks...right? He eyes the large Wyvern that was attracted to his plates of food and laughs even more. Thanks to his constant travels, Taka heard a bunch of different stories and the ones about Wyverns enjoying a good meal seem true. Immediately he gets a plate full of meat ready from all of his hoard and displays it in front of the dragon. Waving at the owner of the dragon and the other newcomers who introduced themselves, he looks at his hoard of food and laughs a bit again. The pile was diminishing and he wasn't one to give food out to only one person due to picking favorites. He grabs his bow and looks at the others one last time as he says, "You guys keep on introducing yourselves, and I'll be back. Might as well have a meal while talking this much. People tend to speak longer and feel a lot more comfortable with a meal at hand...or at least some type of food. If you guys don't mind me leaving for just a bit."	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,702	62	7	1,533	1,707	The sound of wood clashing with wood filled the hall as the soldiers practiced. There were dozens of them, divided into smaller groups of maybe six sparring partners. Standing at the entryway, a large threshold with two large doors, was a rather tall man just under two meters in height. He wore light armor and carried two swords on his left side, one positioned below the other and both in sheaths. His hair was brown in hue and not necessarily long and not actually short. He spoke to a shorter man who had beckoned him away from his students. “Captain Cylus Thael, you have orders to appear for the parley at Dragonrage Pass. You’ll be joining a special regiment for an assignment. The Orders come from General Thael.” General Thael was, for clarification, Cylus Thael’s sister. “Ah, Mira. I was hoping she’d send me. While I do love teaching,” he glanced back at the soldiers, several practice swords had been broken since he’d left, “I do miss the action of battle. I’ll get ready with all haste.” ~ Cylus stood by as the others members of their rag-tag group introduced themselves, he was certain that each member was as skilled, or maybe more so, with their abilities as he was with the blade. Even though the group wasn’t as intimidating to look at as an organized unit of soldiers, they, he was sure, were far more deadly by an order of magnitude, at least. There were two shape shifting dragons, refered to as manaketes; the Prince of Ereb was present, an outlaw from Archanea, a maid who Cylus was certain had more to offer than met the eye, there was also a tactician. Mira must have something in mind if she’s involved in putting this group together… He considered approaching her and asking about it but had quickly abandoned the idea - she was just as likely to eat him alive as actually answer the question. Cylus feared his eldest sister, she didn’t become a general of a third of the Concilium military by collecting bottle caps. No one had spoken for a few seconds so Cylus decided to take the opportunity. He stood, making himself clearly visible, “My name is Cylus Thael. I teach swordsmanship at the base in Archanea. I can fight in close quarters but not at a distance and, so you're aware - I wear light armor for speed and agility. I don’t carry a shield for the same.” He’d turned toward the man who’d called himself Alfred as he spoke, letting the man know what he could and couldn’t do.	Name: Cylus Thael Age: 27 Sex: Male Class: Sword Master Special Abilities: -Aggro -Iron Breaker Equipment: - Steel Sword - Steel Sword - Vulnerary History: Cylus was the third of four children, and the only son among his three sisters. Though it should be noted that, just because Cylus is now a master of the blade and grew up with sisters, he is not the toughest of his siblings. Cylus would actually consider himself the weakest of his immediate family. His parents are long dead, they didn’t die by any means more exciting than old age. But, his sisters are each tough in their own right and would, in Cylus’ words, wreck him in a fight. His eldest sister, Mira, leads a large contingent of the Concilium’s military. Silica, younger than Mira yet older than Cylus, teaches spell-craft in Magi Val and the youngest sibling, Alice, is a mercenary who travels lending her blade to whoever has the heaviest coin purse. None of this should point to Cylus being weak, just that he is from a family of fighters. He teaches swordmanship under his sister’s command in the Grand Army of the Concilium. For the past few years Cylus has found himself in Archanea teaching swordmanship along with other instructors of the bow, magic and other forms of combat, in the base there. Personality:
2,703	62	8	565	508	Eclisse stood by in silence as each member of this little meeting introduced themselves. In all honesty, she was expecting a diverse group of warriors, but nothing this diverse, the manaketes were definitely a surprise to her. The outlaw however, made Eclisse very cautious, she had her fair share of bandits and rogues and none of them were particularly friendly, so you could say her suspicions were justified, but only time would tell if she will come to trust this outlaw. After everyone else had introduced themselves it seemed that it was Eclisse's turn to introduce herself. She wasn't nervous in the slightest, this could be their very own little mercenary group. She hefted her blade, Blackfang, onto her shoulder and proceeded to introduce herself. "You may call me Eclisse, I'm a mercenary from Archanea, though thanks to my profession I've been to many other kingdoms besides my own. You have my blade, if the pay is good."	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,704	62	9	2,238	2,226	Senshi wasn't paying the greatest attention to what was going on around him, he was busy sorting through all of the medicinal ingredients he had brought with him. Muttering to himself as he sorted them into groups, "Rose petals go in with the poison cures, nightshade with the poisons, daisy stems go with the healing potions, and finally juniper go into the poison cure." He finished sorting to see what he assumed was the group he had been drafted to. He thought back to last week when he had just got a decent lead on the bandits who killed his family and ruined his town but before he could head off after them soldiers came into town and drafted a few of the townsfolk into a militia, and he happened to get caught up in it, he came back to reality after a lady with an odd looking sword introduced herself. Senshi stood up and bowed, "Oh, right we are doing introductions, well my name is Senshi. I'm an apothecary from Magi Val, I know how to make potions and use a bow. I would really like to not be in the front lines." He sat back down and thought to himself, "My this is a rather motley crew I've been drafted to. We have a maid, an outlaw, a wyvern rider, two manaketes, and prince and princess from two different countries. And there was the tactician and the one who just introduced herself. Sheesh, Senshi what have you gotten yourself into?"	Name:Senshi Sex: Male Appearance: A short man, standing at about just under 5 feet tall, Shenshi wears short black hair that looks slightly singed at the tip. He wears simple clothes, which resemble those of a peasants,and always has a heavy brown leather apron on over them. The pockets of his apron are stuffed with herbs and flowers. He has green eyes. And is 24 years old. Class: Apothecary Special Abilities: Pick, Extra Pockets. Equipment: Iron bow, Vulnerary, Pouch of Gold, Panacea. History: Senshi, lived in Magi Val his entire life. He worked his families' potion shop for years, but he always had the urge to go and adventure the world. His brother was a hunter and taught Senshi how to use a bow, Senshi had kept a daily routine to practice archery and potion making. One day his small village was attacked and destroyed by Bandits, his family was killed but he did not mourn for long because he set his mind on revenge. After helping his village rebuild Senshi set off to find the bandits and kill them. Personality: (I read the rules so this is blank yes?)
2,705	62	10	470	1,609	Taka There definitely was an uncomfortable feeling around the group...and Taka wasn't that stupid to tell it was partially due to him being an Outlaw. However, he much rather be viewed as this than be viewed as one who was discredited by his family. To make up for the awkward silences and hushes, he starts leaving toward the munitions tent once more. "I'll be back...guess I'll try to make it up to you nobles and do something nice like the maid over there." Going inside to notice a much more quiet environment, he was able to peacefully swipe full plates of food. The men were all drunk if not tired from being busy feasting on all the food that was there, though leaving quite a savage mess. There was really no need to take THEIR food, but he took the food that they were about to take later on. Though, his greedy self of course had to go into the kitchen as well and grab a few extras as well. He quickly heads back to the others bringing a small cart to carry the feast he brought with him. On his way back, he was distracted by a rather large cart and was debating about taking the cart or using the small one he found earlier. "Would I get in trouble if I take it? It's just a cart...not like there's anything of importance to it. Maybe the people won't notice...or should?"	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,706	62	11	794	276	As more members of the group introduced themselves, Alfred took notes on each one, nodding when they spoke directly to him. Preliminary Notes on the Group: Jarde– A Lord, the leader of our group. Seems like he will be fighting close up, like your typical glory-seeking noble. Appears to be inexperienced. Nyx and Myno– Manaketes. Myno claims they can fly, breathe fire, and fight close up using their natural attacks. It seems these will be our powerhouses in the group. Myno seems like he is mentally prepared for battle, Nyx does not. Both claim to have prior experience in battle. Taka– An Outlaw. Claims to be skilled with the bow. Has a... Casual attitude. Don't give him any important responsibilities until he proves he can be trusted. Maid— A Maid. Claims to be able to heal. I've heard rumors that servants in Gleivnir are trained in the use of knives, as well. Remember to ask if that is true. As a maid, is likely used to following instructions to the letter. Angelise— An Archer. Claims to be skilled with the bow. Another noble. Appears inexperienced. Likely a more trustworthy archer than the Outlaw. Roane— A Wyvern Rider. Claims to be skilled with the axe. Claims to be a representative of another noble house, House Niveana. Likely to be useful ferrying less mobile individ— Alfred's writing was interrupted when somebody bumped into him, resulting in his pen running over what he had just written on Roane. He could hear the offender apologizing profusely, but he was focused on mourning his lost work. Now that the page had been marred, he would have to tear it out and rewrite the whole thing. It was mildly upsetting, but he would have likely done that anyway, just to clean up the presentation. After grumbling internally for a few moments, Alfred looked up to see the maid with her hands folded in front of her. She appeared to be waiting for a response to something. "Oh, apology accepted," Alfred said. "Say, I've heard rumors that servants in Gleivnir are trained extensively with throwing knives. Would there happen to be any truth to that?"	Name: Estelle Caelestinus Class: Maid Height: 5'6'' Weight: 110lbs. Hair Color: Blonde Eye Color: Blue Complexion: White Age: 24 Appearance: Estelle is a slight creature, all willowy limbs with girlish curves. There is nothing girlish about her face, however, the curve of her nose and chin sharp and her bright blue eyes piercing. She carries herself with proper poise and exhibits a seemingly easy grace in the way she moves, which is always with purpose and dexterity. Along with this formality, she almost always sports her uniform--a plain black dress with tight, long sleeves and a fluffed skirt that runs just below the knees. The uniform also includes a lacy headband too keep back long, curly hair, and black leggings with sleek, ankle-length boots. Special Abilities: = Extra Pockets (Passive) - Increase Equipment slot by one. = Pick (Active) - Unlock a lock at will. Equipment List = Iron Knife > Heal - Restore a nearby player from incapacitation. > Mend - Revive a nearby fallen NPC. Cast immediately after death. Body must be mostly intact. Once per battle. > Warp - Teleport a faraway person to the near vicinity. Five per battle. History: Estelle was born to a family of servants and brought up to work like one. To this day, she still serves Lord Dubois, a noble loyal to Gleivnir and its monarchy. Though she has worked hard to gain the common title of maid, her position within the Dubois family is not taken lightly. Like her mother, she was trained from a young age to cook and clean, but the Dubois family required other unique skills. Healing the family's knights when they returned from battle was one such thing, and another was playing bodyguard and assistant when family members left home. Estelle was not guaranteed the position of maid, and she hardened over time to achieve her family's goal no matter what challenges arose. For this reason, she tends to have a cool and competitive demeanor. She never lived with the privileges of a noble woman and thus learned to keep a constant firm and formal demeanor, which entailed hiding all emotion her superiors deemed inappropriate for one of her station. Personality:
2,707	62	12	1,310	1,136	Nyx Silence the ultimate torture Nyx looked at all the people and shakes her head. She knew fully well most of them have not experienced fear like she had. Most of them would only have heard stories of the Gaia war while she had experienced it firsthand. Anyway, she didnt know who to trust. The only person she felt she could trust would be the other Manakete or the bow knight. Though she was sort of scared of the Mercenary known as Eclisse. Even though she was pretty. The other people she didnt feel like she could trust but she wasnt scared of them. Though she still felt the theif was untrustworthy. She looked to the tactician and notices him taking notes. She approaches slowly and peeks over the tactician’s shoulder. She notices what he had written about her and shakes her head slowly. He had misunderstood her quite a bit. She was no powerhouse and she had no experience in battles as far as she knows.	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,708	62	13	1,500	564	Victoria Pax A red headed, heavily armored, young woman moves as quickly as she could through the string of encampments within the valley. She was running late. It was a terrible way to give a first impression. If she had it her way she would have been early to a meeting. She vowed she would be on time from now on. The woman knight used her steel lance as a walking stick as she strode by various campfires that were not the one she was looking for. The light of the bonfires reflected gracefully against her armor. Coming up to a decent sized group around a bonfire, She checked the parchment that held her orders. Confident she was finally at the right place, she proudly proclaims, "Greetings, I am known as Victoria Pax, Knight is my profession. I apologize for being late to the gathering, but I am here now. Place me infront a flood of enemies, and I promise I will hold my ground long enough to forge two rivers. Oh, and is this the irregulars under the command of Prince Jarde Devaron? It would be embarrassing if I were in the wrong place again."	Name: Victoria Pax Sex: Female Class: Knight Special Abilities: = Iron Skin (Passive) - Negates the ability of weapons that pierce armor (Armorslayer, Hammer, guns, etc.). = Ironbreaker (Passive) - All weapons can pierce armor. Equipment: = Steel lance = Vulnerary - Prevent being incapacitated. Three uses. = Pouch of Gold - Why fight when you can bribe? Has other uses as well. Seven uses. History: Victoria Pax is a wandering knight with no real quest or goal. Victoria was born into nobility as the only daughter of Count Ravencaller, a minor noble in a small corner of Barensia. Ever since she was young she was always a little too tomboyish and always wanted to be the valiant knight more than the damsel in distress. This position put her at odds with her family, mainly her mother. Her mother did not want Victoria trained in any military skills, however Her father allowed it. His excuse he used to get her mother to agree was that He needed someone to practice with Victoria's younger brother. This excuse was held off fights between her mother and Victoria for a few years. However, The ever increasing skills of Victoria eventually could not be ignored. When Victoria came of age, Her father took her on a walk through the castle. He asked her how serious she was about being a knight. She got excited as she explained how much she wanted it and she pleaded with her father. Her father was pleased to hear her response then showed her into a small room in the castle. In there was a custom suit of armor. Her father gave it to her under the condition this was her inheritance. If she took the armor, she would lose the right to use the name Ravencaller and any support from the family. Her father could no longer afford to hold back her mother. Victoria was given to morning to decide: Take the armor and lose everything, or abandon her dreams and submit to a dull, passive life. Victoria did not need to wait until morning. Victoria donned the armor, took her personal belongings, and walked out of the castle. She dropped her surname "Ravencaller" and took up the name Pax. She left without even looking back. Personality:
2,709	62	14	565	508	Eclisse was beside herself, most of everyone were chatting amongst themselves or doing something else entirely. Rule #1: Get to know your fellow warriors, know who your working with and whether or not you can trust them with your life. She could list off all ten of her uncle's rules on how to be a successful mercenary, even #8, but hopefully she wouldn't have to go over rule #8. Might as well get rule #1 out of the way, though mostly everyone was already chatting amongst themselves, all except for Taka, that outlaw who went to most likely "get" more food, the two manaketes, one of which seemed a bit sheepish around Eclisse, the apothecary, and that other noble, Angelise. If she were more into the money, Eclisse would've tried talking with the noblewoman, though getting to know the more... Unique members of the group might be more beneficial. So she decided on the manaketes, though she may have to be a bit slower with the sheepish one, Nyx. She started with the other one, Myno. "So... I've heard many tales on how powerful you manaketes can be. My uncle introduced me to a manakete once but I never actually got the chance to see him transform, maybe once we're out on the field or training you could show me how your transformation works?" She tried to sound as non-threatening as possible to show Nyx she wasn't to be afraid of, though she was curious as to how Myno would answer.	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,710	62	15	1,792	1,093	----Dragonrage Pass---- -Everyone- When Taka decided to get more food, the young prince thought it was a good idea to go with you. "H-hey, Taka was it? Let me come with you and help you out. We're going to need a lot of food for everyone here after all." He said. "I also need to look for my escort." He then turned to everyone else. "Everyone, just stay put and continue with the introductions okay?" -- You and Jarde make your way along to the supply tents but as you head there, you pass through the encampments of the Varjan contingent. You see sights of their large and bulky-armored warriors sitting around and... preparing their weapons? Varjo's military was always a battle-hungry bunch but you feel as if they are readying for a fight when there should not be any. Still, you reach the supply area without incident and there you see a blonde, red-armored woman who was quite in a foul mood with the chefs. "What do you mean there's no more of Sir Gert's Special?!" She complained quite loudly. "I personally met with him to make sure there was enough for everyone in this meeting! Including the Dwarves!" "M-Merilia..." Apparently Jarde knew this irritated woman. "...Please don't cause such a commotion." The woman name Merilia gasped when she heard Jarde's voice. "B-but my lord! A prince such as yourself must have the finest meals possible...!" While Jarde continued to calm Merilia down, you had begun your rather questionable method of acquiring food. You have swiped enough food and now you have to return to your peers. You probably need to take Prince Jarde and the red-armored woman with you too. But as you go about your business, you see several Varjan Warriors approaching you three. You spot their weapons on them and they walk towards you as if they were there for you and not the food. -Everyone except cloudystar- Moments after Prince Jarde and Taka leave, a strange and enigmatic figure approaches the bonfire. "Ahh... this must be the camp of... that regiment." The old, hoarse voice said. The figure was an old man whose hair on his head and face were a grayish white. He wore black robes with a few trinkets attached to it. "Very diverse. Just as they said." However, his voice then became grim. "But are you sure you want to stay in this group?" He asked everyone present. "He has a black streak in his hair. A sign of bad omen at best and an indicator of corruption at worst." He explained, likely referring to Jarde. "At least, according to the legends of The Concilium."	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,711	62	16	470	1,609	Taka Taka's fear of the close ranged weapons started to kick in a bit more...but his boss was here. He didn't flee and instead goes to his boss...poking him gently in the side. Quickly putting the food away for now on a nearby table, Taka keeps a wary yet shaky hand on his bow as the men kept approaching. Man...people are way too obsessive over things...laugh it out. Hiding his fear, he keeps giggling a bit as he tries to inform the prince and the woman. "Um...about the food earlier...may have well, taken a bit from the supply tent here. The men weren't really noticing and they were taking too long to eat all the platters of food that was being served so I just grabbed what I can and ate it. Don't know if they're going to be friendly...but if you can get me out of this, I'll be sure to do my best to serve your group. Won't steal from anyone in the group ever unless ordered, swear...but I'm kinda scared here to take care of this on my own. Can you help me please?" He may be laughing a bit and giggling throughout the conversation he tried to start...but his legs were kinda trembling. His false courage was easy to see through, but he wouldn't leave the captain depending on his answer...	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,712	62	17	1,836	2,626	Myno As the wyvern, Lyth, appeared, things started to take a turn for the more chaotic. As Lyth made his way towards Taka, he bumped and made people stumble. The maid had stumbled back and accidentally bumped into Alfred, who had been writing something, and was now ruined or he was distracted. Myno decided on the former when he saw the tactician grumble something under his breath but didn't really get angry at the maid. Well, he'd rather not see much drama in their introductions. However, whatever he seemed to be writing piqued the interest of both the maid and Nyx, as they looked over Alfred's shoulder to look at what was written. Taka then excused himself and then headed for the mess hall to get more food along with Prince Jarde. Then more introductions came - Cylus Thael, a swordsman from the same kingdom as him. Myno was sure he had heard the name Thael before but he couldn't put a face on it. He's lived for more than a few centuries now and it's pretty hard to remember every single name and face you find. Next was Eclisse, a mercenary from the Archanea as well, Myno was actually surprised how many of them were from the same kingdom. Then again, Myno didn't exactly grow in Archanea so maybe he did not count? Anyway, Eclisse seems to be sellsword, and he was pretty sure that she would be paid handsomely since this is the League of Arcadia they're talking about. Then the next one is Senshi, an apothecary, one who hails from Magi Val and who uses a bow and makes potions. Useful, definitely. Soon after, yet another person approached the campfire. A red headed woman, clad in heavy armor. Victoria Pax is her name and she is a knight. Interesting, however she followed it up with a question. "Indeed, this is Prince Jarde's division." He replied. Seeing as the prince was not present as of now thanks to him walking with Taka towards the mess hall, he decided to at least entertain the questions in his own short and straightforward ways. He then turned to Eclisse, the sellsword, as she put up a question to both Nyx and him but she was looking at him and that prompted him to answer, "I can certainly show you the transformation, that much is unavoidable. However, detailing how it works is quite difficult. I could certainly try, however, I cannot assure a very detailed step by step." Although his voice was monotone, it seems that he was fully willing to show her. After all, they were all going to be teammates. His eyes drifted to a newcomer. Old robes and trinkets, certainly this old man had been to places. However, Myno couldn't help but stiffen when he approached. Something about his just reeks... well, Myno couldn't describe it. It was like what was happening to Lyth, he was on full alert, as if this old man was some sort of danger. Animalistic instincts they may be, but they certainly help. He then listened to what the old man had said, warning them about the black streak on Jarde's hair and how legend has it that it is a bad omen or corruption. Roane questioned the man's indentity, but Myno had other things to say. "Just because the boy prince has a black streak, doesn't mean he's going to be a bad leader." He growled, eyes narrowing at the man. "Some legends aren't true. And it is better to judge a character after a while, rather than legends and appearances." He continued, calming down considerably but still not losing the poorly hidden agitation he held. Was he angry at the man? Perhaps. And the reason why? Instinct. And unlike Lyth, he had no person to calm him down.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,713	62	18	1,636	294	A dragon. A dragon. That thing's there since the beginning? Ange shook her head. She must've getting dizzy again. Might need to ask the maid later for some treatments. For her to miss something that big was a big shame. Now, being able to see it more clearly, she started to make some estimates about its size. Decent to good, nice. Shooting down wild, untrained wyverns ended up being pretty boring. Staring at its head, Ange measured it and started to figure out how well it would look as a trophy on top of a fireplace. She heard it could fly fast too. Her thought soared into the sky as she started to figure out the best way to take down the dragon once it flew away. Wait, it and its rider were supposed to be her allies. Right, right. Fatigue could cause her to drift off like that. At the sound of the introductions continued, Ange attempted her best to ground herself into the meeting so she could actually listen to them. A swordfighting instructor from Archaenea, a mercenary, an apote- Ah, that should be it! Ange thought that she could ask him for some herbs to help with her condition, but that should be for later. And then, lastly was the knight of red that appeared three times slower than the rest. Nobody else introduced themselves after that, and the outlaw and Prince Jarde had left the scene a while ago, apparently to get some food. Ange thought to talk with the others now, but she chose to be quiet for now. In a state like this where she's prone to delirium, she might embarrass herself. She couldn't afford to do that. In awkward silence, Ange watched as the outlaw had returned, and it was her cue to eat. She watched as the wyvern ravenously ravished the food present with its rider panicking to control it. The sight made her hungry. Ange settled with only bread and fruits despite the presence of meat there. She couldn't accept it. She wasn't the one that killed the source of the meat. Without the flavor her passion injected with an arrow through the flesh, the taste would be plain and soulless. Her soaring thoughts was shot down by the appearance of a creaky old man however. Suspicious. Shoot on sight? No, no reason to. He didn't pose any threat. His voice was grim now, and Ange had a bad feeling about this man as each words slurred from his aged lips. Bad omen? Corruption? Ancient legends? That didn't seem like something she should care about. Stories always had these groups be fueled by legends moving forward, but should they really listen to every creepy old man that spout cryptic messages? The rider asked the proper question regarding his identity and why was he around the group now. Ange decided that she was lucid enough to talk too now. "If he is actually corrupt and a bringer of bad omen, sooner or later he will sleep with an arrow cleaving his forehead. But putting that aside, he's the one gathering us here and organizing this for us, pretty much our leader now. Meanwhile...who ARE you?"	Name: Angelise Veltamiria Age: 23 Sex: Female Class: Bow Knight Special Abilities: Beastbane, Wyrmsbane, Clear Mind → Slayer Equipment: Wind Sword, Longbow History: Angelise was born as the second child of king Aravis of Juggdrali, however she grew up knowing for a fact that she had zero chance to inherit the throne, much to her delight. She grew up pursuing many interests, devouring books left and right and also indulged herself in physical training she wouldn't be able to partake in otherwise. She trained herself in using a bow, and at her early teens she already joined the biannual hunting event in the kingdom, alongside her father and older brother. She started off with birds and other smaller animals, but by then she grew to love the activity of hunting, and moved on to bigger games. She took it to herself to learn about where should she strike at her games to efficiently kill them, and at the end of it she became quite the accomplished hunter. As she grew up, she slowly realized the intense pressure of the noble families vying for influence in her small kingdom. Even with her trying her best to distance herself from them, Angelise felt that she was woefully unprepared to navigate through that mess, unlike her brother. After one point, she weighed her options about what kind of direction would her life go. Sooner or later, she felt that she could probably be married off to one of these nobles by her father, and the prospect worried her to some degree. Even hitting her twenties still didn't bring some closure to her dislike of taking some responsibilities on her back. So, in the end she asked her father whether it's fine for her to travel around the Concillium kingdoms with the excuse of helping to maintain good relationship and to inform him of any developments if she could. Her father agreed after a nights-long debate session, and so Angelise hit the road with her trusty horse. Of course, the main thing on Angelise' mind by then was her desire to bring home more trophies and to indulge herself with her hobby more (something her father was already aware of). Aware of the incidents involving the dwarves and Varjo that happened lately thanks to rumors, in the end she set out to find out more about it even if it's just because her father would order her to find out sooner or later and she couldn't afford to lose her current, fleeting freedom. Personality: Alright, in that case here it is. Haven't been able to expand the kingdom much here, but hopefully I'll be able to do it later.
