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52,702	1,430	12	309	452	Antafien listened to his fellow graduates, his attention turned to Aerea His red eyes looked at her, he found her rambling a bit bothersome as this was nothing they didn't know already, but he had learned to keep his words more tactful "there is nothing we can do at this moment aside from helping out the town, that should be our first priority. Help with that for now, and try to remain calm, for the civilian's sake at the least." he said as he turned toward the door that Edun and Bram had ran into "For the most part other races tend to be more afraid of my kind then anything else. Most would simply run at the sight of me. I would be of little help in the town, I will investigate the academy with those two" he had no illusions of how people looked at him, simply for being a Drow. Most people thought he was going to flay them alive and make clothes out of leather from there skin. He walked into the door then broke off into a sprint, he as one, if not the fastest of the group as he didn't take him long to catch up to the pair. "so what is the plan then" he stated as he easily caught up to the pair.	Name: Antafien Avury'lyl Age: 26 Race: Drow. Hometown: Vaneel Biography: An orphan in Vaneel he grew up around humans and knew few of his own kind, as they are rare among the other races preferring to keep to themselves in there underground cities. The only thing he had of his parents was a weapon his father left him, though he kept it hidden as it was a rare Drow weapon and despite being able to fetch a high price he didn't want to lose the only connection to his parents. Becasue of his alienation from others he found solace in the underground labyrinth, and explored them often. Though his became his greatest strength living on the streets as he soon could navigate that labyrinth with ease. He would pop out, steal something and quickly slip away in one of the many openings through out the city. This however caught the eye of the cities more questionable businessmen, seeing as the child could move virtually anywhere in the city unseen they used him as a courier and guide as some people could get by down in those dark tunnels, but non people were astonished how he moved through with out using markings to find his way, he simply knew where he was going. As he grew older he was never the strongest, he relied on his seeped, agility, grace, and most importantly cunning and guile. Though living among humans he lacked some of the more, flawed personality traits of his people. Namely their cruelty and disdain for the other races, But there was one thing that he craved like all of his kind and that was power. He grew tired of taking scraps from criminal world as they would never treat him as an equal. Even if he were to kill his way up the latter few would fallow the Drow orphan, so he decided that he would leave this town and go somewhere he could attain standing and recognition, and become strong. Though he didn't have to wait long, soon Dragoons where in the city, recruiting and he got an idea. He stole from them, but let them know. They chased him through the city as he kept disappearing, only to reappear. He was still a child and could never beat them in a fight. But he also knew they would only use there artes to capture him and not harm him giving him a slight advantage. He kept doing this, disappearing under the city, showing back up and stealing something then hiding. Finally after hours of cat and mouse he approached them with everything he had stolen with a grin on his face. "I am great, make me legendary." he said as that drew a laugh from them as they had to admit for the better part of a day this child had them running around like fools. So they recruited him, they told him he had to give up his life of thievery but this was something he was fine with for as a dragoon he wouldn't have to rely on such things to survive and with the skills and power he attained through the academy nobody would ever look down on him again. His entrance into the academy was something he expected, disdain and mistrust for what he was. Though he expected that and ignored it as these people were pawns for him and the academy simply a tool. So he ignored the others and focused on training. He worked hard, honing his skills and as time went on he was steadily accepted. People looking beyond a Drow and seeing him for the skilled warrior he was becoming. As well as a trusted ally. though he originally planned on using the academy to gain skill and power and would be rid of them as soon as he no longer had need of them, that soon changed. People trusted him, respected him. These were wholly new things to him, before long he found him self laughing alongside his classmates, training with them and working in a group with them. He had finally found somewhere he fit it and was happy. Dragonartes: Sadistic crown, Zephyr Dash Weapon(s): linked crescent blades Made of mithral so they are light, with a mithral chain connecting them together and mithral handle in the middle that holds the chain inside allowing him to adjust the length, The chain itself is 15ft long and chain remains locked in place until he squeezes one of two levers,one for each side, which allows him to feed it out either side as well as slide the handle down or up the chain. Squeezing the outsides of hose levers causes them to retract/) one on the outside of each boot.) Roleplaying Sample: Antafien awoke in the night where he rested high in a tree. The feint sound of some one screaming rang in his ear a he rolled falling from that branch dropping to the ground below. Soon he was off running through the forest with great speed as trees passed by he had to kick left and right to avoid them. He drew closer to the source of the scream and slowed down walking onto the road. There was a horse drawn carriage, a merchant's from the look of it. His red eyes survayed the scene, a woman was off the the side on her knees holding a man, bleeding on his shoulder as she was crying. The bandits were busy ransacking there lively hood. "And here I thought I would get a nice nights rest for once" His voice elegant to a degree as the bandits took note of the drow turning around looking at him. "This ain't got nothin to do with yea Drow. Now scamper back to yea hole" one particularly ugly bandit with a bad case of mouth rot said. "I will take it you are the leader, yes you are the ugliest so that must who