2,714	62	19	1,533	1,707	Cylus made sure to keep an eye on the prince since he’d arrived. Even as he introduced himself and got to know those in his new unit, he continued to keep a watchful eye. Cylus didn’t lay claim to being from any one nation in the Concilium because he was a part of its fighting force. The way he saw it; everyone in the Concilium were his responsibility to defend, especially ruling bodies. So, naturally, Cylus took notice when Jarde left the area with the outlaw, Taka. Thael followed not far behind. He realized that this was a good decision - As they passed through the Varjo encampment Cylus took notice of their warriors preparing for battle. While they are always ready for a fight, this seemed out of place. The swordmaster moved his left hand to rest on the hilt of his blade as he made he way through the camp, behind the Prince. The sound of the camp wasn’t a quiet one, if the Prince and outlaw were having a conversation there was no possible way Cylus would hear it - the sound of chatter and metal clanking against metal was simple too much. As the duo entered the tent Cylus briefly lost sight of them. He made his way in, quickly. He found that there was a new member to the group, making it a trio. They were being challenged by several Varjo warriors, weapons drawn. Seeing the danger Cylus moved quickly. To the trio it probably would seemed that he’d materialized, the warriors would have seen him coming. He drew his sword, casually, and said “There’s no need for violence, my friends. This is Prince Jarde of Ereb - you would do to not harm him lest you feel the wrath of the Concilium.” He spoke casually because he didn’t feel that he needed to use any sort of intimidating voice.	Name: Cylus Thael Age: 27 Sex: Male Class: Sword Master Special Abilities: -Aggro -Iron Breaker Equipment: - Steel Sword - Steel Sword - Vulnerary History: Cylus was the third of four children, and the only son among his three sisters. Though it should be noted that, just because Cylus is now a master of the blade and grew up with sisters, he is not the toughest of his siblings. Cylus would actually consider himself the weakest of his immediate family. His parents are long dead, they didn’t die by any means more exciting than old age. But, his sisters are each tough in their own right and would, in Cylus’ words, wreck him in a fight. His eldest sister, Mira, leads a large contingent of the Concilium’s military. Silica, younger than Mira yet older than Cylus, teaches spell-craft in Magi Val and the youngest sibling, Alice, is a mercenary who travels lending her blade to whoever has the heaviest coin purse. None of this should point to Cylus being weak, just that he is from a family of fighters. He teaches swordmanship under his sister’s command in the Grand Army of the Concilium. For the past few years Cylus has found himself in Archanea teaching swordmanship along with other instructors of the bow, magic and other forms of combat, in the base there. Personality:
2,715	62	20	1,310	1,136	Nyx Is this destiny? Nyx went back to sitting on her own when her eyes notice something... No wait, a person dressed in heavy armor. The lady introduced herself as Victoria Pax. The manakete girl blushes and looks to the ground. She found the knight to be very pretty and sighs. She shakes her head as she tears up a bit. The lady reminded her slightly of her mother, but she knew fully well that her mother was long gone. She looks to the palm of her hand and tries to cheer up a bit. Nyx got up from her seat and wiped her eyes. She quickly rushes towards the knight and bows "M-m-my name is Nyx..." She keeps her head down as she tries to be polite to the knight as she felt like she needed to talk to someone eventually.	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,716	62	21	1,792	1,093	---Dragonrage Pass--- - & - “There’s no need for violence, my friends. This is Prince Jarde of Ereb - you would do to not harm him lest you feel the wrath of the Concilium.” The Varjan Warriors all looked at each other before returning their dark gazes unto you. "We were just going to get some food but you seem to have a better idea on how things should go." One of them replied before all of them readied their swords, maces and axes. Their lust for battle clearly stroked. Suddenly, Jarde stepped forward. "S-SO sorry for our getting in your way then! Ehehe..." He said to the warriors with a friendly albeit nervous tone. "So uhh, we shall be on our way! You guys just enjoy the food and stuff all right?" The prince continued before grabbing hold of Taka's arm. "Merilia, you handle him." "Yes, my lord." The red-armored woman said before seizing Cylus' arm. -, , , , , , & - The old man chuckled at the main question hurled at him, who was he? "Me? Well... I'm just a witness at the meeting between the Dwarven representatives and those of the Arcadia League." He answered while dodging the question. "It was quite the spectacle..." He continued as if reminiscing a fond memory. The old man then began walking away while a white-feathered avian landed on his shoulder. Those with sharp eyes would identify it as a crow, despite its coloration. -Everyone- Jarde returned to the camp with Taka, Cylus and a woman in red armor. It seemed two of them were half-dragged back there. "Seriously guys? Why in Naga's name would you agitate soldiers of Varjo?" He was more in disbelief than angry at Cylus and Taka. "Well, at least we off that scot-free. I hope nothing like that happens again." And just when he said that, a voice yelled in a panicked tone, catching everyone's attention. "The League has betrayed us! We are under attack!" The voice belonged to a Dwarf and he raised his voice so that everyone could hear him, especially his kin. The news shocked almost all of those present. "We must defend ourselves!" Moments after, another voice shouted. "Treachery! The Dwarves are attacking us! Treachery! " The voice belonged to a Footman of Gleivnir. While these news contradicted the first, it was still shocking to everyone who could hear it. "To arms! TO ARMS!" Suddenly, the atmosphere became chaotic and filled with the sounds of war as fighting immediately erupted everywhere. Dwarves and men begun clashing against each other but there were some who were still confused at the situation and so, just stood and watched as violence ensued. The Varjans, on the other hand, all seemed happy at the turn of events and happily threw themselves into the fray. Jarde and Merilia unsheathe their swords but engaged no one. Between the camp of the unusual regiment was a group of Dwarven Infantry and a group of Varjan Warriors. "My lord! What do we do? My lord!" The red-armored woman begged for an order from Prince Jarde but he could not give any. It appeared that the choice lay on those part of the prince's regiment.	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,717	62	22	565	508	Alfred Alfred smiled. It was to prove himself. Hopefully, the rest of this band would be able to match. He'd paid a little attention to their introductions, even after being interrupted by the maid. Ideas whirled through his head, but without any input from the prince, settling on something concrete would be ill-advised. A more general plan would better fit the situation. Alfred began calling out orders, pointing to each person as he did, and continuing to the next person without waiting for input from the previous. "Roane, get in the air and get an idea of the situation! Angelise, can you shoot from the back of a wyvern? Either way, it's time to learn. You go with Roane and stop any other archers from targeting her. If you cannot do that, switch places with Taka. "Everybody else, until I get a better idea of the situation and who exactly we're fighting, we'll be playing defense. As the most durable of the group, Myno, Nyx, and Victoria will form the basis for our front line, our first line of defense. Behind them will be Eclisse, Cylus, and Prince Jarde. If you three see an opportunity ahead of the front, take advantage, but fall back right away, unless you like getting shot. Otherwise, attack anybody who gets past the front. "Taka, Senshi, the Maid, and myself will be support. Taka and Senshi, take shots on any enemies out of our front's reach, and finish off the weakened ones. Senshi, maid, if anyone's looking weak, heal them. Maid, you'll also be using your knives to weaken any particularly tough enemies. I'll use my magic against any armored enemies, and my sword on any that slip past the front. "Was that everyone? Of course, I'll be making changes to the dynamic if the situation changes or our Prince has any objections. Any questions?" Before anybody answered, Alfred pulled out a slim, wooden wand from his belt. Pressing it to his skin, he traced the tattoo on his arm. As the wand touched the tattoo, the ink began to glow a pale white. Once one complete portion of the tattoo was traced, Alfred smiled, and his eyes began to glow with the same white. He flourished the wand and called out, "Summon!"	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,718	62	23	470	1,609	Taka "Hey, can I go on the ride please? I'll guarantee you guys I won't miss a shot...as long as I'm just away from the fighting. And they weren't even going to eat it sir! But...since you and that sword guy backed me up there, I'll be sure to stay true and won't bug the either of you. Thank you...and tactician guy, are we seriously going to try and kill these guys if they attack? I don't mind doing that...but just feels strange if we do so." Taka started to get his arrows out and aiming a bit...trying to gauge the wind speed and such before he shoots. The same old bow he used and was handed down by his grandfather, its comfortable iron sleekness aiding in his grip as he aims. The Outlaw was a precision shooter and hates missing, but...his grand weakness was terrible. His grandfather's words echoing through his head, "Don't get to close...you'll miss every shot unless you have an ally or hidden. That's your weakness, so run when you can...unless you're defending your leader. Then don't forget to die with honor." Gramps, you have one hell of a mindset. Getting a bit closer to the Wyvern rider, he bows a bit toward her and her mount. He tries to convince her that he can get shots off without trouble as he does so. "If you two don't mind me...I'll gladly shoot behind you guys. And don't worry, I'll grip onto the saddle...got a knack for doing crazy stuff like this. Yes, that includes stealing."	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,719	62	24	1,533	1,707	“Right!” Cylus was no stranger to combat but he would not refuse the advice of a seasoned tactician. He moved quickly to his position as the fighting began. It wasn't near them yet since the enemy still had to come from their camps, but that didn't mean that they didn't have agents within the Concilium’s ranks. The swordsman drew his blade once again, the leather grip comfortable in his calloused hands. He held the blade at the ready, at his right. As he stood, the sound of a fierce battle could be heard from the north. He couldn't help but wonder when he'd be given the order to advance, but as far as he was concerned the Prince’s life should be preserved at all costs. So, he would remain where he was for the time being. Not even a minute after the battle began he heard the yelling of a strong female voice. “DON’T GIVE THEM AN INCH! PRESS THE ATTACK!” It was General Mira Thael, Cylus’ eldest sister. He couldn't see her but could clearly hear her over all of the commotion. She appeared out of the fray and stopped in the group's camp, she never stopped shouting orders. She was atop a white horse and her steel armor gleamed in the sunlight. She stabbed her steel claymore, which she held aloft with one arm while the other controlled her steed, in different directions as she barked orders.	Name: Cylus Thael Age: 27 Sex: Male Class: Sword Master Special Abilities: -Aggro -Iron Breaker Equipment: - Steel Sword - Steel Sword - Vulnerary History: Cylus was the third of four children, and the only son among his three sisters. Though it should be noted that, just because Cylus is now a master of the blade and grew up with sisters, he is not the toughest of his siblings. Cylus would actually consider himself the weakest of his immediate family. His parents are long dead, they didn’t die by any means more exciting than old age. But, his sisters are each tough in their own right and would, in Cylus’ words, wreck him in a fight. His eldest sister, Mira, leads a large contingent of the Concilium’s military. Silica, younger than Mira yet older than Cylus, teaches spell-craft in Magi Val and the youngest sibling, Alice, is a mercenary who travels lending her blade to whoever has the heaviest coin purse. None of this should point to Cylus being weak, just that he is from a family of fighters. He teaches swordmanship under his sister’s command in the Grand Army of the Concilium. For the past few years Cylus has found himself in Archanea teaching swordmanship along with other instructors of the bow, magic and other forms of combat, in the base there. Personality:
2,720	62	25	1,836	2,626	Myno The old man seemed to have come from somewhere, and disappeared after he said his piece. A crow's feather? Before he could move to stop the old man from leaving, Prince Jarde and the others had returned with the boy prince asking the others why they would agitate Varjan wariors. Whatever happened there would've turned ugly if not for some quick thinking, Myno guessed. Then, he could hear a voice above the rest. The dwarf, he assumed, warned his brethren about how the League of Arcadia had betrayed them. What? Before he could properly react to the news, he heard another one; this time from the League of Arcadia stating that the drawves were attacking. Myno's eyebrows creased. The news were contradicting. Which was true? And which was false? He could hear the roar of battle somewhere up north, the first line of defense that was made by the League of Arcadia. He could see Varjan warriors marching up, ready for a fight. No, for a war. A dwarf regiment had also made their way near them and was heading towards them. Two armies - one the enemy and the other an ally. But he couldn't be too sure with the Varjan warriors. So he didn't know which he could side with... Myno felt his heart pumping adrenaline as the only thing in his mind was to kill. However, the woman who came back with Prince Jarde and the others had begun asking the prince for orders. The Manakete turned to them and saw that the prince seemed shock, despite him unsheathing his sword. If not for Alfred taking the lead for orders, he would've tried to fight anyone who got too close. But it seems the order was just that, act as the first line of defense, anyone who attacks will be attacked. Defend the regiment at all costs. They were siding with no one but themselves. Fair enough for him. "Got it." He positioned himself in the front. Calm down, defend, do not attack unless attacked. However, he did not transform as if to make himself less intimidating as he stared down on both sides, looking left and right. Besides, the transformation doesn't take too horribly long. It only takes a moment and he was experienced in attacking right after the transformation. Besides, he would be a big-ass target if he transformed and since it's just defense he'd need them to get closer.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,721	62	26	470	1,609	Taka Taka laughs as she says that to him and simply uses one hand to hold onto the saddle. He wasn't really scared of heights considering how most of his break-outs from a location involved him jumping from a roof to a lower one. However, he did not expect that amount of wind rushing to his face and did make him nearly lose his grip on his bow for only a moment. Scowling at his loose grip, he starts getting seated in a better way as he started to aim down at the crowds...waiting for a signal to shoot or anything really. "Should have seen me shoot when I was hanging upside down...but if I pull this off, I'm definitely going to try and remember this as the newest and weirdest shot I've ever pulled off. Great flying by the way if you don't mind me saying since I'm a non-flying person...is the wind...always like this? Kinda hard against the face." He didn't mind the speed they were going at though and enjoyed the ride as long as he could. After all, what are the chances he'd get to ride on a Wyvern again in the nearby future?	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,722	62	27	1,636	294	Hunt? Was it the time already? Angelise's expression was calm as she prepared her bow. She was ordered to ride on the wyvern alongside the rider and snipe them from above. But the outlaw had approached the rider before her, and it's for the best, really. Ange disliked that much height. Who knew what she might do if she panicked while being up there. Her own mount wasn't too far away from the group thankfully, and the first order of action she had was to immediately secure herself on top of her horse. From above it, she could see the situation more clearly, and even as she approached the Strategist, her eyes were already busy with picking potential targets for her to tear apart. "Hey, Sir Strategist," Ange pouted a bit as she said that - she was reminded about how bad she was about remembering names. Thankfully she wasn't involving herself with politics at all. "I think it is fine if I stay in the backline, right? I'll refrain from attacking for now, but once you order me to-" She wasn't able to finish her sentence with the maid panickingly asking about why did everyone let the old man go. Oh, right. Ange almost forgot about him, but there were barely any traces of him left nearby. She had a point, of course. Something definitely must have happened. But then there's this woman yelling to press the attack. What? It's hard to figure out what was actually going on for the time being, and Ange's grip on her bow tightened. In a time of distress, her urge rose like a glass that was continuously being filled with the pressure of the situation. Ah, the sound of arrows piercing flesh, a beautiful sound that could soothe any souls. Merely imagining it calmed her for the time being, and she continued what she wanted to say to the strategist. "Uh so...right, Sir strategist. I am quite confident that I have a range advantage compared to enemy bowmen if they possessed any. They shall be my first priority as you ordered to me earlier, however, pray tell whether there are any targets that I should also prioritize?" One deep breath. Something slipped. "And is it fine if I shoot them now?"	Name: Angelise Veltamiria Age: 23 Sex: Female Class: Bow Knight Special Abilities: Beastbane, Wyrmsbane, Clear Mind → Slayer Equipment: Wind Sword, Longbow History: Angelise was born as the second child of king Aravis of Juggdrali, however she grew up knowing for a fact that she had zero chance to inherit the throne, much to her delight. She grew up pursuing many interests, devouring books left and right and also indulged herself in physical training she wouldn't be able to partake in otherwise. She trained herself in using a bow, and at her early teens she already joined the biannual hunting event in the kingdom, alongside her father and older brother. She started off with birds and other smaller animals, but by then she grew to love the activity of hunting, and moved on to bigger games. She took it to herself to learn about where should she strike at her games to efficiently kill them, and at the end of it she became quite the accomplished hunter. As she grew up, she slowly realized the intense pressure of the noble families vying for influence in her small kingdom. Even with her trying her best to distance herself from them, Angelise felt that she was woefully unprepared to navigate through that mess, unlike her brother. After one point, she weighed her options about what kind of direction would her life go. Sooner or later, she felt that she could probably be married off to one of these nobles by her father, and the prospect worried her to some degree. Even hitting her twenties still didn't bring some closure to her dislike of taking some responsibilities on her back. So, in the end she asked her father whether it's fine for her to travel around the Concillium kingdoms with the excuse of helping to maintain good relationship and to inform him of any developments if she could. Her father agreed after a nights-long debate session, and so Angelise hit the road with her trusty horse. Of course, the main thing on Angelise' mind by then was her desire to bring home more trophies and to indulge herself with her hobby more (something her father was already aware of). Aware of the incidents involving the dwarves and Varjo that happened lately thanks to rumors, in the end she set out to find out more about it even if it's just because her father would order her to find out sooner or later and she couldn't afford to lose her current, fleeting freedom. Personality: Alright, in that case here it is. Haven't been able to expand the kingdom much here, but hopefully I'll be able to do it later.
2,723	62	28	2,238	2,226	Senshi, calmly put away all of the things he had taken out before the fighting. He stood up and drew his bow, "I will do has you have ordered Sir Alfred. But I may not be able to heal that well, as I do not have a large amount of Vulenary on my person. But might I suggest we not openly attack anyone." Senshi placed himself behind everyone. He took aim with his bow at the nearest non member of the group. He took a deep breathe, and calmed his nerves he had only been in a few battles against bandits and so this large conflict scared him, but he would show no fear.	Name:Senshi Sex: Male Appearance: A short man, standing at about just under 5 feet tall, Shenshi wears short black hair that looks slightly singed at the tip. He wears simple clothes, which resemble those of a peasants,and always has a heavy brown leather apron on over them. The pockets of his apron are stuffed with herbs and flowers. He has green eyes. And is 24 years old. Class: Apothecary Special Abilities: Pick, Extra Pockets. Equipment: Iron bow, Vulnerary, Pouch of Gold, Panacea. History: Senshi, lived in Magi Val his entire life. He worked his families' potion shop for years, but he always had the urge to go and adventure the world. His brother was a hunter and taught Senshi how to use a bow, Senshi had kept a daily routine to practice archery and potion making. One day his small village was attacked and destroyed by Bandits, his family was killed but he did not mourn for long because he set his mind on revenge. After helping his village rebuild Senshi set off to find the bandits and kill them. Personality: (I read the rules so this is blank yes?)
2,724	62	29	1,310	1,136	Nyx Bad memories Nyx heard screaming and fell to the ground. Immediately her mind begins to replay the traumatic event of her parents dying and leaving her on her own. She curls up on the ground as she tries to not be controlled by her memories. The blood running down the walls of her hiding place and her vision began to fade. She didn't seem to be responsive. Nyx looked around. She seemed to be in a place of existence which was created by her mind. She wandered endlessly looking around. She felt as if this place was familiar yet she wasn't completely certain why. Next thing she knew she was a child again and this time she had a chance to save her family rather than hiding. What she sees is far worse than her parents wanted. Nyx had been murdered. But everything faded back into the white void of her mind. She goes back to wandering and searching for a way out. Meanwhile on the battlefield Nyx was still lying on the ground, except she was moaning and groaning in pain. It was evident what was wrong with Nyx. She had no control...	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,725	62	30	1,836	2,626	Myno Myno stopped and turned as he heard a soft thud. His eyes furrowed as he saw Nyx, on the ground. She looked unconscious, but she was letting out groans of pain. She was having a nightmare. The blond Manakete did not understand this reaction. She claimed that she reached Gaia's war, and yet, why did she pass out? Most who came out of the battle became hardened and strong - as if nothing can faze them now. And yet, here he was, looking at a Manakete having nightmares after the battle had started. Although the truth quickly dawned upon him. Those who came out of Gaia's war who were soldiers became hardened, but there were civilians who were struck with terror. Hm, well, he can't doubt the fact that there were soldiers suffering from trauma after the battle. The things they had to endure, the things they had to see, sometimes, it was all too much. Perhaps Nyx went through something. A traumatic experience perhaps? Loss of kin? Near-death experience? Well, now was not the time to speculate. They were in the middle of battle. Perhaps they would find out later on. It was inconvenient, to have a powerful ally incapacitated, but such is life. "Sir Senshi, if you can please take care of her, it would be much appreciated." He told the apothecary who was stationed at the back lines. With that said, he turned back to the enemies and prepared himself again.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,726	62	31	864	838	Roane Roane smiled crookedly. "Trust me, Sir," she said over the roar of the wind, "when I say that this is nothing." Lyth stilled his ascent, great wings flapping as he flew in place. Roane glance back at Takayuki, giving a small nod once she saw that he thankfully hadn't fallen off, before switching her attention the the ensuing battle below. For all she could see, chaos reigned supreme. Warrior fought warrior, axe met sword. The gathering, initially peaceful, was wrought with clashing bodies and the cries of bitter conflict.Yet amongst the madness, there lingered strings of confusion. Soldiers, both dwarves and of the League, hovered on the sidelines, unsure of who or where to strike. Any movements to strike were half-hearted. Reluctant, even. Only the Varjan's seems to really embrace the brutal atmosphere. Roane narrowed her eyes. Even curiouser, that strange man and his bird were nowhere in sight. Seemingly as if they'd vanished into thin air. She shook her head to clear the foolish thought. No, of course not. What she needed was a better view. Roane steered Lyth a few feet towards the ground, trying to get a good bearing of the battlefield. "Alright, Lyth, just a bit--GAH!" An arrow, its origins lost in the ensuing discord, streaked through the sky, missing the wyvern and passengers by a mere hairline. Yet that was enough for him to cry out, twisting wildly in midair as panic overtook sensibility. With a sharp cry, Roane instinctively snatched the reigns and turned to grab Taka. Her iron-tight grip held them precariously in place as Lyth bucked in the air. "If you're gonna make that crazy shot," she gasped as she struggled to regain balance, "you better make it fast!"	Name: Roane Teresse Class: Wyvern Rider Special Abilities: = Beastbane (Passive) - All weapons are effective against beasts. = Iron Wings (Passive) - Negates the effectiveness of bows against flying units except Manaketes Equipment: • Iron Ax • Vulnerary • Pouch of Gold History: The eldest of seven siblings, Roane was born in a remote farming community on the outskirts of Ereb. Life was hard, her father having passed of illness when she was barely twelve, and poverty and labor forced her to grow up fast. Despite the hardships, Roane's mother would often weave tales of whimsical lands and grand adventures by the smoldering coals of their hearth at night. The stories, though fictional, stilled a sense of idealism in Roane. A small spark of belief that one day, whether by the will of the gods or the mysterious twining of fate, she too would get her adventure. What she didn't expect was for that wish to be granted in the form of a mischievous wyvern hatchling. Roane's meeting with Lyth was one of bizarre circumstance. While hunting in the woods, Roane was surprised by a series of high-pitched squeaks. Following the noise, she found a game trap with a broken-winged wyvern hatchling trapped inside. How he he had gotten there in the first place was a mystery in of itself. Nevertheless, Roane took pity on the creature and rescued it from its bindings. From then on, Roane raised and nurtured the hatchling, whom she dubbed 'Lyth', until his wing was healed. Over time, however, the two grew close and when when it came Lyth's time to leave, he instead stayed behind with his newfound friend. Years passed, Roane's sense of adventure growing with each season. Trips past the woods and around the neighboring mountains became more frequent. On one such occasion, the rider and her steed stumbled across a violent scene. In the middle of a mountain path was a small group of bandits leading away the bound form of a young girl. Without even thinking, Roane charged towards the fiends, managing to snatch the girl from their grasps before flying to safety. Upon their arrival home, the girl revealed herself to be Lady K'shein of the House of Niveana. She told of how she had been stolen away in the night and forced to travel for miles before being rescuers by Roane. In gratitude, K'Shein proposed to Roane a position on her royal guard. Roane accepted in heartbeat, paving the way to a life beyond the fields of her past. Done!
2,727	62	32	1,792	1,093	---Dragonrage Pass--- - & - High up in the air, both of you could see the battle between man and Dwarf raging. There were some who were still confused regarding the situation but as the fighting went on, the confusion waned. Ironically, that brought more chaos as more soldiers and warriors entered the fray. The two of you also spot a huge tent lit up in flames. It was likely the place where the meeting between the Dwarves and the Arcadia League took place and where the cause of this conflict originated. However, investigating would be rather problematic as any evidence or clues were probably burned or burning away with the tent. But that was likely not your primary concern for you spot a dozen or so Dwarves with crossbows aiming their weapons at you. Since you were one of the very few soldiers up in the air, it should not be too much of a surprise that a lot of enemy projectiles are focused onto you. You might want to do something about that. -, , , , , , , & - Before even battle could be joined, there was already one unconscious: The Manakete Nyx. But that didn't stop the two opposing groups from charging. With loud cries of war, the Dwarves and the Varjans collided into battle and began a bloody brawl with Prince Jarde's regiment caught in the middle. The Varjans, on one hand, mostly ignored the regiment. Apparently they think of you as fellow soldiers of the League of Arcadia. For now at least. The Dwarves on the other hand... Some five Dwarves charge at Myno and Victoria with their axes held high. Another five ignored the front line since they were already occupied and charged at the second line of Jarde, Eclisse and Cylus. Fortunately, no Dwarf were remotely near Angelise, Estelle, Alfred, Senshi and a summoned Tarvos. Rather unfortunately, one Varjan recognized Cylus and immediately singled him out. "YOU! You were with the thief who stole our food! You little wretch!" He raised his two-handed axe to strike but the attack was parried by Merilia and kicked away the Varjan. The black-armored warrior was not at all amused and proceeded to duel the red-armored Hero. One can notice that this Varjan did not look like a Warrior. No, he was an Elite. Much more dangerous than a Warrior. His friends noticed this little scene and promptly shifted their priorities. Now some three Varjan Elites had zeroed in Angelise, Estelle, Alfred and Senshi along with the unconscious Nyx. The Tarvos that was summoned sensed the danger and proceeded to charge at the Varjan Elites.	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,728	62	33	470	1,609	Taka Immediately getting pissed after the first shot, he took aim at the Dwarves who were aiming at them with the crossbows. He was really enjoying the ride and would much rather just enjoy it, so the fact that they dared to shoot made him quite frustrated. The fact that they also missed when himself and Roane were not paying any attention added even more fuel to his anger. The fear for close ranged weapons wasn't apparent when it involved a duel between long-ranged fighters such as those Dwarves. Soon, his bow was rapidly being strung and made swift ffffwwiiipppsss. Each arrow weren't meant to kill, but swift shots to injure if not cripple each crossbowmen so that he can focus on the next target as quick as possible. His rain of arrows being the response to the Dwarf crossbowmen, this Outlaw wasn't going to let his Wyvern friend and Wyvern Rider get hurt by such bad shots. Taka laughs as he sent so many accurate shots, happy that he actually brought some extra arrows for this situation. "Don't call me Sir, just call me Taka! I'm nothing but a Thief who could hit more shots than these idiots! Hehe, this'll be a fun challenge, and go as fast as you want Roane. I trust you and don't worry about me if you do anything more crazy than this, that's what makes this fun! If there is anything you want me to shoot at, just give me a quick description of the target. I'll be sure to at least hit the target."	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,729	62	34	2,238	2,226	Senshi nodded at Myno, "I'll see what I can do, but I guarantee nothing as I do not know what the problem is." Shifting himself towards the unconscious Nyx. Moving next to her,after putting away his bow,he produced from his pockets a small bundle of herbs. Shoving the bundle of herbs into the fire an acrid smell filled the surrounding area, taking the smoking bundle of herbs Senshi pushes them up against Nyx's nose hoping that the smell would revive the unconscious manakete."I hope this works on manakete's like it does others."Senshi thought to himself, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder he caught a glimpse of the Varjan elites headed towards them, he turned to face the oncoming threat as the summoned Tarvos charged towards the Varjan elites. He re-drew his bow and placed an arrow upon its string, taking careful aim he loosed the shaft at the closest elite aiming for the shoulder of the arm carrying the elites weapon.	Name:Senshi Sex: Male Appearance: A short man, standing at about just under 5 feet tall, Shenshi wears short black hair that looks slightly singed at the tip. He wears simple clothes, which resemble those of a peasants,and always has a heavy brown leather apron on over them. The pockets of his apron are stuffed with herbs and flowers. He has green eyes. And is 24 years old. Class: Apothecary Special Abilities: Pick, Extra Pockets. Equipment: Iron bow, Vulnerary, Pouch of Gold, Panacea. History: Senshi, lived in Magi Val his entire life. He worked his families' potion shop for years, but he always had the urge to go and adventure the world. His brother was a hunter and taught Senshi how to use a bow, Senshi had kept a daily routine to practice archery and potion making. One day his small village was attacked and destroyed by Bandits, his family was killed but he did not mourn for long because he set his mind on revenge. After helping his village rebuild Senshi set off to find the bandits and kill them. Personality: (I read the rules so this is blank yes?)
2,730	62	35	1,836	2,626	Myno Right after Senshi dragged the unconscious Nyx back, five dwarves have made their way towards them. The stone on the bracer on his right forearm began to glow. He was enveloped in the light which created the illusion of a flower wrapping him. It only lasted for a moment though and when it disappeared, the human Myno had disappeared. In his place was a pale yellow dragon. He flapped his wings to propel him backward as one of the dwarves attacked him (but he took precautions to not hit any of the others). He felt something light up in his belly and he bellowed out a fire breath that would hopefully hit three or four of them.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,731	62	36	1,310	1,136	Nyx A final sign of things to come. Nyx wasn't unconscious but it sure did seem like it besides her groaning of pain. She does feel her body being moved and herbs being shoved into her face. This has no effect besides making her want to be sick. She curls up and is sick, but she still wasn't aware of what was happening around her. The groaning gets more intense as her necklace was glowing faintly. Meanwhile in Nyx's mind, she is still wandering around in the endless void. But something was starting to change, her vision was beginning to blur as if she was losing... well herself within what was happening. She knew this couldn't be good, but she was unsure what was happening.	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,732	62	37	864	838	Roane Roane gritted her teeth as control was gained once more. The wind whipped around them, its howls mingled with the screams of battle. Louder, louder, louder, until it was nothing more than an orchestra of blades and bloodshed behind a dance of death. Arrows flew by, barely missing the careening dragon, and seemed to near ever more with each aim. Yet it was by the skill of Roane's new compatriot, Taka, that they managed to last this long. With a great flap, Lyth was steered higher at a stomach plunging rate to escape an onslaught of arrows. The air grew colder and thinner, the wind blowing faster and faster. It was only by Roane's constantly flying that lightheadedness hadn't taken hold. Her dark eyes roamed over the battlefield, searching for the source of the arrows. She needed a plan, a direction, a target. Something to attack admits the ensuing discord. A flicker of flame and smoke caught her eye. She lifted her gaze, her body going rigid from shock. A tent, one of the largest in the vicinity, burned as bright as the bonfire. The meeting place. The location for all important peoples to gather and discuss. People like Lady K'shein. At once, the noise seemed louder. Her skin was colder. A bout of dizziness stirred her mind. No. Lady K'shein was alright. She had to be alright. She...Lady...Her Lady... Roane's grief was cut short as a roar pierced the chilly air. Her grip on the reins tightened and she quickly reached back to trap Taka as Lyth bucked and descended at a stomach wrenching rate. The wings flapped, extended, and eventually stabilized as they neared the ground. But the damage was already done. An arrow's shaft erupted from Lyth's thick hide. Roane looked around wildly, frantically steering the wyvern away as another arrow arced towards them. This time, she could see its source. "Taka!" she called, nodding to some cross-bow armed dwarves. "Over there!" She dared to fly closer, ax out and ready for a fight. Her eyes burned with anger and outrage as bright as the flaming tent. She knew not what happened. She knew not who had done the sin. The only matter that burned in her mind was that, whatever happened now, she would do in her Lady's name. Wherever she may be...	Name: Roane Teresse Class: Wyvern Rider Special Abilities: = Beastbane (Passive) - All weapons are effective against beasts. = Iron Wings (Passive) - Negates the effectiveness of bows against flying units except Manaketes Equipment: • Iron Ax • Vulnerary • Pouch of Gold History: The eldest of seven siblings, Roane was born in a remote farming community on the outskirts of Ereb. Life was hard, her father having passed of illness when she was barely twelve, and poverty and labor forced her to grow up fast. Despite the hardships, Roane's mother would often weave tales of whimsical lands and grand adventures by the smoldering coals of their hearth at night. The stories, though fictional, stilled a sense of idealism in Roane. A small spark of belief that one day, whether by the will of the gods or the mysterious twining of fate, she too would get her adventure. What she didn't expect was for that wish to be granted in the form of a mischievous wyvern hatchling. Roane's meeting with Lyth was one of bizarre circumstance. While hunting in the woods, Roane was surprised by a series of high-pitched squeaks. Following the noise, she found a game trap with a broken-winged wyvern hatchling trapped inside. How he he had gotten there in the first place was a mystery in of itself. Nevertheless, Roane took pity on the creature and rescued it from its bindings. From then on, Roane raised and nurtured the hatchling, whom she dubbed 'Lyth', until his wing was healed. Over time, however, the two grew close and when when it came Lyth's time to leave, he instead stayed behind with his newfound friend. Years passed, Roane's sense of adventure growing with each season. Trips past the woods and around the neighboring mountains became more frequent. On one such occasion, the rider and her steed stumbled across a violent scene. In the middle of a mountain path was a small group of bandits leading away the bound form of a young girl. Without even thinking, Roane charged towards the fiends, managing to snatch the girl from their grasps before flying to safety. Upon their arrival home, the girl revealed herself to be Lady K'shein of the House of Niveana. She told of how she had been stolen away in the night and forced to travel for miles before being rescuers by Roane. In gratitude, K'Shein proposed to Roane a position on her royal guard. Roane accepted in heartbeat, paving the way to a life beyond the fields of her past. Done!
2,733	62	38	565	508	This wasn't good, with nyx in a vulnerable position and the varjan and dwarven forces closing in, it was coming to the point Eclisse had to start swing blackfang around. The Tarvos that was summoned was keeping the attackers back a bit, but some were sure to slip on by, and their sights were set right at the groups back row. "I don't think so!" Using her speed advantage over the Varjan's, Eclisse rushed in against the attackers and brandished her blade. Varjan soldiers were known for their strength so she wasn't expecting to cut them down immediately, she was more focused on chipping them away with a combination of blackfang's poisoned blade and her swift strikes. After she had dealt her blow against the Varjan's, Eclisse doubled back to keep the group's back line safe.	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,734	62	39	2,517	568	Tomoe "Those dastards didn't hesitate to make this difficult," Tomoe muttered, gripping her shielded naginata as she surveyed the conditions. Dwarves on one end, and heavily-armored men on the other, the likes of which Tomoe had never seen in her home; both groups were set upon the company that Tomoe was assigned to. It certainly wouldn't help at all to fail my mission out of the gate, Tomoe thought. She had to be careful; the many assassins she's deterred over the course of her career do not compare to the scale of these troops. Tomoe charted out the best method to get through these swaths of enemy units; both sides were fraught in strife, and the dwarven soldiers appeared to be using axes and bows. That being said, their proximity and numbers made it clear (at least to those unfamiliar with the Varjans) that the dwarves were the ones that needed to be cleared out. Also there were a couple of them moving towards Jarde. Not good. Tomoe, with both hands, held her naginata so that the shield was slanted diagonally. She decided to enter from the side of the dwarven archers; while their sight was trained upon the fliers, Tomoe could very well at least disrupt them. In addition to that, the wyvern rider appeared to be their target, and it would buy her more time to regain control and land safely if the number of shooters was thinned. Tomoe ran in, blade drawn and shield forward. She made a quick attempt at eye contact with Taka, then with Roane, hoping this would indicate that she’s no enemy. Then, she swung her naginata around like a door, barging into the dwarven archers. She set her sights upon Prince Jarde, making that connection her first priority. However, she checked to make sure she wouldn't be surrounded; the Guard Naginata only offered such a radius of shielding.	Sweet! Tomoe Minamoto Appearance: The chest and torso of her kimono is lavender, and the sleeves are dark orange. Her hair is also lavender, while the sash tied behind her iron armor is purplish-white. Her shoes and leggings are cool dark-grey. Sex: Female Class: Lance Fighter Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Pick Equipment: Guard Naginata, Vulnerary, Steel Naginata History: Tomoe was born the daughter to a locksmith; her mother passed away in childbirth, and upon finding out this fact Tomoe felt a sense of guilt. Not wanting to see his daughter so despondent, Tomoe’s father attempted to set aside Tomoe’s guilt and teach her how to build locks. Young Tomoe grew to love the time she spent with her father, as she would never feel alone while her father was around. She was exceptionally attached to her father and, in her early years, would cry if her father left. Tomoe was inspired to join the military in part due to her feelings of guilt, but largely by the lance fighters of her home country, especially the ones who had the duty of bodyguards. She admired those who had the strength to protect the important. Tomoe wanted to be that kind of person who could serve and protect; she couldn’t keep her mother alive, but she would fight to protect the people of her nation, especially the people who were responsible for representing those folks. As such, she joined the military. This prospect led to a very serious discussion with her father about joining the force. Perhaps her father saw a bit of his own sentiment in his daughter, and understood her motives. He gave her a locket containing a small portrait of her parents for safekeeping, as well as the tiny key to that locket. With a bit of guidance from the blue-haired tailor from across the street who was apparently also a member of the military, Tomoe enlisted and went through rigorous training through particularly the use of the naginata (perhaps in part due to her inspiration from said tailor). Eventually, she was called upon for numerous escort jobs, gaining a reputation as one of the most effective bodyguards in the land. She became known as a bane of assassins, and one of the most trusted guards among the royalty. She frequently wrote home to her father, and tinkered with locks and keys in her spare time. One job led to another, and she eventually found herself on mission to Arcadia, further than she had ever gone before. Of course she was nervous; she would be far away from everyone she knew, but she was determined to do her job and serve as protection. Naginata in hand, Tomoe set off. Tomoe becomes anxious if alone, and she is very protective of anyone she considers a friend. She is genuinely kindhearted, and not vengeful. She likes to spend her free time in her hobby of locksmithing, using whatever materials she can scrounge up to craft tumblers and keys, though she finds this a little hard to do on the road given the paucity of time, wood, or metal. She’s been known to purposely take hits to show off, but other than that, her job doesn’t give her such a big head. Born on Nov. 10th. Has the best sleight of hand in the army. -"HANDS OFF!" -"Click! You're dead." -"DROP. YOUR. WEAPON." -"BARRIER OF JUSTICE!" Personality:
2,735	62	40	1,836	2,626	Myno The Manakete wanted to smirk when the three dwarves were sent back thanks to his fire breath, but he knew not to focus on that only, and not to celebrate on minor victories like that. As if to emphasize on that, the two other dwarves were already hacking away at his scales. He let out a roar of anger and then spun around, his tail would hit one of the dwarves and he would attempt to grab another one with his mouth. If successful, he would flail around and throw it away. Barbaric? Yes. Needed? Perhaps not. But that was the only thing he thought that he could do. He certainly couldn't fly, lest he be barraged with arrows that would most likely hurt, as evidenced by the rocky flight of Roane and Taka. Whether or not he would succeed, he would, once again, propel himself backwards to keep his distance, but still took extra precautions to not get involved on the other fights. He had enough on his hands. Wait, didn't he have another- His train of thought was cut off when Victoria told him that she'll be back and to hold the dwarves off for a while. Myno would sigh in exasperation but he had no other choice in the matter. He let out a grunt of approval before shooting a fire ball at the group of dwarves that were closing in with the attempt to scatter and disorient them.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,736	62	41	565	508	Eclisse was able to hold her own surprisingly well, though the same couldn't be said for the tarvos as it was cut down with no problem. The varjans would've got her too if not for angelise sending waves of wind magic to help her. She backed off to get a position by angelise. "Thanks... I would've been missing my head if you hadn't done that." Eclisse had to show her appreciation after the battle but first things first, those varjans may be tough enough to resist the poison, but it was only a matter of time before it starts effecting them badly. "Hey, can you get the manakete to my horse, Myrmidon? I'm going to return to my post and attack them from range again, but first this girl needs to be carried to safety." Angelise had a point, Nyx needed to get to safety in her current situation. Eclisse quickly lifted up the manakete while giving a reassuring look to the apothecary. "I doubt herbs will help with a panic attack... Just stick behind us and fire any shots you can!" Eclisse placed Nyx on angelise's horse, but the varjans were far from done. They had recovered from the wind magic but were weakened enough to where they could be dealt with. "Ok... Cover me, i'm going in!" she told angelise as she went in to cut the varjans up again.	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,737	62	42	1,836	2,626	Myno The Manakete had been planning to take to the air, noticing the distracted Bolters at the back of the line, and then attempt to pick off the Dwarves one by one. With the ones after him not having anything to shoot him out from the sky, it would be easy to just hurt them through his fire. He had been thinking that he was winning this unfavorable battle of one versus many. He was a fool for thinking so. He was a fool for believing that only those he can see had been posing at him for a battle. He failed to realize that there was another person aiming at him. Searing pain. Boiling hot water, liquid, whatever it was. It was hot. He could feel it slowly eating away at his scales. He looked over and saw the red liquid on his back. He could barely hear Jarde over the thumping of his heart that was prevalent. He growled in anger but the pain was great, he needed to leave. He needed to fall back. He stumbled backwards, still in his Manakete form, and in the process, he would knock back the Varjan Elite attacking Eclisse. He would then go to a relatively safer place and he transformed back into his human form and then collapsed on the ground, and then letting out a pained grunt. He could still feel the pain of the fiery liquid on his back but it has certainly disappeared when he transformed back. He let out labored breaths. He needed help. However, through the pain, he dug up the spellbook in his cloak and then attempted to summon something to at least fend off anyone who tried to attack him. At least only for a little while. He needed to recover from the attack.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,738	62	43	864	838	Roane "Don't worry," Roane called back, struggling to maintain the quiver in her own voice. "I'll make sure no one gets too close." She glanced back, giving Taka a small nod. She had seen the Outlaw eyeing her ax uneasily moments prior the attack, and she had a growing hunch that just perhaps moving him closer to enemies wasn't exactly the best. A movement caught her eye. A swift figure, her nagitana slicing towards the bolsters with incredible speed. Roane hesitated for a moment, her suspicion fading as she caught the warrior's gaze. This one was unfamiliar, but help was help. With a small nod of gratitude, she switched her gaze elsewhere on the battlefield. There, near their original position, was her regiment. Varjans and dwarves flanked them--a duo that could only yield disastrous results. Biting back a swear as another arrow sank into the Wyvern, the fliers slowly descended down towards the surrounded regiment Lyth hovered a few feet above the ground, his claws barely scraping the dirt. His breathing was labored, stray arrows sticking out of his body like overgrown thorns. There was no way they could fly higher unless they wished to fall a crash. Yet, despite the dragon's grievous wounds, his eyes burned with a ferocity that challenged the foes around him. Roane patted her steed assuringly. A mixture of emotions swirled around her, pushing tight against her chest. Fear. Anger. Anxiety. But one rose above them all, tightening her grip on her axe and steeling her gaze. Cold, burning determination. With a snarl, Lyth lunged at one of the heavily armored warriors closing in on Eclisse. Roane twirled her ax. Years of woodchopping and farm work had shaped her hands into nimble tools of trade, heavy and calloused with work. But here, in the face of an enemy, they had become tools of war. She shouted and sank the blade into the side of the Elite. Lyth reached out to claw him for added injury. Before the Elite could react, she hurriedly moved away, though still within an arrow's reach. "Are you alright?" she called to Eclisse and Myno, her gaze momentarily leaving the foe.	Name: Roane Teresse Class: Wyvern Rider Special Abilities: = Beastbane (Passive) - All weapons are effective against beasts. = Iron Wings (Passive) - Negates the effectiveness of bows against flying units except Manaketes Equipment: • Iron Ax • Vulnerary • Pouch of Gold History: The eldest of seven siblings, Roane was born in a remote farming community on the outskirts of Ereb. Life was hard, her father having passed of illness when she was barely twelve, and poverty and labor forced her to grow up fast. Despite the hardships, Roane's mother would often weave tales of whimsical lands and grand adventures by the smoldering coals of their hearth at night. The stories, though fictional, stilled a sense of idealism in Roane. A small spark of belief that one day, whether by the will of the gods or the mysterious twining of fate, she too would get her adventure. What she didn't expect was for that wish to be granted in the form of a mischievous wyvern hatchling. Roane's meeting with Lyth was one of bizarre circumstance. While hunting in the woods, Roane was surprised by a series of high-pitched squeaks. Following the noise, she found a game trap with a broken-winged wyvern hatchling trapped inside. How he he had gotten there in the first place was a mystery in of itself. Nevertheless, Roane took pity on the creature and rescued it from its bindings. From then on, Roane raised and nurtured the hatchling, whom she dubbed 'Lyth', until his wing was healed. Over time, however, the two grew close and when when it came Lyth's time to leave, he instead stayed behind with his newfound friend. Years passed, Roane's sense of adventure growing with each season. Trips past the woods and around the neighboring mountains became more frequent. On one such occasion, the rider and her steed stumbled across a violent scene. In the middle of a mountain path was a small group of bandits leading away the bound form of a young girl. Without even thinking, Roane charged towards the fiends, managing to snatch the girl from their grasps before flying to safety. Upon their arrival home, the girl revealed herself to be Lady K'shein of the House of Niveana. She told of how she had been stolen away in the night and forced to travel for miles before being rescuers by Roane. In gratitude, K'Shein proposed to Roane a position on her royal guard. Roane accepted in heartbeat, paving the way to a life beyond the fields of her past. Done!
2,739	62	44	2,517	568	Tomoe Tomoe looked around; obviously, charging into a crowd of angry dwarves all armed with crossbows offered a high amount of risk. "I don't suppose politely asking to move aside is an option," she said to herself, before spotting a lone Dwarven infatryman with a large, unwieldy axe heading her way. It would be much easier to stamp out one barracuda than escape a swarm of piranhas. Or some other more situationally-fitting analogy. Dashing back and turning around, Tomoe swung her guard naginata in front of her as the Dwarven infantryman approached. Using her shielded weapon, she parried the blows the infantryman attempted to land on her. The dwarf's broad axe was hefty, and while normally an axe would snap a poled weapon in two, the combination of the awkward weapon and Tomoe's shielding kept the two soldiers head to head. Tomoe did not want to glance backwards, for that would be the end of her. Instead, she shoved the broad side of her naginata into the dwarf with the force of a tipping cart, attempting to knock him down, slash his leg, and pass through to find a clear path to Prince Jarde. With note that the wyvern rider had acknowledged her arrival, Tomoe pushed forth.	Sweet! Tomoe Minamoto Appearance: The chest and torso of her kimono is lavender, and the sleeves are dark orange. Her hair is also lavender, while the sash tied behind her iron armor is purplish-white. Her shoes and leggings are cool dark-grey. Sex: Female Class: Lance Fighter Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Pick Equipment: Guard Naginata, Vulnerary, Steel Naginata History: Tomoe was born the daughter to a locksmith; her mother passed away in childbirth, and upon finding out this fact Tomoe felt a sense of guilt. Not wanting to see his daughter so despondent, Tomoe’s father attempted to set aside Tomoe’s guilt and teach her how to build locks. Young Tomoe grew to love the time she spent with her father, as she would never feel alone while her father was around. She was exceptionally attached to her father and, in her early years, would cry if her father left. Tomoe was inspired to join the military in part due to her feelings of guilt, but largely by the lance fighters of her home country, especially the ones who had the duty of bodyguards. She admired those who had the strength to protect the important. Tomoe wanted to be that kind of person who could serve and protect; she couldn’t keep her mother alive, but she would fight to protect the people of her nation, especially the people who were responsible for representing those folks. As such, she joined the military. This prospect led to a very serious discussion with her father about joining the force. Perhaps her father saw a bit of his own sentiment in his daughter, and understood her motives. He gave her a locket containing a small portrait of her parents for safekeeping, as well as the tiny key to that locket. With a bit of guidance from the blue-haired tailor from across the street who was apparently also a member of the military, Tomoe enlisted and went through rigorous training through particularly the use of the naginata (perhaps in part due to her inspiration from said tailor). Eventually, she was called upon for numerous escort jobs, gaining a reputation as one of the most effective bodyguards in the land. She became known as a bane of assassins, and one of the most trusted guards among the royalty. She frequently wrote home to her father, and tinkered with locks and keys in her spare time. One job led to another, and she eventually found herself on mission to Arcadia, further than she had ever gone before. Of course she was nervous; she would be far away from everyone she knew, but she was determined to do her job and serve as protection. Naginata in hand, Tomoe set off. Tomoe becomes anxious if alone, and she is very protective of anyone she considers a friend. She is genuinely kindhearted, and not vengeful. She likes to spend her free time in her hobby of locksmithing, using whatever materials she can scrounge up to craft tumblers and keys, though she finds this a little hard to do on the road given the paucity of time, wood, or metal. She’s been known to purposely take hits to show off, but other than that, her job doesn’t give her such a big head. Born on Nov. 10th. Has the best sleight of hand in the army. -"HANDS OFF!" -"Click! You're dead." -"DROP. YOUR. WEAPON." -"BARRIER OF JUSTICE!" Personality:
2,740	62	45	565	508	The Varjans had been brought to a slow pace from the damage they had taken, giving Eclisse even more time to dodge their attacks. One of the varjans even started to feel the effects of Blackfangs poison and was finished off by a quick arrow to the neck. "Nice shot... Now to finish off the other... What the..." Eclisse looked up in time to see a dark red fireball flying over, it hit its target too, Myno. "Crap! Myno hang in the... Agh!" Eclisse wasn't watching her flank and paid for it as one of the Varjans tackled her onto the ground and was about to plunge his sword into her. Luckily, Myno, in a blind rampage trying to get to safety after getting hit by that fireball from earlier, knocked the Varjan over onto the ground. Eclisse quickly scrambled to grab her sword and plunge it into the chest of the knocked over Varjan. While she did so, the other Varjan was being kept busy by Roane and her wyvern, the Varjan looked like he was in his last battle. "Are you alright?" Eclisse got up and dusted herself off before answering Roane. "I'm fine now... But you need to get that wyvern of yours some help... Here!" Eclisse had taken the vulnerary from her coat pocket and tossed it to Roane. "Its not much... But we can't have your wyvern kicking the bucket!" Eclisse then took her blade and charged at the remaining Varjan to deal the final blow.	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,741	62	46	1,792	1,093	---Dragonrage Pass--- -- You summon a Mauthe Doog which stood vigilantly to protect you as the battle raged on. Fortunately, the Dwarves and the Varjans have begun to ignore you and your allies and focused their efforts on each other. The Ereb prince Jarde arrived while keeping a fair bit of distance from the wolf monster you summoned. "Myno, was it? Come on, we have to get out of here." He sheathed his sword and picked you up, slinging one of your arms over his shoulders. The pain you have sustained was slipping you almost into unconsciousness and you could only hear Jarde's faint voice giving out orders as you were half-dragged out of the battle. -- With the Dwarf in your way taken care of and likely immobilized thanks to your blow to his leg, you reach Jarde's group as the Dwarves and the thick-armored men began focusing on each other, paying lesser attention to everything else. You spot Jarde carrying someone and he, too, also spotted you. "You!" He called you out. "It doesn't seem like you're part of the fighting, you should get out of here as soon as you can!" He told you. "In fact, you should join us for now. We'll have a higher chance of surviving if we stick together." He suggested. "Come on!" He went towards the wyvern and its riders whom you protected from the Dwarven Bolters earlier. It appeared that they have landed with the winged creature having sustained injuries. -, , , & - Eclisse managed to dispatch the two Varjan Elites and now there were none to threaten the wyvern group for now. However, they were now surrounded by the Dwarves and the Varjans fighting each other but ignoring them. For now at least, who knows when they would get roped into the fighting again? Jarde, with Myno slung upon him, met up with the group and soon, Merilia too. It appeared they were the only ones who were remotely together while the rest were somewhere in the chaotic battle. -Everyone- Jarde took a look at everyone in the group to find out who was present. He found Eclisse, Angelise who has the unconscious Nyx on her horse, Roane on her injured wyvern along with Taka, Myno on Jarde's shoulders and Tomoe the newcomer who Jarde did not know her name yet. Merilia was also present with her sword still unsheathed and watching for any hostiles that would approach them. There was also the Mauthe Doog Myno had summoned. "Tsk!" The prince began thinking how to get his regiment out of the mess when suddenly, a loud thunder cracked and bright lightning fell on a large portion of the fighting Dwarves and Varjans. When the dust cleared, a woman of blue clothes and hair quickly approached the regiment. "Lord Jarde! This way!" The Sage woman yelled. "We must leave!" "What about the others?" Merilia protested. "Keerin, we can't leave them behind! We should look for them!" "We cannot do that amidst all this chaos!" The woman named Keerin retorted. "Surely you all agree?" She questioned the rest of the regiment. "No! We can't abandon them!" Merilia continued to protest before turning to the rest of the regiment. "Come on you guys! I know we haven't known each other for long but it doesn't mean we shouldn't try to look after them!"	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,742	62	47	864	838	Roane Roane nodded in thanks as Eclisse tossed her a vulnerary. Popping the cap off, she poured its contents into Lyth's mouth before tucking away the medicine for future use. The wyvern flapped his wings as the newfound energy coursed through his veins as and the wounds from his pain ceased to bother him. A rose echoed through the battlefield as he flapped his wings, rising a foot off the ground. Roane smiled and patted Lyth, yet there glimmered grimness in her eyes. The vulnerary helped, but it didn't change the fact that the regiment was surrounded by foes. Dwarves, Varjans--soldiers of all walks of life, trust wavering with every side they chose. This was too much. Way too much in too little time. Roane's eyes darted around, strung at the limp Nyx and barely hanging on Myno. They were alive, thank the gods, but for how long? She was no Cleric, but it didn't take much to figure out that another battle would only end up in more needless death. She gripped the reins tight, eyes scanning over the battlefield. But there were more out there. She didn't know how she could sleep knowing she had the choice to save them, but simply left. Roane's gaze darted back and forth between them, hesitance clear in her eyes. Slowly, she closed her eyes. "Forgive me." The murmur was barely audible amongst the clatter of battle. Yet the words carried the weight of her choice. Her eyes snapped open and she flew to the manakete, drawing out and giving him a vulnerary. "He's right." The words were hollow with guilt and defeat. "We can't risk another battle. We're too ill prepared." Her gaze darted to the ground. "I don't want to leave anyone behind. But..." she swallowed hard, "the official meeting tent is aflame, we have several injured on our unit, and we're completely surrounded by foes. Our best chance is to retreat." Lyth growled and headbutted Taka, the closest a wyvern could get to a sign of affection. Roane nodded back to Taka. "I'll try to help if I can. Lyth is fast, and I'all be alright as long as I'm careful." And I'all be able to try to search for my lady. The task remained unspoken, yet the concern screamed in her mind.	Name: Roane Teresse Class: Wyvern Rider Special Abilities: = Beastbane (Passive) - All weapons are effective against beasts. = Iron Wings (Passive) - Negates the effectiveness of bows against flying units except Manaketes Equipment: • Iron Ax • Vulnerary • Pouch of Gold History: The eldest of seven siblings, Roane was born in a remote farming community on the outskirts of Ereb. Life was hard, her father having passed of illness when she was barely twelve, and poverty and labor forced her to grow up fast. Despite the hardships, Roane's mother would often weave tales of whimsical lands and grand adventures by the smoldering coals of their hearth at night. The stories, though fictional, stilled a sense of idealism in Roane. A small spark of belief that one day, whether by the will of the gods or the mysterious twining of fate, she too would get her adventure. What she didn't expect was for that wish to be granted in the form of a mischievous wyvern hatchling. Roane's meeting with Lyth was one of bizarre circumstance. While hunting in the woods, Roane was surprised by a series of high-pitched squeaks. Following the noise, she found a game trap with a broken-winged wyvern hatchling trapped inside. How he he had gotten there in the first place was a mystery in of itself. Nevertheless, Roane took pity on the creature and rescued it from its bindings. From then on, Roane raised and nurtured the hatchling, whom she dubbed 'Lyth', until his wing was healed. Over time, however, the two grew close and when when it came Lyth's time to leave, he instead stayed behind with his newfound friend. Years passed, Roane's sense of adventure growing with each season. Trips past the woods and around the neighboring mountains became more frequent. On one such occasion, the rider and her steed stumbled across a violent scene. In the middle of a mountain path was a small group of bandits leading away the bound form of a young girl. Without even thinking, Roane charged towards the fiends, managing to snatch the girl from their grasps before flying to safety. Upon their arrival home, the girl revealed herself to be Lady K'shein of the House of Niveana. She told of how she had been stolen away in the night and forced to travel for miles before being rescuers by Roane. In gratitude, K'Shein proposed to Roane a position on her royal guard. Roane accepted in heartbeat, paving the way to a life beyond the fields of her past. Done!
2,743	62	48	2,517	568	Tomoe Tomoe nodded back to Taka. "If there's a possibility of finding the others without risking more casualties, I am bound by duty to go after them. Now that being said, that all depends on the possibility, but we should decide quickly..." Tomoe gripped her weapon. "That being said I have been sent here to perform the duty of protection first and foremost. And I don't know how much say I've got given how I've just merely appeared in the heat of battle. I assure you, I'm an ally." She thought back to the feelings of loneliness she suffered in her childhood, how that anxiety persisted through her life; she did not want anyone to be stranded amongst a sea of enemies. Her weapon was an asset, but it was just one, two, three people within a tidal wave. One does not stop a tsunami by throwing a stone at it. "I do not wish to be a hindrance to the group, so if we want to save the others, we're gonna have to work quickly and carefully. Is that plausible?"	Sweet! Tomoe Minamoto Appearance: The chest and torso of her kimono is lavender, and the sleeves are dark orange. Her hair is also lavender, while the sash tied behind her iron armor is purplish-white. Her shoes and leggings are cool dark-grey. Sex: Female Class: Lance Fighter Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Pick Equipment: Guard Naginata, Vulnerary, Steel Naginata History: Tomoe was born the daughter to a locksmith; her mother passed away in childbirth, and upon finding out this fact Tomoe felt a sense of guilt. Not wanting to see his daughter so despondent, Tomoe’s father attempted to set aside Tomoe’s guilt and teach her how to build locks. Young Tomoe grew to love the time she spent with her father, as she would never feel alone while her father was around. She was exceptionally attached to her father and, in her early years, would cry if her father left. Tomoe was inspired to join the military in part due to her feelings of guilt, but largely by the lance fighters of her home country, especially the ones who had the duty of bodyguards. She admired those who had the strength to protect the important. Tomoe wanted to be that kind of person who could serve and protect; she couldn’t keep her mother alive, but she would fight to protect the people of her nation, especially the people who were responsible for representing those folks. As such, she joined the military. This prospect led to a very serious discussion with her father about joining the force. Perhaps her father saw a bit of his own sentiment in his daughter, and understood her motives. He gave her a locket containing a small portrait of her parents for safekeeping, as well as the tiny key to that locket. With a bit of guidance from the blue-haired tailor from across the street who was apparently also a member of the military, Tomoe enlisted and went through rigorous training through particularly the use of the naginata (perhaps in part due to her inspiration from said tailor). Eventually, she was called upon for numerous escort jobs, gaining a reputation as one of the most effective bodyguards in the land. She became known as a bane of assassins, and one of the most trusted guards among the royalty. She frequently wrote home to her father, and tinkered with locks and keys in her spare time. One job led to another, and she eventually found herself on mission to Arcadia, further than she had ever gone before. Of course she was nervous; she would be far away from everyone she knew, but she was determined to do her job and serve as protection. Naginata in hand, Tomoe set off. Tomoe becomes anxious if alone, and she is very protective of anyone she considers a friend. She is genuinely kindhearted, and not vengeful. She likes to spend her free time in her hobby of locksmithing, using whatever materials she can scrounge up to craft tumblers and keys, though she finds this a little hard to do on the road given the paucity of time, wood, or metal. She’s been known to purposely take hits to show off, but other than that, her job doesn’t give her such a big head. Born on Nov. 10th. Has the best sleight of hand in the army. -"HANDS OFF!" -"Click! You're dead." -"DROP. YOUR. WEAPON." -"BARRIER OF JUSTICE!" Personality:
2,744	62	49	470	1,609	Taka "I know I know, I'm just staying behind to get you guys a better chance to escape. I'll definitely follow behind quickly, I can move fast...just whoever stays behind with me, he or she better be able to catch up...otherwise I won't be able to help as much if I end up dying too hehe." Taka notions to others to follow him for those who were staying behind for a moment as he readies his bow once more. He was still waiting for the order from the prince to head out. His own instincts were telling him to run but he wanted to at least guarantee the others a good escape route in case it would lead to faults. That and who knows would join them if he held off the wave for a moment? The bandit was very confident that he could get out of this quickly...as long as no one slowed him down nor he got caught in a close ranged fight. Can never know on the battlefield after all... "Only one of you is fine, but be quick though. This brief moment of piece isn't going to last long!"	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,745	62	50	1,310	1,136	Nyx Nyx lied on the horses back. Her pendant was noticeably glowing brightly. She was also starting to radiate a slightly green glow herself. Her body was also extremely hot, Angelise would definitely be feeling the heat and so would the horse. She was groaning as if things were getting worse. Nyx stood before the podium within her head and the green orb sitting upon it. Upon closer inspection the podium seemed to be more of an alter for this orb. The green orb was glowing brightly and it had the kind of aura of wanting to be touched. She reaches towards the orb and touches it. The orb felt as if it had a heartbeat...	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,746	62	51	565	508	Taka "I know I know, I'm just staying behind to get you guys a better chance to escape. I'll definitely follow behind quickly, I can move fast...just whoever stays behind with me, he or she better be able to catch up...otherwise I won't be able to help as much if I end up dying too hehe." Taka notions to others to follow him for those who were staying behind for a moment as he readies his bow once more. He was still waiting for the order from the prince to head out. His own instincts were telling him to run but he wanted to at least guarantee the others a good escape route in case it would lead to faults. That and who knows would join them if he held off the wave for a moment? The bandit was very confident that he could get out of this quickly...as long as no one slowed him down nor he got caught in a close ranged fight. Can never know on the battlefield after all... "Only one of you is fine, but be quick though. This brief moment of piece isn't going to last long!" "I stay and help Taka... We'll have a better chance at surviving with speed on our side... Besides Roane, this isn't exactly the best battle for your wyvern... We don't need any stray arrows or fireballs knocking you out of the sky..." Eclisse wasn't looking for approval, she didn't want to see any fellow comrades fall in this battle. "What are you waiting for!? Go, me and Taka have this!	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,747	62	52	1,792	1,093	---Dragonrage Pass--- -, - Jarde nodded at the two of you. "All right. As your commander, I order you to come back unscathed okay?" And so the two of you were off, back to your camp that was now overrun by chaos and fighting. Fortunately, no one seemed to impede your little trek to the camp but the both of you still had to skillfully avoid and evade dueling soldiers, nasty brawls, injured people begging for help and dead people simply laying on the ground. The two of you reach the camp without a fight but the same could not be said about the camp itself. Several of the tents were already burning. Some of the pots and utensils were strewn about. There was no sign of your allies however and you would need to scour more of the battlefield to find them. Probably not a wise decision though. Suddenly, someone came crashing down in front of you. Both of you recognized him as your ally Cylus, albeit covered in blood and wounds. He did not notice you and seemed to be more focused on his current opponent. Cylus' opponent was taller than both of you and wielded two thorny swords but he was focused in Cylus too. -, , and - After Taka and Eclisse had left, Jarde turned to the remaining. "All right, let's move out!" "Follow me, everyone!" Keerin lead the group through the area she called down a powerful, magical thunder into which was now mostly devoid of soldiers and fighting. However, Nyx suddenly heated up which forced Angelise's horse to buck her off. Keerin was immediately onto her and examined the unconscious Manakete. "She is radiating a tremendous amount of heat. How do we move her?" The Sage asked Jarde but the question was directed to everyone. A decision needed to be made soon as the gap made by Keerin was slowly being filled by the fighting again.	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,748	62	53	1,836	2,626	Myno Myno had been slowly recovering from his half-unconscious state. His will allowed him to think rather coherently and to move without Jarde's help, but he was still being supported. Fine by him, but at least he knows he can do something without the prince. The group has decided that Taka and Eclisse would go around and try to find the others. It was foolish to split up, but they looked confident and capable so Myno did not voice any of his concerns. However, he could easily say that they would be fools to expect that they were still alive. In the previous war, he always heard that. Sending out a scouting team to look for their missing soldiers only to find them dead on the ground and they would come back disheartened. The Manakete has seen too much of those to expect the best; in war, one always has to expect the worst to happen. You can never be too careful after all. His attention snapped towards the horse that buckles to remove Nyx from it. Myno wriggled himself off of Jarde's hold and then half-walked, half-stumbled towards Nyx. He knelt down beside Keerin and examined his fellow Manakete. "Dragonstone." He pointed out, gesturing towards the glowing pendant. "Maybe... first time turning into a dragon." He continued before placing a hand on her skin and retracting it almost immediately. "I can touch her for some time. Heat's the same as when I turn." He then frowned. "But I'm too injured to carry her."	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,749	62	54	565	508	Eclisse gave a nod towards Taka, she would've prefer to be called by her name but her name can wait till later. Right now she needed to do some covering, she brandished Blackfang and proceeded to attack any who would try to interfere with Taka's plan.	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,750	62	55	1,310	1,136	Nyx Transformation Nyx's mind Nyx was sent flying backwards as the green orb on the alter burst into a large green flame that started to resemble a dragon of some kind within her head. She watched as it lunged towards her with great speed. Instincts taking hold of her causes her to try and escape the flames grasps. Rather unsuccessfully though. She lied on the ground absorbing the flame. Battlefield The other manakete was very close to what was actually happening. But it was not Nyx's first time she has changed rather this was her second. She had transformed one other time, a time similar to this but this time was different. She wasnt alone... Nyx and the dragonstone in her pendant now both glowing. The girl cries out in pain still seeming very unaware of her surroundings. She squirms like crazy as she seemed to be trying to resist the change. She stops suddenly and begins to cool down... When her eyes fling open, her eyes seemed to be draining of the sky blue and leaving a rather crimson red. She sprouts a pair of wings and a tail. She begins to move towards the fighting as her transformation continued. She jumps off the ground towards the sky. Her body completely covered with scales and her body being much larger and less human looking. Her face pushed out into a dragon muzzle and her teeth became sharper and more fang like. Her hands and legs resembling that of a dragon. She launches a Medium-large ball of green flames towards the fighting with no regard for sides. , , , &	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,751	62	56	1,836	2,626	Myno Myno stumbled back when she began transforming into a dragon. He had to honestly give that transformation a ten over ten. But her attack did not help their eventual tactical retreat. The men of Concilium began to advance towards her and began using their polearms to pierce her scales. And what's sad about that? It was working. She was being wounded. He drew in a breath and then curled his fists. There was no choice, he had to transform again. However, before he could do that, Jarde ordered this Keerin to heal him. He let out a grunt as a reply as he stood still, looking at the field. As soon as she was done healing him, he was ready to go. Minimal casualties, Jarde said. Of course, they were still Concilium after all. However, it was hard to not get angry at the ones who were actively trying to kill one of your teammates. Didn't they know that she was Concilium as well? Gods above. "It is much appreciated, Sage." He said. Like what Keerin said, it did only take a while. He felt his back feel a lot less painful and his energy came flowing back to him. He then nodded at Keerin and then stood back, the dragonstone in his bracer began glowing. Much unlike what Nyx went through, he didn't seem to be resisting or was in pain during the transformation. The pale yellow dragon roared, as if to get the attention of the other footmen before barreling (quite quickly may I add) towards the archers with every plan to just knock them out.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,752	62	57	470	1,609	Taka Taka was not one to grieve too long on a companion's death. The death of his grandfather during their travels already strengthened his resolve so he quickly put the body to the ground and grabs Eclisses's hand. He shakes his head and sticks his tongue out at the barbarians...as he runs away quickly and leading Eclisse right behind him. There was no time to waste in escaping from the area and the fact that their goal was no longer able to be accomplished...they had to escape. Hoping that the escape route he planned to be still open, he hurries off with Eclisse in hand. "Follow me and don't look back! I'll make sure those muscle-heads are off our tail when we run but don't stop running. If you block something, do it on the fly and keep on moving. And above all else, don't lose sight of me." This route was meant to regroup with the others...hopefully.	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,753	62	58	2,517	568	Tomoe Annnnd civil discussion didn't work. What did she expect? Tomoe was on a battlefield trying (and undoubtedly failing) to calm down a bunch of angry soldiers stabbing an out-of-control manakete. But when the bloodied Hero approached, eyeing her like a hunter would a deer, she knew she was quite in trouble. She had the weapon length to keep her distance from this warrior, and she was quite well-versed in defense techniques, but men with swords placed a lot of offensive pressure. That being said, she did not want to harm this man over something as misfortunate as a misunderstanding. She would have to drive this powerful warrior away from Nyx. Tomoe assumed a long-distance defensive stance, maximizing the amount of naginata she had before her while still maintaining control over her weapon. She did not intend to give the Hero she was dueling the luxury of having her distracted by making futile attempts at reason. Instead, she prepared to fend off the swordsman, twisting her weapon and attempting to force him into an awkward position that would buy the others time to help Nyx without having to deal with Tomoe's opponent.	Sweet! Tomoe Minamoto Appearance: The chest and torso of her kimono is lavender, and the sleeves are dark orange. Her hair is also lavender, while the sash tied behind her iron armor is purplish-white. Her shoes and leggings are cool dark-grey. Sex: Female Class: Lance Fighter Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Pick Equipment: Guard Naginata, Vulnerary, Steel Naginata History: Tomoe was born the daughter to a locksmith; her mother passed away in childbirth, and upon finding out this fact Tomoe felt a sense of guilt. Not wanting to see his daughter so despondent, Tomoe’s father attempted to set aside Tomoe’s guilt and teach her how to build locks. Young Tomoe grew to love the time she spent with her father, as she would never feel alone while her father was around. She was exceptionally attached to her father and, in her early years, would cry if her father left. Tomoe was inspired to join the military in part due to her feelings of guilt, but largely by the lance fighters of her home country, especially the ones who had the duty of bodyguards. She admired those who had the strength to protect the important. Tomoe wanted to be that kind of person who could serve and protect; she couldn’t keep her mother alive, but she would fight to protect the people of her nation, especially the people who were responsible for representing those folks. As such, she joined the military. This prospect led to a very serious discussion with her father about joining the force. Perhaps her father saw a bit of his own sentiment in his daughter, and understood her motives. He gave her a locket containing a small portrait of her parents for safekeeping, as well as the tiny key to that locket. With a bit of guidance from the blue-haired tailor from across the street who was apparently also a member of the military, Tomoe enlisted and went through rigorous training through particularly the use of the naginata (perhaps in part due to her inspiration from said tailor). Eventually, she was called upon for numerous escort jobs, gaining a reputation as one of the most effective bodyguards in the land. She became known as a bane of assassins, and one of the most trusted guards among the royalty. She frequently wrote home to her father, and tinkered with locks and keys in her spare time. One job led to another, and she eventually found herself on mission to Arcadia, further than she had ever gone before. Of course she was nervous; she would be far away from everyone she knew, but she was determined to do her job and serve as protection. Naginata in hand, Tomoe set off. Tomoe becomes anxious if alone, and she is very protective of anyone she considers a friend. She is genuinely kindhearted, and not vengeful. She likes to spend her free time in her hobby of locksmithing, using whatever materials she can scrounge up to craft tumblers and keys, though she finds this a little hard to do on the road given the paucity of time, wood, or metal. She’s been known to purposely take hits to show off, but other than that, her job doesn’t give her such a big head. Born on Nov. 10th. Has the best sleight of hand in the army. -"HANDS OFF!" -"Click! You're dead." -"DROP. YOUR. WEAPON." -"BARRIER OF JUSTICE!" Personality:
2,754	62	59	470	1,609	Taka "Told you to have some faith in m~...oh wow hehe...out of the flames and into a blizzard, aren't we? Well archers against our main company and a hero against our new spear gal. You want to go for one group and I get the other? To be honest, I'd rather focus on the hero to be honest...one target for me would be nice. I could provide you some covering fire for a moment if you want to charge into either or of the group. Hehe...one person providing covering fire. Your choice, just tell me the orders and I'll follow." Taka was carefully studying the situation and planning out a major escape route for all of them to follow. After all, their forces were way too spread out and separated...that and not in the best situation for another flat out battle. That's why he wanted to get them all out into a safe space...hopefully. He was still chuckling this entire time, surprised that he was still alright...despite having much better/impressive allies earlier. Reminder to self, make a gravestone for that mercenary man.	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,755	62	60	1,836	2,626	Myno Myno knew that the ones he was up against weren't too hard to route. They were footmen after all. In his time at Archanea, he learned the difference between your run-of-the-mill soldiers and your more notable soldiers. However, they were great in number. Just when Jarde thought that it was over, another squad had reached them. Boy, they were persistent. He spun around, using his tail to fend off the soldiers and make them retreat. Jarde and Merilia seemed to have more problems. Jarde told him to go after Nyx, but Merilia's scream made him turn his head ever so slightly to her. He saw the spear that had pierced through her flesh. He sent out a fireball towards their direction, meticulously aimed so that it would hit the Concillium soldiers but won't damage them too much, and it would only do little to no damage to Merilia and Jarde. With that, he took off into the air and headed for Nyx. She was still thrashing around. It would have been effective should it have stayed as the run of the mill soldiers, but now she was up against Hellriders. "Nyx, fall back!" He growled, his distorted voice loud and hoping to reach the green rampaging dragon. He then turned his attention to the Hellriders and then flew down at them, attempting to scatter them by a bluff. He would attempt to take on of the soldiers and drop them at a height where they would be sure to break something.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,756	62	61	1,310	1,136	Nyx Who is in control? Battlefield The green dragon thrashing around in the air known as Nyx, continued to thrash around while firing large green balls of flame towards these hellriders. The cried of the other manakete reached her, although rather than her stopping she turns and lashes out towards the other manakete. She seemed to not care who anyone was. They are all her enemies. This was not the same innocent person who fainted before, rather this was a creature which wanted nothing but death. Nyx's mind Nyx lied on the ground groaning in pain as she tried to fight the creature that lived within her... She was determined to not let loose, but she could feel her grip on reality breaking. She begins to tear at her own face in agony. , , , &	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,757	62	62	565	508	Miraculous, the thief managed to pull himself and Eclisse out of the conflict back to their group, but things were going bad for their allies as well. "Told you to have some faith in m~...oh wow hehe...out of the flames and into a blizzard, aren't we? Well archers against our main company and a hero against our new spear gal. You want to go for one group and I get the other? To be honest, I'd rather focus on the hero to be honest...one target for me would be nice. I could provide you some covering fire for a moment if you want to charge into either or of the group. Hehe...one person providing covering fire. Your choice, just tell me the orders and I'll follow." Eclisse nodded at Taka's suggestions. "I'll see what I can do about those archers. Let's hope we make it through this." Eclisse ready her blade and rushed at the archers bringing her blade down on the closest one. "Hey you arrow shooting pansies! Try focusing on someone your level!" She shouted to the group of enemies.	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,758	62	63	1,792	1,093	---Dragonrage Pass--- - & - The Concilium Hero took the initiative to attack Tomoe but she was prepared, blocking and evading the Hero's swings and thrusts. "You b****! Stand still!" The Hero yelled in frustration. But he halted when an arrow struck him in the shoulder, the projectile piercing through his armor and lodging itself firmly in his flesh. "Ah, dammit!" He yelled as he dropped his sword to clutch his wound. A few more arrows hit him in his side and he fell to the ground on his back, his remaining hand laying upon the arrows sticking out from him. He bled profusely but was not dead. "Finish... me. You... you damn Iapanese..." Blood dripped from his mouth. You could give him what he wanted but that could convey that you are indeed an enemy of the Concilium and by extension, the League of Arcadia. Then again, you are in the middle of a battle so it was probable that no one would see, let alone notice. -- You charge into the aid of Prince Jarde and Merilia. However, you were mistaken that they were archers. They were actually Soldiers, spear-wielding infantry of the Concilium. Still, you manage to slash one of them which took him down and distracted the other Soldiers for Jarde and Merilia to get a surprise attack on them and that along with the fireball from Myno earlier, managed to rout them from the battle. The Prince immediately slung one of Merilia's arms over him and walked over to you. "Eclisse, take Merilia and go find Keerin and the others. Then get yourselves away from the battle as far as you can. I need to help Myno and the others still here." He ordered you. "My lord! I cannot leave you behind!" Merilia protested, her face in disbelief. "No Merilia, you're wounded and I need you out of here as soon as possible." Jarde shot her down. "Besides, I'll be fi-- GAH!" An arrow from a Concilium Sniper hit Jarde right in his rib, dropping Merilia and falling to his knees. "JARDE!" The red-armored Hero yelled as she forced herself up with her injured leg to take a look at her Prince. "Get Jarde out of here, Eclisse! Please!" She practically begged you. "N-No Eclisse! Get... Merilia... out of here!" Jarde reiterated his orders. Since they were both armor-wearing warriors, you could only carry one of them. - & - Nyx's wild but mighty attacks manage to take down Myno and send the latter to the ground. One would be forgiven if one thought a violent and destructive duel between two powerful beings was about to erupt. Meanwhile, the Hellriders have rode off, not wanting to get in the middle of two Manaketes fighting each other in their huge, draconic forms. Inside Nyx's mind however, someone embraced the pained girl from behind. The entity's touch was soothing and relaxing, bringing peace where there is chaos and bringing joy where there is pain. Nyx could not turn around since she was being embraced after all. However, she could note that the arms around her were feminine and motherly.	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,759	62	64	1,792	1,093	---Dragonrage Pass--- , , , & Myno had successfully subdued Nyx but that may be because she suddenly collapsed into unconsciousness for reasons only Nyx probably knows. A sudden magical strike of lightning routed any remaining hostiles around Jarde's regiment. Its caster, Keerin, ran up to the group who had rendezvoused. "Come everyone! We have no time to waste!" Jarde, however, noticed the absence of two members who were with the Sage. "Keerin, where are the others?" "We... lost each other when we tried to make it to you." Keerin answered. "Now we must go! Before we are swept again in the fighting again and possibly lose more people!" "...Very well." Jarde turned to what remained of his regiment. "Myno, carry Nyx. Let me know if something happens to her again. Eclisse, carry Merilia. Taka, give me hand." He issued his orders before spotting a good route to leave the battle for good. "Everyone! Follow me and Taka!" And with that, Jarde's regiment made their exit from the Battle of Dragonrage Pass, an event that will likely be remembered infamously in history. ---A Remote Forest--- Jarde's regiment reached a forest somewhere in the border of the Concilium and the Moon Kingdom. The dark of the night had gone and gave way to the light of morning. However, a fog had fallen on the forest so despite the presence of the sun, visibility was quite limited. Once the Ereb Prince was sure there was no danger nearby, he gave the order. "Everyone, let's rest up here." It was the chance for the group to catch their breath and maybe try to comprehend what exactly happened in Dragonrage Pass. "That was quite the ordeal, wasn't it?" Jarde began. "...I just wish all of us made it out..." Keerin, meanwhile, approached Tomoe. "Madam, may I ask you to assist Prince Jarde in removing the arrow on his rib? I will be with you shortly after I heal Merilia." She requested.	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,760	62	65	470	1,609	Taka After they finally escaped from the battle, Taka looks around for his Wyvern pals from earlier...but unfortunately doesn't find them. He sighs and heads over to the corner of the camp to make a tiny etching in a tree, and adds a few flowers if he can find any. On the makeshift grave for the others it states: "For the Brave Companions of Jarde's Company." Heading back to sit on the stone in camp, he takes out his Iron Bow to start checking if he has enough arrows for the day to come. He does wave at the others as they pass and go on their activities, not wanting to be a bother. After all, he was a thief and people tend to look down upon him just because of his job. "...too bad not everyone made it. Guess we got to pick up the work from here."	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,761	62	66	2,517	568	Tomoe Tomoe was distressed about the lives lost and the way that the battle ended... at the very least, though, she did not fail her primary objective. She might, if Jarde did not get the arrow wound that Keerin pointed out treated as quickly as possible. Tomoe hustled over to Jarde's side. "Milord, it would be best not to pull the arrow from the wound; it could damage your vitals. Please keep still." She pulled off one of the sashes on her kimono and washed it best she could in a running stream. She then cleaned the area around the arrow (careful not to touch the sharp edges). Then, she stabilized the arrow so that it would not move. Protecting these officials meant addressing dangerous injuries as well. "It'd probably be best not to move until we can get you to a proper healer," Tomoe stated.	Sweet! Tomoe Minamoto Appearance: The chest and torso of her kimono is lavender, and the sleeves are dark orange. Her hair is also lavender, while the sash tied behind her iron armor is purplish-white. Her shoes and leggings are cool dark-grey. Sex: Female Class: Lance Fighter Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Pick Equipment: Guard Naginata, Vulnerary, Steel Naginata History: Tomoe was born the daughter to a locksmith; her mother passed away in childbirth, and upon finding out this fact Tomoe felt a sense of guilt. Not wanting to see his daughter so despondent, Tomoe’s father attempted to set aside Tomoe’s guilt and teach her how to build locks. Young Tomoe grew to love the time she spent with her father, as she would never feel alone while her father was around. She was exceptionally attached to her father and, in her early years, would cry if her father left. Tomoe was inspired to join the military in part due to her feelings of guilt, but largely by the lance fighters of her home country, especially the ones who had the duty of bodyguards. She admired those who had the strength to protect the important. Tomoe wanted to be that kind of person who could serve and protect; she couldn’t keep her mother alive, but she would fight to protect the people of her nation, especially the people who were responsible for representing those folks. As such, she joined the military. This prospect led to a very serious discussion with her father about joining the force. Perhaps her father saw a bit of his own sentiment in his daughter, and understood her motives. He gave her a locket containing a small portrait of her parents for safekeeping, as well as the tiny key to that locket. With a bit of guidance from the blue-haired tailor from across the street who was apparently also a member of the military, Tomoe enlisted and went through rigorous training through particularly the use of the naginata (perhaps in part due to her inspiration from said tailor). Eventually, she was called upon for numerous escort jobs, gaining a reputation as one of the most effective bodyguards in the land. She became known as a bane of assassins, and one of the most trusted guards among the royalty. She frequently wrote home to her father, and tinkered with locks and keys in her spare time. One job led to another, and she eventually found herself on mission to Arcadia, further than she had ever gone before. Of course she was nervous; she would be far away from everyone she knew, but she was determined to do her job and serve as protection. Naginata in hand, Tomoe set off. Tomoe becomes anxious if alone, and she is very protective of anyone she considers a friend. She is genuinely kindhearted, and not vengeful. She likes to spend her free time in her hobby of locksmithing, using whatever materials she can scrounge up to craft tumblers and keys, though she finds this a little hard to do on the road given the paucity of time, wood, or metal. She’s been known to purposely take hits to show off, but other than that, her job doesn’t give her such a big head. Born on Nov. 10th. Has the best sleight of hand in the army. -"HANDS OFF!" -"Click! You're dead." -"DROP. YOUR. WEAPON." -"BARRIER OF JUSTICE!" Personality:
2,762	62	67	1,836	2,626	Myno For reasons unknown to him, Nyx had been easy to subdue and she soon turned back into a human making life way more easier. He transformed back and then slung her over his shoulder as he looked at Jarde as he yelled out his commands. Myno gave the boy prince a small nod as acknowledgement before adjusting his grip on Nyx so that he was comfortable with her position and would be able to run fast while making sure that she was comfortable as well. The Manakete was unsure just how long or how far they had been running, but they entered a forest and a fog blanketed them - both ensuring that they would be well-hidden but also hiding the enemy should they come after them. But it was good of a place to rest as any. He put Nyx down on a soft patch of ground so she could sleep more comfortably there and then looked around. Taka had made a grave for all their fallen comrade, bless their souls, Tomoe was wrapping Jarde's wound with some cloth and Keerin was healing Merilia. Myno let out a sigh as he sat down and then leaned onto one of the trees that surrounded all of them. He would have asked what they should do. But rest first, that is their first priority. From what had transpired, it's well-earned.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,763	62	68	565	508	Eclisse was glad that she didn't have to make such a tough choice of either saving Jarde or Merilia, she didn't want to leave anybody else behind in this raging conflict. As the remainder of the group fled from the battle they came upon a foggy forest, a nice place to hide out and rest at. Once they had managed to find a spot to rest, Eclisse leaned Merilia against a rock. "We can rest easy now... Ugh... Some meeting that turned out to be..." She said wiping the sweat off her forehead, never in her life did she expect to be in a large scale battle like that. She stood up after assuring that Merilia would be fine and looked upon the rest of the survivors, they were a sorry lot right now. She walked on over to Myno before noticing the sort of grave that Taka had made, she took a pendent from her pocket and placed it on the makeshift grave, she had to pay her respects. After doing so she turned her attention back to Myno, Nyx was resting right beside him after her... Little rampage. "That was... Rough, wasn't it? You two going to be ok?" she asked him.	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,764	62	69	470	1,609	Taka Seeing that the swordswoman from earlier has decided to hang with Myno and the unconscious Nyx, he decides to keep Tomoe company whenever she's done with attending to Jarde's wound. He stays behind her and pokes her side a few times grinning as he tries to get a better understanding/vision of her. After all, it was kinda climatic/key timing that she came in to save them...especially after the deaths of many of their comrades. He eventually does stop poking her once he gets her attention to ask a few things. "So...spear lady, what's your name and such? Sorry to be a hindrance and I know a bandit is the last person you want to see right now, but I am curious about newcomers. Especially since after that recent annoyance...best we all start learning about each other a bit to approve teamwork I guess. That and I got no one else to bug...the few people who were actually friends of mine...I can't find them. Oh well, if you don't mind me pestering you though, I'll be right here at your side for now until Captain Jarde calls on us."	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,765	62	70	1,310	1,136	Nyx Who is in control? Battlefield Nyx is struck by Myno and immediately reverts back. She falls towards the ground. At some point during the falling she is caught and brought along with the rest of the group. She would lie within the barracks seemingly sleeping peacefully... Nyx's mind Nyx was frozen in place for a moment as she was embraced by a motherly feminine figure from behind... Something felt unusual about these arms... The next thing Nyx knew she felt all the energy stored within her body drain away. She slowly gets to her feet to face the motherly feminine figure. "D-do I know you perchance, ma'am?"	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,766	62	71	1,836	2,626	Myno Myno looked up at the swordsman from earlier. Eclisse, he remembered her name was. He let out a small one syllable chuckle, Rought, is an understatement." He replied before straightening up his body but only continued to look up at her, not really intending to stand up to talk. It's either she sit down or they just talk like this. He didn't mind talking like this. He then nodded. "I will be fine though I'd ask Keerin to look at my wounds later on. The healing earlier was rushed after all." He'd rather not go into battle again not knowing that he had an injury that would hinder his fighting. Myno looked at the slumbering Manakete beside him. "I am not too sure about her though. Manaketes are tough so she shouldn't be hurt physically. But it worries me that she went on a rampage like that." He continued. He wasn't sure what happened to her. The only thing he knows about Manaketes rampaging is something called degeneration but he's sure that it didn't happen to her. She reverted back after all and wasn't exactly all that strong.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,767	62	72	2,517	568	Tomoe Tomoe turned to Taka, who had asked her for introductions. "Where I'm from, I'm taught not to make too many judgments while still being wary," Tomoe pointed out. "That being said, we are on the same side after all, and therefore I will put my trust in my allies." She put a hand on her chest. "I'm Tomoe; I've been sent here on a bodyguarding mission, which, of course, brings me to the questions asked by our prince." She turned to Jarde. "My home's gone by many names, Iapena included. Judging from the state of things in this country I can confirm those differences. It's a very peace-seeking nation, and I suppose I should be grateful I come from such a place." Tomoe paused. "As for why I was there, I was actually sent to offer my services as a bodyguard; however, it appears that I had arrived at an incredibly inconvenient time." She chuckled grimly. "...To say the least, haha. As such I never got any comrades' names, backgrounds... There'll be time for that, I suppose."	Sweet! Tomoe Minamoto Appearance: The chest and torso of her kimono is lavender, and the sleeves are dark orange. Her hair is also lavender, while the sash tied behind her iron armor is purplish-white. Her shoes and leggings are cool dark-grey. Sex: Female Class: Lance Fighter Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Pick Equipment: Guard Naginata, Vulnerary, Steel Naginata History: Tomoe was born the daughter to a locksmith; her mother passed away in childbirth, and upon finding out this fact Tomoe felt a sense of guilt. Not wanting to see his daughter so despondent, Tomoe’s father attempted to set aside Tomoe’s guilt and teach her how to build locks. Young Tomoe grew to love the time she spent with her father, as she would never feel alone while her father was around. She was exceptionally attached to her father and, in her early years, would cry if her father left. Tomoe was inspired to join the military in part due to her feelings of guilt, but largely by the lance fighters of her home country, especially the ones who had the duty of bodyguards. She admired those who had the strength to protect the important. Tomoe wanted to be that kind of person who could serve and protect; she couldn’t keep her mother alive, but she would fight to protect the people of her nation, especially the people who were responsible for representing those folks. As such, she joined the military. This prospect led to a very serious discussion with her father about joining the force. Perhaps her father saw a bit of his own sentiment in his daughter, and understood her motives. He gave her a locket containing a small portrait of her parents for safekeeping, as well as the tiny key to that locket. With a bit of guidance from the blue-haired tailor from across the street who was apparently also a member of the military, Tomoe enlisted and went through rigorous training through particularly the use of the naginata (perhaps in part due to her inspiration from said tailor). Eventually, she was called upon for numerous escort jobs, gaining a reputation as one of the most effective bodyguards in the land. She became known as a bane of assassins, and one of the most trusted guards among the royalty. She frequently wrote home to her father, and tinkered with locks and keys in her spare time. One job led to another, and she eventually found herself on mission to Arcadia, further than she had ever gone before. Of course she was nervous; she would be far away from everyone she knew, but she was determined to do her job and serve as protection. Naginata in hand, Tomoe set off. Tomoe becomes anxious if alone, and she is very protective of anyone she considers a friend. She is genuinely kindhearted, and not vengeful. She likes to spend her free time in her hobby of locksmithing, using whatever materials she can scrounge up to craft tumblers and keys, though she finds this a little hard to do on the road given the paucity of time, wood, or metal. She’s been known to purposely take hits to show off, but other than that, her job doesn’t give her such a big head. Born on Nov. 10th. Has the best sleight of hand in the army. -"HANDS OFF!" -"Click! You're dead." -"DROP. YOUR. WEAPON." -"BARRIER OF JUSTICE!" Personality:
2,768	62	73	470	1,609	Taka "If you aren't needed here, I can bring you to where the others are. And don't worry about backgrounds, well...the only one's you should probably care for is Prince Jarde over here. He's the leader of our band after all, and I guess we need to go find something to do about this bad situation we're in. Who knows how long this camp will last until stragglers of the battle come over here to investigate...anyway, the name's Taka and I'm just a Bandit. Though I'm not so good at locks...I can hit practically anything with my bow as you can tell in the fight." Taka chuckles a bit when he mentions he can't do well with locks, and gives her a grin of sorts as she mentions the peaceful country she hails from. That's nice...a place where one can live in peace for once...not having to be forced into anything. If only his old home was like that...but back to the current matters. He shows his Iron Bow to her and does another count of his arrows as he starts to look around a bit for any significantly useful pieces of wood to use for ammunition. "You did come at a key moment in the fighting so I do have to thank you big time...saved me and a pal of mine from being hit by arrows though I don't see her anywhere...oh well. Guess I got to make new ones and hopefully we don't disappear too."	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,769	62	74	1,310	1,136	Nyx Who was that?! Nyx's mind Nyx was so confused "Friends?...." Battlefield Nyx gasps for air as she awakens from her unconscious state. She looks around in a panic before noticing that she was in a foggy forest and that her "Allies" were lowered significantly. She groans as she gets to her feet slowly and makes her way towards the rest of the group. She would sit down on her own and listens to the female hero speak to the three people across from her. "I-i-it was started... I-it's an old evil returning isnt it? Gaia possibly?" She still had the thought of the lady who spoke to her. "A-also while I can speak.... What happened?! Why is so few people left?! And WHO SPOKE TO ME TELEPATHICALLY?!" Nyx seemed to be panicing quite a bit	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,770	62	75	1,836	2,626	Myno As Myno waited for Eclisse to reply to him, the Hero, Merilia, approached them. She held an apologetic look as she did so. He could see where this was going. She apologized to them for suggesting to come back for the others but just ended up losing more. Ah, right. She was the one who suggested it while the Sage, Keerin, suggested that they leave immediately. "It was a choice majority decided on. You are not in fault." He pointed out. He was the only one who straight up said 'no' to her, knowing the consequences they might face if they go back. So, anyway, the rest decided that someone should go after them. Tch, saw how that turned out. But he bore no ill will to these people. Their wants to save their new allies is understandable. Perhaps if Myno was in good condition, he might have even thought of going back for them. She then steered the conversation to what had happened. Indeed, what had caused that? "As the battle started - I heard a soldier of the Concilium shouting that the Dwarves started it. However, I also heard that a Dwarf yell that our forces started it." Myno replied. "I'd think it was a third party." He then heaved a sigh as Merilia said that the two were at war. "That would likely be what is happening right now." Another war was on his hands. Here he thought he was signed up to something like the Shepherds from the fabled legends - a mere protector of the lands. He head snapped to Nyx as she began to speak. "Glad to see you're not too harmed." He first said before she said that it might be Gaia. His face steeled at that comment. Gaia again? A war with the goddess was something he'd like to do only once in his near immortal life. But if they really must, then he supposed that he can't do anything to stop it. Then she began to bombard them with questions. "While the battle was ongoing, we unfortunately lost some of the others. We got split up. Taka and the others decided to go find them but those others were not... alive. The wyvern rider is gone too." He then raised his eyebrows as she mentioned about something about telepathy. "Someone spoke to you telepathically?" He asked. No one... No one in this group, or probably in the whole army, had the ability to use telepathy.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,771	62	76	1,792	1,093	---A Remote Forest--- - & - Keerin returned and was not happy at all seeing the arrow still lodged into his rib. "Ma'am, did I not tell you to remove the arrow? What part of that was I not clear about?" She began to antagonize Tomoe. "Come now, Keerin. She's doing her best." Jarde pleaded with a smile. "I think she did a good job. Besides, you're here now." Keerin sighed and said nothing more about the matter. "Now then, let us remove the arrow. It will only hurt for a moment, milord." "AGH!" -, , , (MNO) & - The sounds of rapid, heavy footsteps caught the group's attention and interrupted their conversations. Were they being followed? Was the fighting in Dragonrage Pass not done and had caught up? It appeared not as the footsteps sounded more distant by the second, fading away as soon as they appeared. Prince Jarde, however, had a bad feeling about it. "We should investigate." He stood up as soon as Keerin was done healing him and having put his armor back on. "Come on, everyone!" The prince then made his way towards the sounds of the footsteps, expecting everyone to follow him. While Merilia followed without hesitation, Keerin tried to protest but was forced to follow the flow with, presumably, the rest of the group. ---A Clearing Beside A Steep Base of a Cliff--- - (AZR)- You remember successfully fleeing from the battle of Dragonrage Pass with a strangely-dressed girl. However, you were followed by a group of Footmen from Gleivnir lead by a Gleivnir Warrior. You had no idea why though and they appear to be too threatening for you to ask. Soon, you and the girl get cornered as you run into a natural wall in the form of the foot of a cliff. The two of you were now surrounded with nowhere to run. Despite being the King of Archanea, the Gleivs do not recognize you and closed in on you. "Give us the girl and we shall spare you!" The Gleivnir Warrior demanded. "She is responsible for everything and she must pay!" You may have prowess in combat but you were outnumbered twenty to one. Plus you need to watch over the girl if you decide to not hand her over. And there seemed to be more coming... -, , , (MNO) & - Jarde lead the party through the woods and into a clearing where they see some twenty five Gleivnir Footmen with a Gleivnir Warrior leading them. They surrounded two figures against a steep, rocky wall that belonged to a cliff's bottom. "Wait, is that..." Keerin recognized one of the surrounded figures. "It's... it's the King Azure! The King of Archanea!" She pointed out. "Why is he being accosted by the Gleivs? And who is that girl with him?" "It doesn't matter! He's under attack! We should help!" Merilia unsheathed her sword. Jarde, meanwhile, could not decide. He wanted to help out the Archanean King but even then, they would be outnumbered. Footmen were not the best soldiers around but they could still overwhelm the party even with a Manakete. And so, the prince was once again indecisive. And once again, his allies will have to make the decision for him. -, & - (You guys can arrive separately or together if you wish) You made way for Dragonrage Pass, for reasons your own, and you reached the border between the Concilium and the Moon Kingdom. You were getting close but you had a feeling you were going to be a bit late for the meeting. And you realize you WERE going to be late as you stumble upon a clearing filled with twenty five Gleivnir Footmen with a Gleivnir Warrior leading them. They surrounded two figures against a steep, rocky wall that belonged to a cliff's bottom. One of the figures appeared to be some sort of royalty. Perhaps you would recognize him for you are Concilium people after all. Meanwhile the green-haired girl cowered behind the royal, her pointed ears indicated that she was not human.	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,772	62	77	729	2,152	Ansgar Staudinger "Fire and Damnation...." The Ereb tactician muttered to himself as he was making his way to Dragonrage Pass. Quite the name, Ansgar mused, the reason for such a naming could be seen for a variety of manners. One story was the rage of one of the dragons created such a pass, fanciful, but unlikely. While the Manakate kind certainly took upon themselves the form of a dragon, Ansgar was not one to put faith in divine dragons. Nay, his faith was much simpler, and far more reliable. But that was for another day of consideration really, as he made his way through the brush. He didn't want to be caught out in the open should he find trouble rather than anything else going on. And it was wise to assume as such, trouble was all he would find as fate conspired to further delay his already late schedule. Of course he would stumble across trouble that intended to prevent him from progressing further, to try and make up time on his already late schedule. Quite a few Gleivnir fellows, including one of their Warriors and the rest Footmen. Sure, a footman by himself was a laughable threat. But what appeared to be twenty five or so of them? Coupled with a Warrior leader? That would be, to an outside, casual glance, quite the threat indeed. However, there were a few key points that people tended to forget. Any group that relied on their leader overmuch, such as large groups of Footmen by virtue of their lack of actual skill outside fodder, could be vastly confused and scattered by a well placed blow to the head, or leader in this case. Gleivnir folk, thankfully, were not of Varjo and were not as heavily focused into fighting as those lot might be. From his hidden position, Ansgar noted a few more things. The royal guarding some abhuman girl, narrowing his eyes, he made out that it was, indeed, King Azure of Arachnea. Great, the tactician thought, this would make things more difficult. He could not leave a royal of an Concillium kingdom hanging in the breeze, as they say, but the numbers made this tricky. He suspected he spotted others beyond the footmen and their leading warrior, so he had a gambit he could play then. If they be friends, he would be able to buy time for the King and the incoming allies to strike at the exposed rear of the footmen. If they were foes, well, he'd figure that out. Buy time for the king and his ward to flee, then ditch the footmen and allies in the woods. Deciding on a course of action, Ansgar quietly grasped his Arcthunder, focusing his attention on the Gleivnir warrior, opening his tome and feeling the energy pulse through his veins. This was what made him enjoy using magical tomes, the feeling that rushed in his veins. The knowledge that the storm was coming, and in this case, they would not even see it coming. A hold over from his families insistence on feeling the tide of war as much as knowing it objectively. Calling forward the energies from Arcthunder, his face twisted as he, with a motion, aiming the entire force of the Arcthunder strike straight down onto the head of the Warrior, guiding it with pinpoint precision from his hiding point. With the strike made, Ansgar was revealed as he was seen at the edge of the clearing, standing with tome in one hand, his Levin Sword in the other, glaring coldly at the footmen of Gleivnir descent. His tone was cold and harsh, carrying through the clearing in an attempt to route the Gleivnir forces in one strike. "Accosting a royal of any kingdom bears with it a heavy penalty, you men are aware, yes? Some of a harsher cut might even consider death the only suitable penalty. Flee, and we will not pursue. This is your only chance." The Erebian tactician fully suspected that they would not turn and run, so he had to hope that his plan and read on the situation was as accurate as he thought it was, or this could go south in a hurry. Not that he would let that kind of doubt show.	Name: Ansgar Staudinger Sex: Male Class: Tactician Special Abilities: Clear Mind (Passive) Siege Expert (Passive) Blessed (Passive) Summon (Active) Equipment: Levin Sword Arcthunder History: Born within the kingdom of Ereb, one of the member kingdoms within the Concilium, Ansgar came from a family of soldiers within the nation itself. Whether they wielded the sword and marched for little more than coin, or were bloodthirsty killers seeking to slake their desires, effectively a Staudinger could have seen any real reason for fighting within their lineage. They were not heroes, nor were they readily known outside the family itself, but they were a proud lot and every child was expected to carry on their traditions. What they were not familiar with was the use of Tomes, of magic, to wage war. The first born of the latest generation, Ansgar, not only showed a capability for the use of tomes, but a talent for it alongside a level head that tended to sit back and view a situation from afar before engaging. Considering both his parents were the type to go roaring into battle with little heed for such things, there was a great deal of friction between parents and first son. Not because he refused to fight, not at all, but more because of how he chose to fight. Growing up, Ansgar would spend more time raised by a retired Sage of the town, a man versed in both tomes and staves, for his training in regards to the realms of magic. He would find himself with a natural preference for Thunder tomes, the sudden, blisteringly fast strike and low amount of time for reaction towards it. Agreeing to the boy's wishes, he would furnish him with tomes to practice with in return for chores and aiding the Sage in tasks he was too old and frail to engage in anymore. Meanwhile, he would continue learning the art of the sword from his uncle, splitting his attention, in regards to the required training to keep his family appeased, between swords and tomes, something most professions that anyone in the town knew about did not combine. However, his mentor in magic showed him historical documents about a rare breed of soldier, men and women who practiced tactics and battlefield support for other troops, those that wielded both swords and tomes to cover the weaknesses of their peers. The Tacticians, a group that Ansgar was instantly set on following in the footsteps of. As soon as he came of age, Ansgar was expected by his family to join the Ereb military as a mercenary, due to his training with the sword. Yet, he defied them one last time, walking out of the town with little more than a handful of gold from his mentor and truest friend, two names, and a goal in mind. The capital city of Ereb still had practicing tacticians, according to the Sage, and the name would get him in the door of the academy. Sure enough, despite many close calls with bandits and ne'er do wells, he would reach the capital and gain access into the Tactician's Academy of Ereb. He would spend quite a few years within its halls, brushing up on historical and military stratagems and making up for lost time that had over equipped him in single combat against foes. But, say what you would about Ansgar, he was more driven and stubborn than many who passed through the halls. Many nights, he would have to be forcibly dragged out of the library, just so they could close up and take care of the nightly cleaning and upkeep the place required. He would graduate from the Academy within several years, leaving to serve with Ereb not as a mercenary, but as a freshly minted Tactician. His training and the preparations to leave delayed him, so his original assignment had to be altered, instead being dispatched to investigate rumors of trouble between Dwarves and bandits. However, due to his late dispatch, things would certainly not turn out how he was expecting them to! Personality: "Cry HAVOC!" "I think we're done here!" "Time for a shocking turn." "Lightning does strike twice."
2,773	62	78	157	3,049	Mayhew Mayhew paused staring down the cliff edge, he'd been taking the path downward he noticed two people surround below him. He strained to see them through there demands of the larger party could be heard quite clearly it seemed as if they intended to harm the young woman below. He stopped to think for a moment, if he should dive headlong into this herd of enemies to protect- Never mind, lightning struck the warrior in the lead as a tactician stepped out into the clearing, that tore it. Jumping down cleaving his blade into the stone he slid down the surface before ripping the blade free landing before accosting soldiers, turning his head back towards those he was rescuing. He stared at the girl, she was not human and the man the young king of Archanea, Azure. Spinning his sword he cracked his neck with grin as he stepped up to the army. "My name's Mayhew Theodonis... You might also know by what Varjo's bandits call me... The protector." He stepped towards them with a half mad grin, the other half pure delight. "So who wants to test his steel against a proper soldier?" He looked next to the tactician giving a curt nod, letting him know he'd take orders if it came to a battle. Stabbing his blade into the ground he withdrew a Razelian coin flipping it idly as he waited for the soldiers reaction.	Name: Mayhew Theodonis Sex: Male Class: Noble Special Abilities: Clear Mind (Passive) - Increase Special Abilities slot by one but reduce Equipment slot by one. Does not occupy a slot. Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Blessed (Passive) - All weapons are effective against undead. Wyrmsbane (Passive) - All weapons are effective against dragons/wyverns. Equipment: Steel Sword (While strangely ornate the hilt is covered in a thick white cloth to obscure it.) Vulnerary History: Theodonis, a name once remembered by many and now nearly forgotten by all. For it is the name of the royal family that ruled Razelia, yet long have they been deposed and hidden from bandits of Varjo. Few believe any of remnant of them remains, but there is one the last prince practicing lost magic studying and working tirelessly. He does not plot to see his lands restored or his family on the throne, he plans revenge and death to visit upon the Joshua Caldeyron and his sister Leyanne Caldeyron. He will see barbarians who rule the lands tossed out, magic returned to the people. He will do this then he will instate a council and be gone, for he was not raised to be king or even to lead men. Mayhew was born to a coward king and dying queen in hut far from there palace home, he abandon his drunkard father at age ten. Setting out to find a way to tap into his native gift for magic and his love of sword play, it was there he met a traveling tactician. While he learned how position troops and the tricks enemies may use, his focus was always on personal power. His sword, the only thing of worth they had taken from the castle was the kingdom's holy blade, his magic seemed to strike true and deadly against his foes as if it carried his rage. As he grew under the tactician's tutelage he soon matched his master and combat, then left him to travel on his own. Roaming along the borders of Varjo he gain the moniker 'The protector' as he defended villages from bandits cutting down brigands and challenging the kingdom Varjo to do better. His reputation precedes him as many clamor to hire such talent, while those Varjo know the bounty on his head is high and they need not take him alive. With recent developments the mercenary has traveled to meet with the dwarves, believing them to be the key to seeing heads roll in Varjo. Arriving to late, he know searches for a way to escape the ensuring violence before it boils over and the last spark of Razelia dies with him. Personality: "Exhibit no restraint." "In case of doubt... ATTACK!" "Drop and burn'em." "Sometimes, you just have to roll a hard six... Or cheat."
2,774	62	79	612	2,191	Dragonrage Pass. The gateway between the Concillium and the Moon Kingdom. It was one of the last places on Zueche's list to search for Mihaela and Iya, however it could not be overlooked. It also served as a noteworthy place for him to return to should his quest to find his family go beyond the borders of the Concillium. It was also possible Mihaela and Iya had passed through this very passage, however Zueche had no means of knowing before. All he could do for now was look around. Unfortunately, his search would have to wait, for he happened upon a peculiar scene: several armed footmen and an armed warrior at the lead had surrounded someone who looked to be of importance, shielding a young girl. It intrigued Zueche enough that he did his best to tune in on what was going on, though it was hard to hear from where he was, amidst the trees and all. He felt the desire to help - after all, he was a father before an exorcist, and if it were his daughter up there, he would waste not a moment in rushing in to save her. The little girl shared his pointed ears, though he felt the two weren't quite the same. Even so, he wanted to help; he had to. If only because it selfishly reminded him of Iya. As Zueche was about to step in, however, he heard footsteps and voices to his left. 'A king, huh? Then that would make their attackers either stupid or sinners.' He waited a moment longer, wondering if anything else would happen before he had to intervene. Thankfully for him, his patience was rewarded - a young man had stepped into the fray and attacked, though likely only to stun, the Gleivnir warrior, and made a short speech about attacking royalty. Alone, he perhaps didn't sound all that intimidating. With Zueche alongside him, perhaps they would be more inclined to listen. His reputation seemed to precede him, after all, and the skulls generally terrified those who weren't familiar with how he actually summoned other world creatures. At the very least he would be able to stall for time, and perhaps grant the royal and the scared little girl beside him an escape. With a sigh, Zueche began walking forward, making his presence known to all in the vicinity. With his hands behind his back, he attempts to look as non-threatening (and noble, as he tends to accidentally imitate) as possible, all the while sending a threatening message. "I am not one to be judge, jury, and executioner, however there are instances wherein the accused are, without fault, guilty. It is very clear to even a villager such as I that the two in which you're trying to prosecute do not match your accusations. Do you have sufficient proof to make such claims? Or are you blindly trying to execute those whose alibi and even defense have yet to be established?" Zueche knew he could be very imposing when his anger rose high enough, and right about now he felt fairly angry, not that one could tell considering he almost always held the same face. As he drew near, Az reached down to his side and grabbed both of the skulls, stopping several meters before the Gleivnir people and lifting the skulls up. "I do not wish to use these, but I will if I must. Allow me to take them into custody. You have my word as a member of The Church. Soldiers such as yourselves need not bloody yourselves with that of a royal." It wasn't an amazing proposition, true, however Zueche didn't see much of an alternative. With what was happening so quickly, the opposing party needed to understand that he was not a threat, and neither was the young man who shot the Arcthunder at their leader, nor those who might come from the trees. Perhaps he could even use their lateness as an excuse to better their odds of taking back the girl. "Also... apologies for what my friend did to your leader." Spoke Zueche with a polite, yet short, bow. "He must have mistaken you for brigands - he's new to the party, see, and hasn't a whole lot of experience with these kinds of confrontations. I believe our comrades, whom were originally with these two, escorting them, are soon to arrive. In fact..." The young man turned around briefly, only to yell: "Come, my friends! The girl and her escort have been located!" If there was one thing you had to know about Zueche, he was an effective liar...	Ausch Entzer Sex: Male Class: Dark Mage Special Abilities: Clear Mind, Summon, Blessed, Aggro Equipment: Cleanse (dark magic spell book), Elixir History: There are tales of a man who wanders the kingdoms, causing carnage in his wake. It's said he's a ruthless killer who will spare no man quarter, and will brutally maul his foes with his fearsome dark magic. The story goes that he is actually an apostle of death, summoned unto the world to cleanse those that sin of their misdeeds, the punishment always the vanquish of life. With the crook of his finger, Mother Nature bends to his will; with every step, the soil seeps with fresh blood; with his every breath, a deadly toxin further poisons the lungs of mortal men. He is death incarnate, and there is no hope if you cross paths with him. There are also tales of a happy-go-lucky exorcist, whose abilities to commune with, summon, and obliterate the dead has brought him something of a reputation. He hops from town to town, vanquishing monsters, demons, or whatever else might trouble it's residents. He stays but a night, then vanishes into thin air, only to appear in the next town! He asks for no payment, and always does a free magic show for the children. This man is forever in search of wisdom, asking guidance from the elders and holding them in high regard, learning from their experiences to help him grow as a person. He has an unhealthy obsession with alcohol, specifically wine, and the men of countless villages agree he's an excellent addition to any and all taverns. As it so happens, both of these personalities are the same person. Zueche Ausch Entzer, nicknamed "Az" by those who can't pronounce or remember his name, is a loving family man on the search for his wife, daughter, and possibly newborn son. Raised as a simple working man, Zueche didn't have a whole lot of passion or things he wanted to do in life. The village he came from was small, the work was rather mundane, and he didn't feel like this was his place to be. Only in the small church of his local village did he find himself happy, as well as in the company of the village priestess, Mihaela. It made him feel like he could acquire some direction to his life, however he had no way of knowing how to acquire said direction. Thankfully for him, Mihaela held the key to that direction, both in heart and body. Zueche became an exorcist under the guidance of the church, with the aim to help assist the dead in passing on, from purgatory to whatever may lie beyond. With a little bit of natural talent in dark magic he never knew he had, Zueche quickly learned how to use his dark powers for good, in order to help those who couldn't pass on to do so. He spent much more time with Mihaela as a result, and it wasn't long before they fell in love, and subsequently got married within the small village in which they were both raised. The two started a happy life together, with good income and the support of the whole village behind them - they even decided to bear a child! Their daughter, Iya, looked a lot like her father in many ways: same pointed ears, red eyes, teeth which grew fast and sharp, though held the beautiful complexion of her mother. The couple assumed that their developing son would turn out the opposite, though had to wait and see for the turnout. Things were going well for the couple, and they were happy together, and vowed to spread that joy to others they believed were less fortunate. Ausch returned home one night after a successful exorcism in a neighboring village, only to find his wife and daughter weren't home. There was no signs of struggle, yet the door had been left opened. Naturally Zueche was suspicious, and asked the townsfolk if they'd seen his wife, Mihaela, or his daughter, Iya, anywhere. Yet they all gave the same answer, over and over: That they hadn't seen either of them since the night before, since Zueche left and they waved him goodbye. Though some villagers had seen someone enter their house... Concerned with the well-being of his wife and child, Zueche scoured the village, but there was little to be found. Not a trace as to their disappearance, simply emptiness. Growing evermore with worry, Zueche packed up his things, gave what belongings he couldn't take to the village, and began his journey around the lands in search of Mihaela and Iya. He has persisted in his journey for over a year now, and is still searching high and low for his family, aiding those he comes across to remind him of his goal, and ridding the world of those which plague it with evil deeds. Yet with success looking so distant upon the horizon, he has begun to consider enlisting the help of others to aid in his search, his desire to see his wife, daughter, and possibly newborn son growing stronger by the day... Born February 14th. Fastest at chugging anything alcoholic. "For my family!" "Cleanse the sinners...!" "Hahaha! Pathetic!" "You're an insult to the damned!" "This isn't over; but it will be!"
2,775	62	80	2,517	568	Tomoe Tomoe winced as she was reprimanded. "Forgive me, ma'am, but it's unwise to pull an arrow out of a wound without the proper attention from a healer--" she started. She cringed as Keerin yanked the arrow out of Jarde's thigh. "...Thank the gods he's not dead," she muttered to herself. She would lose her honor if he was. Soon, the army was on the move once more; Jarde had heard the distant footsteps of the Gleivnir, and had ordered them to investigate. Sure enough, Tomoe saw the man who was quickly identified as king of Archaenea, accosted by warriors of Gleivnir. They were demanding that he give them the green-haired manakete in his custody. "Perhaps it would benefit us to attempt to talk them down?" Tomoe suggested. That was immediately put out of the question when the tactician jumped out of the woods and struck a Gleiv in the cranium with an Arcthunder. "...I suppose that's out of the question," Tomoe sighed. Must all today's conflicts be the result of unfortunate misunderstandings? However, when the dark mage came in to assuage the situation with a little sweet talking, Tomoe stepped back a tad. She still had her guard naginata ready, but she waited for things to escalate before jumping in.	Sweet! Tomoe Minamoto Appearance: The chest and torso of her kimono is lavender, and the sleeves are dark orange. Her hair is also lavender, while the sash tied behind her iron armor is purplish-white. Her shoes and leggings are cool dark-grey. Sex: Female Class: Lance Fighter Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Pick Equipment: Guard Naginata, Vulnerary, Steel Naginata History: Tomoe was born the daughter to a locksmith; her mother passed away in childbirth, and upon finding out this fact Tomoe felt a sense of guilt. Not wanting to see his daughter so despondent, Tomoe’s father attempted to set aside Tomoe’s guilt and teach her how to build locks. Young Tomoe grew to love the time she spent with her father, as she would never feel alone while her father was around. She was exceptionally attached to her father and, in her early years, would cry if her father left. Tomoe was inspired to join the military in part due to her feelings of guilt, but largely by the lance fighters of her home country, especially the ones who had the duty of bodyguards. She admired those who had the strength to protect the important. Tomoe wanted to be that kind of person who could serve and protect; she couldn’t keep her mother alive, but she would fight to protect the people of her nation, especially the people who were responsible for representing those folks. As such, she joined the military. This prospect led to a very serious discussion with her father about joining the force. Perhaps her father saw a bit of his own sentiment in his daughter, and understood her motives. He gave her a locket containing a small portrait of her parents for safekeeping, as well as the tiny key to that locket. With a bit of guidance from the blue-haired tailor from across the street who was apparently also a member of the military, Tomoe enlisted and went through rigorous training through particularly the use of the naginata (perhaps in part due to her inspiration from said tailor). Eventually, she was called upon for numerous escort jobs, gaining a reputation as one of the most effective bodyguards in the land. She became known as a bane of assassins, and one of the most trusted guards among the royalty. She frequently wrote home to her father, and tinkered with locks and keys in her spare time. One job led to another, and she eventually found herself on mission to Arcadia, further than she had ever gone before. Of course she was nervous; she would be far away from everyone she knew, but she was determined to do her job and serve as protection. Naginata in hand, Tomoe set off. Tomoe becomes anxious if alone, and she is very protective of anyone she considers a friend. She is genuinely kindhearted, and not vengeful. She likes to spend her free time in her hobby of locksmithing, using whatever materials she can scrounge up to craft tumblers and keys, though she finds this a little hard to do on the road given the paucity of time, wood, or metal. She’s been known to purposely take hits to show off, but other than that, her job doesn’t give her such a big head. Born on Nov. 10th. Has the best sleight of hand in the army. -"HANDS OFF!" -"Click! You're dead." -"DROP. YOUR. WEAPON." -"BARRIER OF JUSTICE!" Personality:
2,776	62	81	1,836	2,626	King Azure He wasn't sure what had transpired in Dragonrage Pass. He had been invited - along with the other leaders of the kingdoms - to meet with the dwarves. Azure came fully prepared for a fight, but that was only because he was aware of the presence of the other bloodthirsty kingdoms that make up the Concilium. He never expected something like a full-blown war between the two races. It all started with that fire in the meeting tent. He stepped out for one moment and then he felt the searing heat coming from the tent. After that, it was only one disaster after another. While he was escaping the war in Dragonrage Pass, as he found his personal guards dead and the other Concilium soldiers too blind in battle to even realize his importance, he had stumbled across this oddly dressed girl. She looked so out of place and scared that he had no choice but to take her with him. He wasn't able to ask her any questions or even rest as he heard thumps of footsteps following him. When he looked back, the insignia of Gleivnir caught his eye. He could stop and ask them but seemed to be focused on chasing them down and attacking than reasoning. His luck soon ran out when he was faced with a cliff. It was too steep to climb. He turned around, desperate to find an opening to escape to but found himself surrounded by the forces of Gleivnir. He counted twenty... no twenty five? Somewhere along those lines. His hands were firmly wrapped around the hilt of his sword as he took a stance. They wanted the girl? She was responsible for everything? He took a peek at the green haired girl behind him. He never saw it before because he was too busy running and protecting her but he only know saw the pointed ears she possessed. He has seen those before. They cared for one after all. A Manakete. He returned his attention back at the group. There was no mistake, this girl was a Manakete. These Gleivs might be right in the assumption that she caused the fire. A Manakete could spit fire after all. However, with the look she had been giving him, it didn't look like it. No cold-blooded murderer would willingly get surrounded by enemies and not attack back. "This girl? You must be sorely mistaken." He scoffed. "Attack me and I will convince the other kingdoms to turn their blades against Gleivnir. You stand there, threatening the King of Archanea!" No. He wouldn't be able to take all of them, even if he was alone. There were too many of them. He was trained to fight groups, but not entire units of men. Then there was also the General who was certainly leagues above these footmen. Tch, general rule in fighting a lot of enemies - weed out the weak first. However, that would prove to be challenging. He could keep his distance and use Lunaris. It could also prove useful in fighting when surrounded, but that would drain his energy much faster than simply using his sword. A low sound one can register as a growl escaped his lips. He was frustrated. There was no way he could win. His ears also picked up the sound of other footsteps. Reinforcements? That made it all the more hopeless. However, his stance did not waver. "If you are really that intent in taking the girl, then you would have to pass me." If he would die now, he would go down fighting. They say a stance can tell a lot about a person, and his stance was telling them one thing. 'Leave'. However, three people had decided to join him. He knew not who they were, not yet at least. He had yet to analyze who they were. First was who seemed to be a tactician. He called lightning and struck it on one of the soldiers. It seems whoever this was also knew of him being king. He guessed both of these knew as well. Ha, so they were willing to help. Such nice people. No one would know that they didn't help a royal since he would've died. The other one had slid down from the cliff hanging above. How he did such a feat was beyond him, but he knew that this man was certainly skilled. Mayhew Theodonis. Okay, that was a name he should surely remember. Wait, he made a double back as he looked at the armored male. Theodonis? He had heard of that name before. A name from before his own time but not too long before. He may have heard it from their resident old guy - Myno. He'll think more about that later once they were done with this whole shindig. "Do not mistake me not fighting as of now as something in lack of ability. I am as able as a fighter as you." He whispered to the male but made sure not to let anyone but Mayhew hear it. The last one looked familiar. Ah, a man known by rumors spread by the people - a Dark Mage going by the name of Zueche. The male continued to speak. Ah, so this one wasn't as violent as the rumors said he was. This was a good one. Azure lowered his sword ever so slightly and his tense muscles relaxed. Only time will tell if this would work. It was a good idea though. Myno Myno was not sure how many conversations he was going to be in with this group that will suddenly be interrupted. Footsteps - heavy and quick. He closed his eyes, weighing each one with precision thanks to his sharper hearing. These were certainly soldiers. A whole unit perhaps? Two more were way ahead. Lighter footsteps, wearing little to no armor. He opened his eyes again as Prince Jarde stood up and said that they should investigate. The prince was as justice seeking as ever. His eyes darted from each one, knowing that they would go. Even in given the hopeless situation of saving their comrades, they went. He grunted as he stood up, the dull pain of the attack that had hit him previously still present. He could see Keerin once more wanting to protest but was forced to follow. He followed behind the group, keeping his ears open in case someone else were following them. It would be bad if they would be ambushed from behind just because they wanted to know what was happening. They stopped and he did as well before peering through the group and then seeing a familiar face. Keerin was right, this was the King of Archanea. There was no mistaking it. That face was the face that told him to go into this group. Black hair and azure eyes were the traits Archanean Royalty were so proud of. The black sword that he had been holding was a family heirloom - and one that Myno had seen slicing through the skeletons and ghouls of Gaia's army. His eyes trailed to the girl behind him. His eyesight wasn't too sharp as to see what she actually was, but she certainly looked helpless. He probably picked her up from the battle back at the pass. But why was a girl like her there? He snapped out of his thoughts when Merilia unsheathed her sword, ready to battle with so many enemies to help out the young king. Prince Jarde wasn't as willing. Myno understood why. They were greatly outnumbered. "Were you not the one who suggested checking this out Prince Jarde? There is only one choice now." He pointed out, obviously saying that they should go and rescue the king. It had nothing to do with Myno wanting to save the king of the kingdom where he had resided for the years after the war, but because this was the group's kind of thinking. That decision of his soon changed when three other people stepped into the fray and the last one made a proposition. Ah, so they were going through this with guile and trickery? Fine by him. Myno raised his hood and then waited for the others to see if they would move or not.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,777	62	82	470	1,609	Taka "Guys, guys, guys, can't we just take a good day off for once? I mean like do we have to run off into danger all the time?" Taka jokes around as he chases after the group, sighing and trying to conserve as much energy in case he needs to think of another emergency escape...again. Then again, it was the only thing he thinks about nowadays due to it being one of his major strengths. Once they came upon a strange situation of a royal person defending a rather small helpless girl. He didn't know why the others seemed to be taken aback from the predicament but he already knew that the group would want to engage and become the heroes in the scenario. Sighing once more as he realized he's going to need to work again, he taps Tomoe and the sword lady on their backs as he heads off to ask Jarde for permission... "Lord, you want me to cut off their escape routes and if anything...take one for ourselves in case more approach? I can definitely sneak around and go do so since we haven't gotten their attention yet but I'm definitely going to need Tomoe or swor~...Eclisse to aid me in case any soldiers come after me. Don't worry, I'll have a good point to take a few shots if they're needed, after all...I won't miss. Just look for an arrow in the sky in case I can confirm that I secured an escape route...two arrows in the case that we're getting swarmed by some random brigade of sorts. If you don't mind me doing so of course."	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,778	62	83	1,310	1,136	Nyx A decision which would cause a fight Nyx would look to the ground for a few minutes listening to Myno reply about the telepathy thing. When the sound would be heard by the rest of the group. She would follow close behind them all... Struggling to keep up, upon arriving she looked at the girl and the man with her. Which is when the option was suggested. "I suggest we let King... Azure, was it? Fight on his own... But save the girl with him. I have a feeling the girl was kidnapped by that man!" She seemed to be happy with her decision, but felt no one agreed as everyone started to suggest to save the man. Nyx didnt know why... but that girl's ears reminded her of something for some reason... She would shrug it off as she stood back a bit... Getting ready to run in to save the girl... Considering what happened last time she transformed. She didnt want to put everyone into the same danger again.	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,779	62	84	1,792	1,093	---A Clearing Beside A Steep Base of a Cliff--- -, , & (AZR)- The Gleivnir Warrior noticed the Arcthunder strike coming and had evaded it. The entire Gleivnir force shifted their attentions at the newcomers who had come to the defense of King Azure and the girl he is protecting. Also, the King's identity had been firmly confirmed which sparked doubt and confusion amongst the Footmen. With sweat sliding down his face, the Gleivnir Warrior was a bit intimidated but it was quickly replaced with rage when the newcomers offered more sensible ways of resolving the situation. "NO!" He cried. "You don't understand! If she doesn't pay now, she will never, ever pay for what she has done!" His voice indicated that he had no intention that this encounter would end peacefully. "Attack! CHAAARGE!" The Footmen broke out of their confusion and just followed their order, not bothering to learn more about the situation. Ansgar, Zueche and Mayhew all had three Footmen on them, their swords eager to draw blood. They may be just Footmen but they still had numbers. The rest of the Footmen turned their attentions to somewhere else. To another group that had engaged them from behind. People knowledgeable of Concilium politics would recognize one of them to be Prince Jarde. The prince of Ereb who has a black streak on his brown hair. Meanwhile, the Gleivnir Warrior charged Azure but then tossed his axe at the King, forcing him to either evade it or catch it. The Gleivnir Warrior tackled the girl to the ground and put his hands around her neck to choke her to death. "I will pay any price to see your retribution!" -, , , & (MNO)- "Lord, you want me to cut off their escape routes and if anything...take one for ourselves in case more approach? I can definitely sneak around and go do so since we haven't gotten their attention yet but I'm definitely going to need Tomoe or swor~...Eclisse to aid me in case any soldiers come after me. Don't worry, I'll have a good point to take a few shots if they're needed, after all...I won't miss. Just look for an arrow in the sky in case I can confirm that I secured an escape route...two arrows in the case that we're getting swarmed by some random brigade of sorts. If you don't mind me doing so of course." "You don't need to do that, Taka." Jarde replied. "Though, I do agree that if fighting breaks out, we should keep one alive and ask him what exactly is going on. Preferably that Gleivnir Warrior as he is the one leading this group and probably the one who knows the most." "I suggest we let King... Azure, was it? Fight on his own... But save the girl with him. I have a feeling the girl was kidnapped by that man!" Merilia looked at Nyx incredulously. "Wha? How dare you accuse the King of Archanea like that?" She began to scold the Manakete. "King Azure is an honorable and good man who has no reason to kidnap a girl." "But..." Keerin interjected. "We should not rule out the possibility that there might be more to this than we know." Suddenly, the Gleivnir Warrior yelled. "Attack! CHAAARGE!" The Gleivnir unit charged at the King Azure and the newcomers. Merilia could only gasp while Jarde brandished his sword. "Merilia, Tomoe, Eclisse. I want you with me and take some Footmen off King Azure. Keerin, Taka. I want you two to stay back and pick off as many Footmen as you two can. Myno and Nyx, I won't force you two to fight as you are both exhausted from our last battle but if you want, assist us in fighting the Footmen." "Understood? Now then, let's go!" Prince Jarde, along with Merilia, charged into the Footmen group and with a battle cry, caught the attention of several Footmen who shifted their attentions from King Azure's group to Jarde's party. Meanwhile, Keerin has begun casting a spell to wreak havoc upon the Gleivs. However, there were some Footmen on Azure's group with the Gleivnir Warrior tackling the green-haired girl to the ground.	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,780	62	85	1,836	2,626	King Azure Azure clicked his tongue. What exactly was this Warrior doing? He kept on saying that the girl behind him had to pay as if she's done something extremely wrong. He doesn't get it. Why? Why was he after her? If only the man would talk about it, then Azure would simply be able to do a proper investigation and trial. However, it would seem that the Gleivnir Warrior was too focused on bringing justice on his own hands. The order echoed around and the sound of fighting broke out. The black haired male's eyes widened when the Warrior threw his axe at him and he made the decision to dodge to the right. He raised his sword, fully expecting for him to be tackled. But the Warrior dashed, not towards him, but towards the girl behind him. He let out a curse under his breath and prepared to tackle the Warrior off. However, his eyes managed to see that the footmen had decided that attacking the others was a bright idea. They might get overwhelmed but he placed enough trust on those soldiers so Azure turned back to the Warrior to now see him choking the girl. "Pick on someone your own size!" He yelled before running towards them and then used the momentum to kick the Warrior off. If that didn't work, he would drive his sword through him but without much force behind it so it wouldn't pierce he guy and stab the girl too; it also gave him the chance to stop the sword if the Warrior was to ever dodge it. Myno Myno looked at Nyx as she suggested that maybe King Azure was actually her captor. He let out a small chuckle as Merilia and Keerin both put forth their ideas. "Must you two be always on opposing sides?" He asked before flinching as he heard the Gleivnir Warrior order an attack. He managed to spare a glance to see the Warrior strangling the girl that had been cowering behind Azure. He nudged Nyx and then said, "So much for King Azure being the captor and these Gleivs being her rescuer." He then looked at Jarde barked out orders. True, his body still ached from the earlier damage and he was pretty tired. He wasn't sure if he would be able to access his full power. "I will certainly try." Myno replied and then watched as they all charged. He looked at his dragonstone and then took a deep breath. Another bright light flashed and then he appeared as the same yellow dragon from earlier. He then would attempt to swipe the soldiers away.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,781	62	86	565	508	Eclisse watched as the Gleivnir warriors surrounded the king and the girl that he was protecting. Everyone had proposed a different suggestion but the situation changed when some newcomers got caught up in the fight. "Merilia, Tomoe, Eclisse. I want you with me and take some Footmen off King Azure. Keerin, Taka. I want you two to stay back and pick off as many Footmen as you two can. Myno and Nyx, I won't force you two to fight as you are both exhausted from our last battle but if you want, assist us in fighting the Footmen." Eclisse nodded at the prince's plan and charged in with him, though she had another idea. "Hey you dastards! Over here!" Eclisse split off from Jarde's group and yelled a taunt at all the warriors. She cut a few down just so she could get the point across.	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,782	62	87	729	2,152	Fire and Damnation! The Warrior was fast on his feet, the Ereb tactician granted the man that. Ansgar had no time to dispatch orders to the other warrior who had come to assist the King, or the other mage fellow for that matter. The warrior seemed to be on his backfoot, but whatever the girl had done to slight the man and his kingdom, it seemed to overrule reason or fear. Great, zealots, he hated that kind of person. Put their beliefs mindlessly ahead of reason. But, there was little time for debate or discussion now, his gambit on the oncoming group had been accurate. They scattered to dispatch their forces, a Princeling that seemed oddly familiar, though Ansgar wasn't as up to date on politics as one might think necessary to put a name to a face from such a distance. Not a bad spread, if he was reading their numbers right, and would have joined in on the main assault if he wasn't so rudely accosted by the three footmen charging him, swords drawn and eager to draw Erebian blood. How rude, he decided, flourishing his Levin Sword. First rule of fighting tacticians, never expect a simple fight. Seems they had forgotten a nasty trick Levin Swords, and other magic swords in general, employed. Those with magic talent could use them to strike from a distance, and he smirked, the flourish calling down lightning towards the leading footmen. Not as potent as an Arcthunder, mind you, but the strike was meant to accomplish two things. Firstly, scatter them, since instinct seemed to be avoid the danger instead of bear its brunt and power through. Second, if the footman wasn't as aware as the warrior, the blast of lightning would likely not do the man's wellbeing any favors. The next motion would be to put the right most footmen between him and the left most, sword flashing across in a parry, catching the charging attack and a low sweep of the leg turning all that redirected momentum into a trip to send the footmen sprawling. Which would also force the third footmen to either waste a precious few moments scrambling over, or helping, his fellow up or trip on him as well. Dancing backwards, he created enough distance between himself and the scrambling footmen to flourish his tome. "You think numbers will help, brazen ones? Never underestimate a tactician's ability to tip the scales!" With the created distance, Ansgar decided to employ a trick that his mentor had explained back home. Sages, and other mages, might often find themselves accosted by numbers or a situation that would not be favorable, or need something to prevent hostiles from following them. As such, he learned a method of reaching out, to call for aid from places unknown, and make such help manifest in the here and now. Sure enough, with a gesture, he opened a gate, the swirling purple fog filling in between him and the footmen. One minor problem was that, typically, he hadn't the foggiest clue what was going to come through from the other side. However, considering the situation, it would still be more useful to have something between him and the footmen instead of being completely outnumbered. Hopefully it would be something useful for the given situation...	Name: Ansgar Staudinger Sex: Male Class: Tactician Special Abilities: Clear Mind (Passive) Siege Expert (Passive) Blessed (Passive) Summon (Active) Equipment: Levin Sword Arcthunder History: Born within the kingdom of Ereb, one of the member kingdoms within the Concilium, Ansgar came from a family of soldiers within the nation itself. Whether they wielded the sword and marched for little more than coin, or were bloodthirsty killers seeking to slake their desires, effectively a Staudinger could have seen any real reason for fighting within their lineage. They were not heroes, nor were they readily known outside the family itself, but they were a proud lot and every child was expected to carry on their traditions. What they were not familiar with was the use of Tomes, of magic, to wage war. The first born of the latest generation, Ansgar, not only showed a capability for the use of tomes, but a talent for it alongside a level head that tended to sit back and view a situation from afar before engaging. Considering both his parents were the type to go roaring into battle with little heed for such things, there was a great deal of friction between parents and first son. Not because he refused to fight, not at all, but more because of how he chose to fight. Growing up, Ansgar would spend more time raised by a retired Sage of the town, a man versed in both tomes and staves, for his training in regards to the realms of magic. He would find himself with a natural preference for Thunder tomes, the sudden, blisteringly fast strike and low amount of time for reaction towards it. Agreeing to the boy's wishes, he would furnish him with tomes to practice with in return for chores and aiding the Sage in tasks he was too old and frail to engage in anymore. Meanwhile, he would continue learning the art of the sword from his uncle, splitting his attention, in regards to the required training to keep his family appeased, between swords and tomes, something most professions that anyone in the town knew about did not combine. However, his mentor in magic showed him historical documents about a rare breed of soldier, men and women who practiced tactics and battlefield support for other troops, those that wielded both swords and tomes to cover the weaknesses of their peers. The Tacticians, a group that Ansgar was instantly set on following in the footsteps of. As soon as he came of age, Ansgar was expected by his family to join the Ereb military as a mercenary, due to his training with the sword. Yet, he defied them one last time, walking out of the town with little more than a handful of gold from his mentor and truest friend, two names, and a goal in mind. The capital city of Ereb still had practicing tacticians, according to the Sage, and the name would get him in the door of the academy. Sure enough, despite many close calls with bandits and ne'er do wells, he would reach the capital and gain access into the Tactician's Academy of Ereb. He would spend quite a few years within its halls, brushing up on historical and military stratagems and making up for lost time that had over equipped him in single combat against foes. But, say what you would about Ansgar, he was more driven and stubborn than many who passed through the halls. Many nights, he would have to be forcibly dragged out of the library, just so they could close up and take care of the nightly cleaning and upkeep the place required. He would graduate from the Academy within several years, leaving to serve with Ereb not as a mercenary, but as a freshly minted Tactician. His training and the preparations to leave delayed him, so his original assignment had to be altered, instead being dispatched to investigate rumors of trouble between Dwarves and bandits. However, due to his late dispatch, things would certainly not turn out how he was expecting them to! Personality: "Cry HAVOC!" "I think we're done here!" "Time for a shocking turn." "Lightning does strike twice."
2,783	62	88	1,310	1,136	Nyx "Wha? How dare you accuse the King of Archanea like that?" Nyx gulped deeply as she was scolded by Merilla. She backs away slowly as she doesn’t take her eyes off the girl with the king. "Look the king is stabbing the girl!" She says trying to cause a distraction so she can make a quick escape. She gulps deeply as she notices Tomoe speaking with the king. This was going to be a horrible decision, Nyx ran onto the battlefield towards Tomoe and King Azure. She takes her chance with grabbing the girl that was with the king by the hand and before running off the battlefield. She was out of breathe…. "Y-y-you… a-are…. safe…. Now-w"	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,784	62	89	1,792	1,093	---A Clearing Beside A Steep Base of a Cliff--- - (AZR) & - Azure managed to kick the Gleivnir Warrior off the green-haired girl. Then, Nyx appeared and pulled the girl away to safety. The Gleivnir Warrior saw his target get taken away and with his Footmen occupied by fighting, there was no way he could catch her. Despair filled his eyes but anger took its place when he looked back at Azure and Tomoe. With mindless rage coursing through his body, the Gleivnir Warrior screamed at them before throwing his backup knife at Tomoe. The knife was easy to either block or evade but hitting Tomoe was not its intention. The Gleivnir Warrior used the distraction to charge at Azure and with all of his strength, lifted the King to the air. He then threw Azure at Tomoe, sending them both to the ground. As Azure and Tomoe got back up, the Gleivnir Warrior recovered his axe. He waited for a move to happen and it was clear from his eyes that someone was not walking out of the fight alive. - (MNO)- Your sudden appearance as a great dragon stroke fear and terror in the hearts of the Footmen with many of them dropping their arms and running away. Even more ran away as you ravaged the unit with the assistance of your allies. The strangers who came to the aid of King Azure summoned creatures which further demoralized the Footmen. Soon most of the Footmen had either died or routed away. The few who remained and continued the fight were finished off by Prince Jarde, Merilia, Keerin and the summoned monsters. You get a feeling that things might get bad if they tell Gleivnir about this battle with the Concilium. As the short battle closed, you see King Azure and Tomoe facing off an angry Gleivnir Warrior. On the other hand, Eclisse was fighting six Footmen she had taunted when the battle started. She might have bit more than she could chew when her weapon was swatted away by a shield. -- Your taunt caught the attention of six Footmen and they went after you, splitting them off from the main force and likely giving Jarde and the others some room to breathe a bit. But still you were outnumbered and, despite being only Footmen, you could do nothing against them but block and evade their attacks. After blocking an attack, a Footman managed to knock away your weapon with his shield. Defeating the Footmen, or even just surviving, was going to be tricky. -- The Footmen you were fighting were all recovering from your initial attacks and could not interrupt your summoning. A purple mist formed in front of you and when it dissipated, a large spider appeared in its place. A Bael was brought forth and immediately charged the awed Footmen. Your other allies also summoned monsters and that coupled with the appearance of a yellow-scaled dragon ravaging the enemies, the Footmen unit was sent running away terrified and demoralized. Soon most of the Footmen had either died or have routed. The few who remained and continued the fight were finished off by the allied group and the summoned monsters of your group. As the short battle closed, you see King Azure and a foreign-dressed woman facing off an angry Gleivnir Warrior. On the other hand, you see a girl fighting six Footmen unarmed, her weapon swatted away by a shield. -- After the purple fog dissipated, a Mauthe Doog appeared but it did not wait for you to give it commands, instead it charged at the disoriented Footmen and quickly tackled to the ground one of the hapless soldiers. Your other allies also summoned monsters of their own and that coupled with the appearance of a yellow-scaled dragon ravaging the enemies, the Footmen unit was sent running away terrified and demoralized and that meant no one followed you as you made your way to King Azure. You reach King Azure's position just in time to see him get lifted into the air by the Gleivnir Warrior and hurled at the foreign warrior. The Gleivnir Warrior picked his axe and faced the royal and the foreigner. He did not appear to notice you, however, so you may have the element of surprise on him. -- The creature you summoned was a Mauthe Doog, brought forth from a purple mist. It wasted no time in attacking any incoming Footmen alongside you. Your other allies also summoned monsters and that coupled with the appearance of a yellow-scaled dragon ravaging the enemies, the Footmen group was sent running away terrified and demoralized. Soon most of the Footmen had either died or have routed. The few who remained and continued the fight were finished off by the allied group and the summoned monsters of your group. As the short battle closed, you notice that King Azure get lifted into the air by the Gleivnir Warrior and hurled at the foreign warrior. The Gleivnir Warrior picked his axe and faced the royal, the foreigner, and by extension, you. The enemy Warrior looked angry but also sad. You feel he has given up, only fighting since he has nothing else to do. Fortunately the green-haired girl was escorted away by a girl with bluish-green hair. At least that was one problem dealt with. -- "Y-y-you… a-are…. safe…. Now-w" The green-haired girl was too confused to resist you but looked relieved that she was spirited away from the trouble with relative ease. "T-Thank you, Miss." She began. "But... who are you? And what's going on?" Her gaze returned to the battle. It appeared that the Footmen were all running away which meant that your party had won the fight. "I-I'm not even sure where we are. Please tell me what's going on, I'm so confused..."	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,785	62	90	729	2,152	Ansgar smirked to himself, watching the large spider lunge into the awed ranks of footmen. Never underestimate someone, he thought with a quick glance, taking in the situation as it was developing. Manakate had shifted, and having a dragon bear down onto the footmen ranks was likely disorientating and demoralizing. Coupled with the two other summons arriving to even out the numbers, it seemed the footmen were having trouble with the idea of what was a two on many, was now rapidly turning into a route. And indeed, the footmen that yet lived and could run, were running. The king was still fighting the warrior, who seemed more interested in fighting to the death than simply running to live another day. Foolish, really, the fight was lost. No sense in continuing to struggle, really. Then again, he considered, opening combat how he did would have appeared foolish as well. Yet, look how everything turned out. But, one more fact was noted that he simply could not allow to continue. One myrmidon woman, going off her style and manner of carrying herself, was being accosted by six footmen that yet lived. She was unarmed too, and it seemed her weapon was at the feet of the one footman who had disarmed her. How embarrassing. While it would not even appear to be more than a scant heartbeat, the Ereb native considered the situation. King Azure, still being accosted, and the original reason for engaging in combat. He had help, however, and likely could handle his own against a single warrior even if it was not the case. However, he knew not the skill level of the woman who had been disarmed, and she had also come to the aid of the King, alongside the others. The king's ward, the reason for him to stand his ground, had been spirited away to safety as well. That made the next course of action rather clear, and self explanatory. No sense losing bodies so close to a victory snatched from the previously yawning jaws of tragedy. As such, the plan came to mind quickly. She needed support, and a chance to reclaim her weapon. First objective was simple, the second, not so much. With the Bael doing its own thing, as they say, and the ignored orders from one of the other summoners that had acted as such, he knew it would continue to do so. As such, that left it to him since no one else seemed to be moving to her aid. "Let's clean things up, shall we?" He muttered to himself, striding forward as the Bael did its work rather admirably, he had to admit, seeing the large spider had been a surprise. A pleasant one, but a surprise none the less. But now, to work. Opening Arcthunder again, he sheathed his Levin Sword to focus and concentrate on what needed to be done. She had gotten their attention remarkably well, as such, he doubted they would turn readily, at least at first. First blow had to open a path to her weapon, following strikes, to cover her. As such, as that familiar surge of power coursed forward, he snapped his hand downwards as the pages of his tome turned on their own, conjuring forth another potent strike of Arcthunder, hurtling down with that familiar sound following, right onto the head of the center footmen who had disarmed the woman. He did not advance any closer, focusing more on providing ranged magical support to the woman beset by foes, whether she chose to regain her weapon or continue to evade, and open up more chances for him to strike out against the footmen besetting her. He would continue to provide his ranged support as long as she remained in danger, once they cleaned up, introductions might need to be in order. Then he had to continue to the Dragonrage Pass, though things here might have to do with events there.	Name: Ansgar Staudinger Sex: Male Class: Tactician Special Abilities: Clear Mind (Passive) Siege Expert (Passive) Blessed (Passive) Summon (Active) Equipment: Levin Sword Arcthunder History: Born within the kingdom of Ereb, one of the member kingdoms within the Concilium, Ansgar came from a family of soldiers within the nation itself. Whether they wielded the sword and marched for little more than coin, or were bloodthirsty killers seeking to slake their desires, effectively a Staudinger could have seen any real reason for fighting within their lineage. They were not heroes, nor were they readily known outside the family itself, but they were a proud lot and every child was expected to carry on their traditions. What they were not familiar with was the use of Tomes, of magic, to wage war. The first born of the latest generation, Ansgar, not only showed a capability for the use of tomes, but a talent for it alongside a level head that tended to sit back and view a situation from afar before engaging. Considering both his parents were the type to go roaring into battle with little heed for such things, there was a great deal of friction between parents and first son. Not because he refused to fight, not at all, but more because of how he chose to fight. Growing up, Ansgar would spend more time raised by a retired Sage of the town, a man versed in both tomes and staves, for his training in regards to the realms of magic. He would find himself with a natural preference for Thunder tomes, the sudden, blisteringly fast strike and low amount of time for reaction towards it. Agreeing to the boy's wishes, he would furnish him with tomes to practice with in return for chores and aiding the Sage in tasks he was too old and frail to engage in anymore. Meanwhile, he would continue learning the art of the sword from his uncle, splitting his attention, in regards to the required training to keep his family appeased, between swords and tomes, something most professions that anyone in the town knew about did not combine. However, his mentor in magic showed him historical documents about a rare breed of soldier, men and women who practiced tactics and battlefield support for other troops, those that wielded both swords and tomes to cover the weaknesses of their peers. The Tacticians, a group that Ansgar was instantly set on following in the footsteps of. As soon as he came of age, Ansgar was expected by his family to join the Ereb military as a mercenary, due to his training with the sword. Yet, he defied them one last time, walking out of the town with little more than a handful of gold from his mentor and truest friend, two names, and a goal in mind. The capital city of Ereb still had practicing tacticians, according to the Sage, and the name would get him in the door of the academy. Sure enough, despite many close calls with bandits and ne'er do wells, he would reach the capital and gain access into the Tactician's Academy of Ereb. He would spend quite a few years within its halls, brushing up on historical and military stratagems and making up for lost time that had over equipped him in single combat against foes. But, say what you would about Ansgar, he was more driven and stubborn than many who passed through the halls. Many nights, he would have to be forcibly dragged out of the library, just so they could close up and take care of the nightly cleaning and upkeep the place required. He would graduate from the Academy within several years, leaving to serve with Ereb not as a mercenary, but as a freshly minted Tactician. His training and the preparations to leave delayed him, so his original assignment had to be altered, instead being dispatched to investigate rumors of trouble between Dwarves and bandits. However, due to his late dispatch, things would certainly not turn out how he was expecting them to! Personality: "Cry HAVOC!" "I think we're done here!" "Time for a shocking turn." "Lightning does strike twice."
2,786	62	91	1,310	1,136	Nyx A conversation with a person who isnt crazy Nyx would look back at the green haired girl and lets out a sigh of relief. She was expecting to be killed or something. She shuts her eyes as she just listens to the green haired girl "My name… It's Nyx, And currently an army is attack. We are currently standing at the edge of a forest and a mountainous field" She smiles kindly her ears visibly similar to that of the green haired girl "Now may I ask your name now? Were you kidnapped? Please tell me you were kidnapped by that man" Her personality had completely changed when she began to speak about King Azure "I dont trust him"	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,787	62	92	470	1,609	Taka "Kay kay...ugh, you gave me the fun job again. And there goes the others...yay, I get to hang by myself. At least all the other troops are running away, hell I don't even need to hide when I go take my shot. I'll be right back." Taka starts walking off, taking his dear sweet time to find a nice shooting position on the ridge they were at. After all, he had no doubt that no one would come attack him from the rear. Taking aim at the Gleivnar Warrior who seemed to be busy dealing with the other side forces there, his first arrow was aimed at the man's hands. The second shot was aimed for his legs so that he can prevent him from fleeing, while his last shot which he put the least effort in was to take care of one of the men Eclisse was facing. He was laughing as he got the easy first two shots at the main warrior, despite the fact he wasn't trying to kill him...he was still getting a chance to take on another big target without too much difficulty. Nothing could go wrong so far...nothing. "Hehe, bulls-eye!" (crit quote if the first two shots hit) Perfect conditions to shoot, no trouble from all directions...Taka could get used to this. That and he didn't even have to plan an escape route this time, maybe the group's luck finally changed!	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,788	62	93	612	2,191	Noting the success of his summoned creature, Zueche decided to let him loose on the footmen and not bother communicating with it further. There were some beasts from the other side which just couldn't be reasoned with, and would have to be sent back forcefully. He hoped the footmen would prove a decent distraction, though. His attention now lay ahead, towards the Gleivnir warrior and the royalty whom he'd thrown. An impressive feat of strength, certainly, however Zueche himself held some strengths himself... As he moved in closer he steadied his movements, watching the warrior and preparing to cast his Cleanse spell. As luck would have it, two arrows would be flung towards the warrior also, increasing the chances of Zueche's spell hitting. With the noble safely out of range thanks to the Gleivnir warrior's earlier throw, Zueche shot forth his magic with precise, yet powerful casting. "This should do it..." He muttered to himself quietly with a faint smile spreading across his lips, expecting his magic to decimate the man. His magic would fly towards his foe in an instant, aimed towards his center of mass...	Ausch Entzer Sex: Male Class: Dark Mage Special Abilities: Clear Mind, Summon, Blessed, Aggro Equipment: Cleanse (dark magic spell book), Elixir History: There are tales of a man who wanders the kingdoms, causing carnage in his wake. It's said he's a ruthless killer who will spare no man quarter, and will brutally maul his foes with his fearsome dark magic. The story goes that he is actually an apostle of death, summoned unto the world to cleanse those that sin of their misdeeds, the punishment always the vanquish of life. With the crook of his finger, Mother Nature bends to his will; with every step, the soil seeps with fresh blood; with his every breath, a deadly toxin further poisons the lungs of mortal men. He is death incarnate, and there is no hope if you cross paths with him. There are also tales of a happy-go-lucky exorcist, whose abilities to commune with, summon, and obliterate the dead has brought him something of a reputation. He hops from town to town, vanquishing monsters, demons, or whatever else might trouble it's residents. He stays but a night, then vanishes into thin air, only to appear in the next town! He asks for no payment, and always does a free magic show for the children. This man is forever in search of wisdom, asking guidance from the elders and holding them in high regard, learning from their experiences to help him grow as a person. He has an unhealthy obsession with alcohol, specifically wine, and the men of countless villages agree he's an excellent addition to any and all taverns. As it so happens, both of these personalities are the same person. Zueche Ausch Entzer, nicknamed "Az" by those who can't pronounce or remember his name, is a loving family man on the search for his wife, daughter, and possibly newborn son. Raised as a simple working man, Zueche didn't have a whole lot of passion or things he wanted to do in life. The village he came from was small, the work was rather mundane, and he didn't feel like this was his place to be. Only in the small church of his local village did he find himself happy, as well as in the company of the village priestess, Mihaela. It made him feel like he could acquire some direction to his life, however he had no way of knowing how to acquire said direction. Thankfully for him, Mihaela held the key to that direction, both in heart and body. Zueche became an exorcist under the guidance of the church, with the aim to help assist the dead in passing on, from purgatory to whatever may lie beyond. With a little bit of natural talent in dark magic he never knew he had, Zueche quickly learned how to use his dark powers for good, in order to help those who couldn't pass on to do so. He spent much more time with Mihaela as a result, and it wasn't long before they fell in love, and subsequently got married within the small village in which they were both raised. The two started a happy life together, with good income and the support of the whole village behind them - they even decided to bear a child! Their daughter, Iya, looked a lot like her father in many ways: same pointed ears, red eyes, teeth which grew fast and sharp, though held the beautiful complexion of her mother. The couple assumed that their developing son would turn out the opposite, though had to wait and see for the turnout. Things were going well for the couple, and they were happy together, and vowed to spread that joy to others they believed were less fortunate. Ausch returned home one night after a successful exorcism in a neighboring village, only to find his wife and daughter weren't home. There was no signs of struggle, yet the door had been left opened. Naturally Zueche was suspicious, and asked the townsfolk if they'd seen his wife, Mihaela, or his daughter, Iya, anywhere. Yet they all gave the same answer, over and over: That they hadn't seen either of them since the night before, since Zueche left and they waved him goodbye. Though some villagers had seen someone enter their house... Concerned with the well-being of his wife and child, Zueche scoured the village, but there was little to be found. Not a trace as to their disappearance, simply emptiness. Growing evermore with worry, Zueche packed up his things, gave what belongings he couldn't take to the village, and began his journey around the lands in search of Mihaela and Iya. He has persisted in his journey for over a year now, and is still searching high and low for his family, aiding those he comes across to remind him of his goal, and ridding the world of those which plague it with evil deeds. Yet with success looking so distant upon the horizon, he has begun to consider enlisting the help of others to aid in his search, his desire to see his wife, daughter, and possibly newborn son growing stronger by the day... Born February 14th. Fastest at chugging anything alcoholic. "For my family!" "Cleanse the sinners...!" "Hahaha! Pathetic!" "You're an insult to the damned!" "This isn't over; but it will be!"
2,789	62	94	2,517	568	Tomoe Tomoe easily saw the knife coming; she had dealt with countless knives in her training, and deflected the weapon with ease using her guard naginata. However, what she did not expect was the purported client being used as heavy artillery and thrust upon her with enough force to cause her to buckle and crumple to the ground. Tomoe yelled out, a sharp pain shooting up her left leg. Damn it! she thought, for King Azure surely was not any better off than she; she did her best to stand upright, but buckled a bit, for although she could shield herself from any bad damage to her bones, the blow had caused her to fall the wrong way and thus sprain her leg. Despite this, she ignored the pain, though she was standing with a visible limp. Hopefully a healer could get to her in time, but she had to defend the king at all costs. She assumed a defensive stance, and stared down the warrior.	Sweet! Tomoe Minamoto Appearance: The chest and torso of her kimono is lavender, and the sleeves are dark orange. Her hair is also lavender, while the sash tied behind her iron armor is purplish-white. Her shoes and leggings are cool dark-grey. Sex: Female Class: Lance Fighter Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Pick Equipment: Guard Naginata, Vulnerary, Steel Naginata History: Tomoe was born the daughter to a locksmith; her mother passed away in childbirth, and upon finding out this fact Tomoe felt a sense of guilt. Not wanting to see his daughter so despondent, Tomoe’s father attempted to set aside Tomoe’s guilt and teach her how to build locks. Young Tomoe grew to love the time she spent with her father, as she would never feel alone while her father was around. She was exceptionally attached to her father and, in her early years, would cry if her father left. Tomoe was inspired to join the military in part due to her feelings of guilt, but largely by the lance fighters of her home country, especially the ones who had the duty of bodyguards. She admired those who had the strength to protect the important. Tomoe wanted to be that kind of person who could serve and protect; she couldn’t keep her mother alive, but she would fight to protect the people of her nation, especially the people who were responsible for representing those folks. As such, she joined the military. This prospect led to a very serious discussion with her father about joining the force. Perhaps her father saw a bit of his own sentiment in his daughter, and understood her motives. He gave her a locket containing a small portrait of her parents for safekeeping, as well as the tiny key to that locket. With a bit of guidance from the blue-haired tailor from across the street who was apparently also a member of the military, Tomoe enlisted and went through rigorous training through particularly the use of the naginata (perhaps in part due to her inspiration from said tailor). Eventually, she was called upon for numerous escort jobs, gaining a reputation as one of the most effective bodyguards in the land. She became known as a bane of assassins, and one of the most trusted guards among the royalty. She frequently wrote home to her father, and tinkered with locks and keys in her spare time. One job led to another, and she eventually found herself on mission to Arcadia, further than she had ever gone before. Of course she was nervous; she would be far away from everyone she knew, but she was determined to do her job and serve as protection. Naginata in hand, Tomoe set off. Tomoe becomes anxious if alone, and she is very protective of anyone she considers a friend. She is genuinely kindhearted, and not vengeful. She likes to spend her free time in her hobby of locksmithing, using whatever materials she can scrounge up to craft tumblers and keys, though she finds this a little hard to do on the road given the paucity of time, wood, or metal. She’s been known to purposely take hits to show off, but other than that, her job doesn’t give her such a big head. Born on Nov. 10th. Has the best sleight of hand in the army. -"HANDS OFF!" -"Click! You're dead." -"DROP. YOUR. WEAPON." -"BARRIER OF JUSTICE!" Personality:
2,790	62	95	1,836	2,626	A Time of Turmoil King Azure Azure sighed in relief as the woman he was protecting had been taken away by a green haired girl. That was useful. He also took note of the others who had entered the fray. Myno, the yellow dragon he had become familiar with, was also there so it was safe to assume that this was Prince Jarde of Ereb's division. A small troupe, they said. Well, there was no use on observing the ones he will be meeting afterwards right now, as there were more important matters at hand. He looked at a person who had decided to go and aid him. A girl, someone who looked form the foreign country of Iapana. She told him to get the girl to safety. "I see that one of your members already has that cover-" He was abruptly stopped when the Warrior screamed and then threw a dagger at Tomoe. In that instant, the Warrior managed to pick him up. Quite a fear, he would admit, as he knew that he was in no way light. Azure was then thrown towards Tomoe and then they crashed down together. Azure let out a groan as he rolled himself off Tomoe and grabbed his sword. "Apologies. I was distracted." Azure admitted before using his sword to aid him to stand up quickly. He saw that the Warrior looked like he was ready to take the both of them on. Though when he saw that the other two (of his side) took position and then sent two arrows and a spell towards him, Azure decided to stay his hand but kept himself prepared just in case the Warrior survives such an onslaught of attacks. It surely looked devastating from where he was looking. Myno Seeing the soldiers scatter at the sight of a dragon and three summons, Myno sighed in relief. Less people to worry about. He then looked around. The problem with the Warrior seemed like it was going to be resolved and there were already four people against him. He trusted them enough. The woman King Azure was protecting had been retrieved by Nyx too - though he does think she's saving her for the wrong reasons, it still completed the objective. He looked towards Eclisse who had been surrounded and was now weaponless. The tactician from earlier was already helping and was scattering the enemies with his Arcthunder. However, it was increasingly obvious that he wouldn't be able to get them all in quick succession so he decided to help out. Tapping into his natural fire inside his belly, he let out a fireball towards the soldiers furthest away from Eclisse so that she wouldn't be hurt by the explosion.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,791	62	96	1,792	1,093	---A Clearing Beside A Steep Base of a Cliff--- -- The thunderstrikes of your spell send the Footmen accosting the Myrmidon girl into disarray, allowing her room to maneuver. You realize that she didn't have to as you see the Prince slash one of the Footmen from behind while an arrow takes down a Footman nearby. Before the Footmen could properly react, a female Hero gave them the nastiest glare you have seen yet. That was enough to send them running. And with that, the battle was over. Soon all the Footmen that could flee, wounded or not, had fled. Several bodies of the Gleivs lie on the ground with the three monsters you and your allies summoned searching and finishing off any survivors. You spot the Gleivnir Warrior lying on the ground, his armor singed by dark magic and two arrows sticking out of him. He was likely dead. As things calmed down, you find yourself amongst the Dark Mage and the other warrior just outside from the group who was currently tending to King Azure. Then, the prince approached the three of you while his companions continued to tend to the Archanean King. "Greetings warriors. I am Prince Jarde Devaron of Ereb." He introduced himself. "You three have done a great service to the Concilium. I'm not sure if you know but you just saved King Azure of Archanea. I'm not sure what he is doing here but I guess we'll find out soon enough." "Anyway, may I know who you all are?" -- The dark orb of your spell hits the Gleivnir Warrior who could not move, immobilized by the arrows that pierced his armor. Once the orb made contact, he was blown back into the ground and there he lay unmoving. He was probably dead by now, his armor singed by your magic and two arrows sticking out of him. As things calmed down, you find yourself amongst the Dark Mage and the other warrior just outside from the group who was currently tending to King Azure. Then, the prince approached the three of you while his companions continued to tend to the Archanean King. "Greetings warriors. I am Prince Jarde Devaron of Ereb." He introduced himself. "You three have done a great service to the Concilium. I'm not sure if you know but you just saved King Azure of Archanea. I'm not sure what he is doing here but I guess we'll find out soon enough." "Anyway, may I know who you all are?" -- Despite having a sprained leg, you stood valiantly to protect the King of a country you may not know. However, a couple of arrows struck the Gleivnir Warrior then a dark orb blew him to the ground and likely killing him. Regardless whether you were relieved you did not have to fight the Gleiv or displeased that you did not have to fight the Gleiv, the battle was over. You and your party regrouped with King Azure while the warriors that came out and protected the royal waited just outside the group. Jarde immediately commanded Keerin to take a look at King Azure and once they found him to be fine, the Ereb Prince went over to the other warriors as he ordered Keerin to take a look at you and the others. The aqua-haired Sage approached you first. "Lady... err, Tomoe correct?" She took a look at your limb. "I saw King Azure get hurled at you and with his size, it would be miraculous for you to emerge unharmed. Where are you hurt?" She asked. -- All your arrows hit true, taking a Footman down and immobilizing the Gleivnir Warrior allowing the Dark Mage to launch a dark orb of magic at the Gleiv and blow him to the ground dead. The Footmen fighting Eclisse were also routed, thanks to some Arcthunder bolts and Merilia's death glares. You and your party regrouped with King Azure while the warriors that came out and protected the royal waited just outside the group. Jarde immediately commanded Keerin to take a look at King Azure and once they found him to be fine, the Ereb Prince went over to the other warriors as he ordered Keerin to take a look at you and the others. Keerin first took a look at Tomoe while Merilia approached you while looking at the battle's aftermath. "Well that could've gone better, but also a lot worse. I'm glad none of us died. None of us are seriously injured too." She remarked. "Still, the whole thing is confusing. What do you think happened?" -- "Now may I ask your name now? Were you kidnapped? Please tell me you were kidnapped by that man. I dont trust him." "M... my name?" The girl repeated. "My name... I-I don't know. I don't... I don't remember." By not being able to answer that question, it was clear that you may have a case of amnesia on your hands. "And... and that man. I think... I think he saved me. At least I think so." She said while she looked at King Azure. "Why don't you "	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,792	62	97	1,310	1,136	Nyx Support conversation 1 - The girl with Amnesia Nyx looked at the girl with confusion "Y-y-you dont remember what your name is? Thats unusual..." She sighs as she looks to the ground before hearing the girls response to the other question she asked "Most of the time people with power such as a king end up having no need for people like us. They usually only save or ask for things to benefit themselves" Nyx sat down on the ground and invited the girl to come sit with her. She would fiddle with her necklace for a moment before removing it. She looked into the green stone in the center of it "Do you know how to defend yourself? Do you have anything that man would want to do?"	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:
2,793	62	98	470	1,609	Taka "Hoi, commander, we should really be wary on who're we're letting into our ranks more...if not actually watch out for other forces coming. Since I'm done with my job with assisting all the people you wanted me to shoot at...I do want to report that thanks to that magic guy, I wasn't able to capture the leader. I had him disarmed too damn it. I'll try to make up for that some other time but I think I'll go find a quiet spot to rest if not practice a few more shots. After all, got to keep the good aim streak going so practice makes perfect. If you don't mind of course." Taka regroups with the others with his bow now back on his back...and his arms stretched toward the sky. He was quite tired after shooting the precise shots despite getting somewhat of a chance to rest due to his lack of participation in that last fight. The ex-bandit just wanted some time to himself, rather letting the others mingle for a bit as he practices or naps...definitely doing both but not in that particular order.	Name: Taka Hadakoto Sex: Male Class: Outlaw Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Beastbane, and Slayer (Clear Mind) Equipment: Iron Bow, Vulnerary History: A family of brave samurai and knights...though Taka could never compete. He was never athletically fit as his family members, nor was he willing to be the one on the front lines. His grandfather noticed his determination to make them proud, but his stubborness to pick up the blade made the matter worse. This led to him being trained with the way of the bow under the tutaglage of his grandfather. However, when the rest of the family caught wind of this, Taka was exiled from the Hadakoto family and forced to live by himself in the city of Archanea. There, he did his best to complete his training while becoming a sort of Outlaw in the process as he usually used his arrows as diversions for all sorts of heists. He may be an Outlaw, but he's still a willing and friendly Archer at heart. Personality: Read rules XD
2,794	62	99	1,792	1,093	---A Clearing Beside A Steep Base of a Cliff--- -- "Do you know how to defend yourself? Do you have anything that man would want to do?" The girl declined your invitation to sit by staying stood up. "No, I do not know how to defend myself." She answered. "And I don't know that man so I'm not sure what his intentions are. All I know that I was being chased and he joined me while I was running, promising to protect me." She turned her gaze to your party in the clearing who appear talking to each other, probably trying to make sense of the situation. "Aren't you part of that group, Nyx? Shouldn't you be with them right now?" The girl said. "Well either way, I thank you for saving me. I'm not really sure from who though..." -- "Hoi, commander, we should really be wary on who're we're letting into our ranks more...if not actually watch out for other forces coming. Since I'm done with my job with assisting all the people you wanted me to shoot at...I do want to report that thanks to that magic guy, I wasn't able to capture the leader. I had him disarmed too damn it. I'll try to make up for that some other time but I think I'll go find a quiet spot to rest if not practice a few more shots. After all, got to keep the good aim streak going so practice makes perfect. If you don't mind of course." "That's okay, Taka. Battles are chaotic so it would be hard to make plans work. I admit that it's a shame but no use crying over spilled milk." Jarde replied to you, sparing a moment from the new warriors. "Don't stray too far, alright? We may be moving out again soon." As you leave, you pass by the body of the Gleivnir Warrior who lied on his back. However, you hear whispers and wheezing coming from the body's direction. "...War... So much war... So much blood..." If you decide to hear more, you find that he was just repeating those words over and over as life left him. "...War... So much war... So much blood..."	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,795	62	100	2,517	568	Tomoe Long story short: The Gleiv died. Tomoe lowered her weapon and flinched from the sharp pain. “Well, the king is safe,” she said, satisfied. “That dastard, whoever heard of throwing a human being at a soldier? Never in my life…” Tomoe limped over to the rest of the group. I’ll have to watch my footing next battle, she thought. No use being a bodyguard if I can’t protect my own blasted ankle. Tomoe let out a breath and sat down as Keerin came to her. “Yep, that’s me,” Tomoe replied. “Thankfully, it’s just a sprained ankle; my weapon took most of the impact, and I’m glad that he wasn’t hurt by being used as a crude ballista.”	Sweet! Tomoe Minamoto Appearance: The chest and torso of her kimono is lavender, and the sleeves are dark orange. Her hair is also lavender, while the sash tied behind her iron armor is purplish-white. Her shoes and leggings are cool dark-grey. Sex: Female Class: Lance Fighter Special Abilities: Ironbreaker, Pick Equipment: Guard Naginata, Vulnerary, Steel Naginata History: Tomoe was born the daughter to a locksmith; her mother passed away in childbirth, and upon finding out this fact Tomoe felt a sense of guilt. Not wanting to see his daughter so despondent, Tomoe’s father attempted to set aside Tomoe’s guilt and teach her how to build locks. Young Tomoe grew to love the time she spent with her father, as she would never feel alone while her father was around. She was exceptionally attached to her father and, in her early years, would cry if her father left. Tomoe was inspired to join the military in part due to her feelings of guilt, but largely by the lance fighters of her home country, especially the ones who had the duty of bodyguards. She admired those who had the strength to protect the important. Tomoe wanted to be that kind of person who could serve and protect; she couldn’t keep her mother alive, but she would fight to protect the people of her nation, especially the people who were responsible for representing those folks. As such, she joined the military. This prospect led to a very serious discussion with her father about joining the force. Perhaps her father saw a bit of his own sentiment in his daughter, and understood her motives. He gave her a locket containing a small portrait of her parents for safekeeping, as well as the tiny key to that locket. With a bit of guidance from the blue-haired tailor from across the street who was apparently also a member of the military, Tomoe enlisted and went through rigorous training through particularly the use of the naginata (perhaps in part due to her inspiration from said tailor). Eventually, she was called upon for numerous escort jobs, gaining a reputation as one of the most effective bodyguards in the land. She became known as a bane of assassins, and one of the most trusted guards among the royalty. She frequently wrote home to her father, and tinkered with locks and keys in her spare time. One job led to another, and she eventually found herself on mission to Arcadia, further than she had ever gone before. Of course she was nervous; she would be far away from everyone she knew, but she was determined to do her job and serve as protection. Naginata in hand, Tomoe set off. Tomoe becomes anxious if alone, and she is very protective of anyone she considers a friend. She is genuinely kindhearted, and not vengeful. She likes to spend her free time in her hobby of locksmithing, using whatever materials she can scrounge up to craft tumblers and keys, though she finds this a little hard to do on the road given the paucity of time, wood, or metal. She’s been known to purposely take hits to show off, but other than that, her job doesn’t give her such a big head. Born on Nov. 10th. Has the best sleight of hand in the army. -"HANDS OFF!" -"Click! You're dead." -"DROP. YOUR. WEAPON." -"BARRIER OF JUSTICE!" Personality:
2,796	62	101	565	508	Slowly but surely the soldiers were slain, Eclisse served as quite a distraction for the group, but she didn't come out of the fight without injury. One of the soldiers must of got her in the middle of the fight, because there was a slash across her abdomen, the blood had all but stained Eclisse's white coat. "Ugh... Starting to regret giving Roane my only Vulnerary... Heh, ah well... Its just a flesh wound..." Eclisse made her way back to the group, apparently there were some new faces. "Well... Not as hectic as it was at the camp... But I actually took a hit back there... Anyone got a sec... Bleeding over here..." Eclisse tried to make a joke out of it, try to dumb down the seriousness.	Name: Eclisse Gender: Female Age: 21 Class: Myrmidon Special Abilities: Clear Mind(passive) Slayer(passive) Blessed(passive) Aggro(active) Equipment: Blackfang(A special sword that has an unnaturally poisoned blade, Eclisse has adapted to the poison and could even make an antidote for it if she wanted) Vulnerary History: Hailing from Archanea, Eclisse lived most of her life as an orphan when a party of bandits raided her village and killed her parents. Thankfully, her uncle was a trained mercenary and was able to chase the bandits off with a handful of his men. With nowhere but a burnt down village to go to, Eclisse was taken in by her uncle. Over the years, Eclisse's uncle taught her how to use a blade and what it takes to be a mercenary herself. Eventually she developed her own techniques and even learned the best ways for taking on less human opponents, from your common beast to undead creatures. She eventually left her uncle's mercenary group to strike out on her own. Her skills as a mercenary have taken her to many kingdoms, from smaller ones like Magi Val and Ereb, and even to larger kingdoms like Gleivnir and Varjo. She'll help anyone for a price, but if someone is in particular need, she won't turn a blind eye. Personality: Miscellaneous: She recieved her sword Blackfang from her uncle, as a sort of rite of passage to becoming a great swordsman.
2,797	62	102	1,792	1,093	---A Clearing Beside A Steep Base of a Cliff--- -- “Yep, that’s me, thankfully, it’s just a sprained ankle; my weapon took most of the impact, and I’m glad that he wasn’t hurt by being used as a crude ballista.” "Indeed. Lord Azure is indeed fortunate he is not hurt much." Keerin agreed as she crouched to take a look at your ankle. "I suppose you are lucky too, only having a sprained ankle. Here, let me take care of it." And with her Heal staff, the Sage's hand glowed light blue and the soft, relaxing energy transferred to your ankle and suddenly, the pain of the sprain was gone. "Normally, I'd say this was a waste of magic but I suppose I have plenty to go around." "Also, I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier." Keerin stood up and dusted her robe a bit. "Prince Jarde is... a very important person to me. I hope you understand." She said before attending to the Myrmidon Eclisse. -- "Well... Not as hectic as it was at the camp... But I actually took a hit back there... Anyone got a sec... Bleeding over here..." "I am here. Let me see your wound." The Sage Keerin approached you and took a look at your wound. "This is a bad slash. It would get worse if it is not attended immediately. Here..." Keerin, with Heal staff in hand, conjured some light blue energy in her free hand which then transferred to your slash wound on your abdomen. The wound closed but the blood staining your clothes was there to say. "I'm afraid we'll have to see someone in laundry duty to get rid of that." Keerin remarked, referring to your stained clothes. "I must commend you for bravely drawing the attention of several Footmen, Miss." Keerin said. "It is a tad foolish but brave nonetheless."	UNITS IN ARCADIA CONCILIUM "Battle-hardened warriors with exceptional skill. Can wield axes in addition to swords." "A seasoned Mage or Healer with a high affinity for magic. Wields tomes and staves." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Concilium Footmen usually have red and blue as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." VARJO "Varjan Warriors come alive in the midst of bloody battle; thriving on the slaughter of their foes." Varjan Warriors are fighters of remarkable prowess. Their strength is infernal and their bodies are as tough as steel. Encased in suits of masterfully-forged armor, a Varjan Warrior is equal to several mortal fighters. One could say they are no longer truly human, but living weapons, honed perfectly for the bloody tasks before them. He has nothing but contempt for almost everything and goes about the business of murder with a vengeance. A Varjan Warrior's only solace is in the slaughter - the fulfillment of his new existence as an instrument of his nation's violent will, and at battle's end, his armor is splattered with the lifeblood of the slain. Halberdier variant Varjan Warriors equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Elites are greater than their Varjan brethren, more powerful and savage in close quarters, especially with great weapons." There are those amongst the ranks of the Varjan Warriors who bear the favor of King Caldeyron more than their fellows. Known amongst their kind as Elites, their frames are swollen due to inhumane training, and "boons" bestowed on them by their King in recognition of the many fell deeds they have committed. Even if an Elite warrior bears no such stigmata, it is clear that he carries the grace of the Caldeyrons from his aura of dark menace. The Elites are truly the nobility of Varjo. The Elites lead by example, fighting not as commanders but as veteran warriors and champions. In this way, the Elites hope to attract yet more of their Majesty's favor and ascend to the ranks of the truly exalted. They advance unflinchingly through magical bolts, hails of arrows and punishing artillery volleys, their purposeful thread never falters as they march ever closer to their prey. Battle lines have buckled and broken at the mere prospect of a unit of Elites closing in upon them, blades raised so that the methodical butchery of the foe can begin. Halberdier variant Varjan Elites equipped with the mighty halberd to take down larger foes for Arcadia is full of monsters and beasts larger than man. "Hellriders deliver a terrifyingly powerful charge to enemy lines, particularly if armed with a lance." Hellriders are feared throughout Arcadia and beyond as merciless butchers capable of turning the course of battle with a single charge. They are towering brutes atop immensely powerful Hell Steeds, rider and mount clad in thickest plate, each section of armor crafted by a master blacksmith. A Hellrider's greaves are jagged blades, well suited to slicing through the flesh of the enemy. Even the frightful reputation of the Hellriders is a weapon in its own right, crippling those who would stand against them before a single blow is struck. Many Hellriders charge to war with great lances, evil-looking polearms designed to impale and tear their foes. Others wield a deadly assortment of weapons, from cleavers and war-picks to heavy maces. Some Hellriders even brandish magical blades, each bearing a small measure of power. Regardless of the form or the hexes inscribed upon these ensorcelled weapons, they are all enchanted in order to kill, and most flicker with dark fire. Each Hellrider is a paragon amongst his warrior brethren, for he has trod the path of damnation for many years and holds the favor of the Varjan King. A Hellrider's horned helmet may conceal a twisted and permanent rictus smile of sharp metallic fangs, or a striking and cold beauty that steals the breath away. Few have a chance to find out, for those who behold the Hellriders of Varjo are but moments away from a grisly end. A full unit of Hellriders, galloping at speed, will hit a battle line like the mailed fist of the gods. Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Varjan Footmen usually have black as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." GLEIVNIR "A heavily-armored brawler who can swing a large axe as if it were a feather. His mighty attacks can tear through foes and obstacles." Footmen are paid as full-time professional soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at all times. In addition to forming a standing army to repel enemy attack, Footmen also serve as city guards, the fire watch and the enforcers of the law. However, most of the time these soldiers spend their days drilling and training with various weapons to the barked instructions of grim-faced sergeants and veteran marksmen. Every state trains its regiments to fight together, providing each other with mutual protection on the battlefield. Footmen often march to battle with detachments of differently armed troops to aid them. These detachments form up close to their regimental units, where they guard vulnerable flanks and provide battlefield support, either by joining their regimental units in the bloody melee of close combat with swords and maces and axes and other similar weapons, or by showering oncoming enemies with missile fire. Gleivnir Footmen usually have gold and silver as their uniform colors. Bow variant "Although inaccurate, Bow Footmen provide a cheap, plentiful line of defense against the oncoming enemy." Spear variant "With a spear in hand, these men are no heroes, but they are stalwart defenders of their homelands." *Polearm variant "Although Footmen are not particularly skillful with such weapons, they can defend their homelands with them well enough." DWARVES "With weapons in hand, Dwarven Infantry lay into the front lines with unremitting violence." Dwarves make formidable fighters - they are strong and extremely resilient, broad of shoulder and wide of girth. Although by no means quick, they are physically robust and can maintain a steady plodding pace, marching for days on end despite being loaded down by burdens and heavy mail. When they charge into battle, the momentum generated by their wide, armor-clad bodies is remarkable, hitting the foe with a resounding impact. Protected by their heavy mail, their skillful use of overlapping shield walls and, finally, by their own tough and obstinate nature, Dwarf individuals, units and armies as a whole seem able to absorb punishing blows that would cause other races to break and flee. "A volley of Dwarven crossbow bolts will travel far and hit hard, particularly against the lightly armored." When the Clans are called to fight, some Dwarves arm themselves with crossbows and join the battle as Bolters. These formations are tasked with raining bolts down upon their foes - a task they perform with orderly zeal. Bolters seek to thin down the enemy's ranks, punish units attempting to outflank their own forces and engage in ranged duels with the foe's missile-armed troops. Dwarves have never taken to bows, partly because they do not suit their short physical stature, but also due to the limitations of such weapons in confined tunnels. The powerfully-built Dwarf crossbow can easily fire shots that outdistance the puny bows used by Man, and the crossbow bolts pack enough punch to devastate lightly armored foes. With typical Dwarf precision, a unit of Bolters will unleash its hail of bolts, reload, take aim and fire again. Protected by heavy armor and their own sturdy constitutions, it is a rare day when an enemy - even one with more skilled marksmen than the Dwarves - can win a long-ranged shooting contest against a unit of Bolters. Of course, should the enemy approach near enough to engage the Bolters in close combat, they will find hardened warriors eager to put their axes and shortswords to work. While the devotees to the rifle have grown over the years, they have not replaced the crossbow. There are many Clans that prefer the range of the crossbow, while the most traditionalist simply rile against any technological progress and the regrettable lack of "elbow grease" needed to fire a rifle instead of winding a crossbow winch to reset its formidable shot.
2,798	62	103	1,836	2,626	King Azure Azure sheathed his sword. The Warrior had been defeated. Before addressing anyone else, he looked around to look for the green haired girl he was protecting. Seeing her with the girl who had taken her to the side earlier, he sighed in relief. At least she was safe. He turned his head back to the group who gathered around and then walked towards them. "I sincerely thank you for your assistance in fending off the Gleivnir soldiers. I do not know what would happen to me and to that girl." The young king said before bowing his head even though he was of higher position than them. He then looked up once more to burn the faces of those present. He saw Myno, the Manakete who he had sent off to join a regiment that was to be formed at Dragonrage Pass. Little did he know that a Prince of Ereb would be part of this little regiment of theirs. Surprising, the father didn't look like he was much of a fighter because of his attitude. Guess it didn't run in the family. Placing a hand on the hilt of his sword to put him more at ease, he sincerely smiled at the people there. "I am curious though, does any of you know what had happened in Dragonrage Pass?" He asked, truly unknowing of what exactly transpired in the accursed place where the lands were painted with crimson blood. While he would have seen it in another perspective, considering that he had gone there for the meeting itself, it did not seem that he was any more knowledgeable of the cause of the war than the others.	Name: Alfred Syrene Class: Tactician Special Abilities: = Aggro (Active) - Attract the attention of enemies in the near vicinity. Once per battle. = Summon (Active) - Call for an ally from the unknown. Exclusive to Tome users. Once per battle. Equipment: Iron Sword Elfire Pouch of Gold History: Alfred comes from a long line of Tacticians, the last practitioners of the Razelia school of strategy. His great-grandfather was a Grandmaster, and a servant of the Chercheurs. It is the Syrene family's greatest shame, that they were unable to defend their lieges against the Caldeyron. After their failure, rather than leave Arcadia like the Chercheurs, the Syrene family traveled to the Concilium, where they split apart and joined various mercenary bands. Alfred was born a mercenary, and taught tactics and strategy by his mother. After she died, Alfred felt little allegiance to his mercenary band, so he left to seek out a more fulfilling position as a Royal Tactician, and he hopes to one day earn the title of Grandmaster. For the past few years, Alfred has been touring the Concilium, trying to find royal patronage. After helping a Duke with some bandits, he was given his tattoos. The tattoos are made with ink derived from Spirit Dust, which is how Alfred first became able to use Tomes. However, common bandits don't give one a great opportunity to show his skills. After hearing of the trouble in the troubles between the Dwarven kingdom and Varjo, Alfred saw his chance, and set off to make his name in the conflict. Personality:
2,799	62	104	1,310	1,136	Nyx Support conversation 1- The girl with Amnesia (P2) Nyx sighs as she felt awkward sitting down while the girl stood, she would get to her feet and smiles back to the girl "Maybe I can get someone to teach you! Cause I doubt this will be the last time you are chased, tends to happen a lot" She would realize what the girl had just said and immediately she would panic a bit "Why were the people chasing you? Still don’t trust that man's motives!" Nyx would turn to her party and then back at the girl "I-i-I am….. Technically…. But I find that the group over there arent in need of me" She sighs "I saved you from that man! He is most likely a fiendish king with no use with people he finds unworthy of his company. Also saved you from all those footmen down there which were fighting with everyone else"	Name: Nyx (Before anyone says anything, no she is not named after FE:Conquest’s Nyx(She is named after my D&D Dragon’s Name)) Class: Manakete Special Abilities: Ironbreaker (Passive) Iron Scale (Passive) Equipment: Dragonstone (It is within a pendant that she wears around her neck) Elixir Vulnerary History: Nyx spent her life with her parents, they were always over protective of her as they didn’t trust either of the armies during the Gaia war. They had kept her locked in a house near the peak of a mountain and they handed her a pendant with a green like stone within it. They told it if at any point something was going to endanger her life this stone would protect her. She was sort of confused but she trusted her parents. Days passed as the Gaia war continued and there was the sound of armies fighting echoing through the mountains and the sound of marching. Both of Nyx’s parents shoved her into a compartment in the floor and told Nyx to be quiet. Next thing Nyx knew few minutes later there was screams of her parents and blood seeped through the floor into the small compartment. Moments past and Nyx sneezes. The compartment opens and she blanked out. Next thing Nyx remembers is awakening in a destroyed house and finding no remains of any creatures. She looks to the pendant around her neck. She spent the next few years watching over the war from the shadows and waiting for the faithful day that she is summoned Personality:

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