you are." "Wot yea say red eyes! Fine then well leave yea for cairron." Just then Antafien lips curled up in that devilish grin of his. "Oh big ward for you, I feel almost proud" he said as the first came at him, swinging a sword as Ant jumped back landing and reaching up the back of his coat and pulling out his weapon, Merdrol, "I would like to you meet my....partner if you will Merdrol." He said as the they came at him again. In its travel state both blades were tight against that metal handle looking more like a short staff as he spun the blade and gripped it in both hands, lifting the right side up he knocked a sword back before dipping and bring the left across in a swipe, the mithral blade sliced through the mans leather armor and cut through flesh leaving the mans insides to become his out as he fell clutching his spilled innards. Though quickly another man yelled swipping down as he quickly brought the right end back up catching the sword between the twin blades as he kicked the man in the sternum sending him tumbling back. Still grining a man lashed out with a spear using it to keep a distance thrusting it forward as Ant jumped back, twisting to void the point of this mans statement. He brought his own weapon up bringing it down so the spear was in the center and with a twist the wooden neck broke "Oh dear me I have seemed to broken your toy, here let me share mine" he said squeezing on the left lever and pulling up as the blade stayed down and the chain fell out while before he let go of the lever and jerked the blade up. Catching it he quickly tossed it as it speared into his chest and Ant yanked back pulling the blade back to himself catching it, He swapped hands, holding the side still on the staff in his left and gripping the other by the center handle in his left ."two down" he stated looking at the remaining three. The crossed eyes with eachother as Ant stood there, twirling axe like weapon in his left hand and holding the other in his right. "well now, if you don't want to make the first move. I will" he stated as he activated his dragonarte "Zypher dash" they blinked and he was behind the man closest to him, blood dripping from the axe like blade as the man coughed once before his body fell over and his head rolled "three" he said as in another instant he was moving again. He let his left blade go whipping it as he held the the lever and the chain was released and it curved, hitting the man in the side digging into his body half way as the sword in his right hand punged into the bandit leaders chest as he stood before him. All this happened in a manor of moments as he looked at the leader "Four, and five" he said pulling the sword out slowly letting him drop to the ground. "Well that was rather boring" he said before losing his balance, His since of up and down altered as he swayed some feeling like he was going to puke as he couldn't orientate himself. Though after a few moments it passed as he shook his head, his pure white hair shaking a bit and he pulled the sword from the fourth Bandit laying on the ground. Squeezing the outside of those levers the two blades retracted back into the handle as he spun it some looking over to the couple. "Don't hurt us please, take anything you want" she said looking at him like she was more afraid of him then the bandits. "I have no desire to harm you or steal from you." he stated as he tossed some bandages at the couple "wrap up his wound and your should be fine, it doesn't look fatal" he said as he turned and started walking down his road to make his way back to the academy. "Try to have a nice relaxing weekend camping and this happens. I swear.." he said to him self as he walked pulling out a rag and cleaning off his blade.
52,703	1,430	13	375	33	Bram didn't quite understand why Edun thought himself in charge, but now wasn't the time to be arguing over who was now in charge. He took off down the hallway close behind Edun, making sure to ready his weapons in case of emergency. The echoing chambers of the main hallway made the clanking of two sets of armor seem like an army was marching through Shattermane. Edun and Bram weren’t too far down the corridor before the Drow, Antafien, had caught up to them. So what is the plan then , words Bram could barely make out over the vast sound of the colliding armors. “The plan is simple; we head for the veteran quarters and try to find out why we haven’t seen any of seniors yet. It’s not like they could have slept through something of this magnitude.” The triad reached the entrance to the academy’s senior barracks no longer than it took Bram to finish his previous statements. In the quarters there were two side hallways, each leading to personal rooms for the elder Dragoons. Before the two hallways split however; there were two massive oaken doors that loomed forebodingly, marking the dining hall by the veteran's quarters. The creaking of the hinges set a very haunting tone for the entire quarter, Something isn't right here, it feels far too calm. “I’ll search the dining hall, you two can take the east and west wing. I think something has gone terribly wrong here, the calm is killing me.” Bram sprinted into the dining hall. It was quiet for the dining hall; usually the hustle and bustle of the kitchens gave a slight clamor and jolly feeling in the old eatery. There wasn't a slight hint of any food being prepared at all actually. Bram looked into the kitchen to find it empty. Now that is odd. A muffled cough came from the backside of the kitchen. Bram quickly ran over to investigate. Lying on the floor in the back corner was Thorundir, an elderly dwarf and Dragoon. Thorundir was probably the eldest of the dwarven Dragoons, he had served Shattermane for more than most humans entire life span. “Thorundir! What has happened to you?” Bram noticed a very similar singed smell to when Lucia had struck Edun back. Thorundir had a large burn mark right where his heart was. The wound seemed beyond recovery, Thorundir’s time was running short. “Lad, I was hoping one of you greenskins would be smart enough to come here during all the commotion outside. Listen, I’m not going to be here with you for much longer. Lucia has betrayed all of Airengard, she has poisoned and killed all the Dragoons that were stationed here just before the ceremony of your induction. I caught her murdering my brothers and tried to stop her, you see how well that went don’t you?” A heavy cough spilt blood from Thorundir’s throat. “Boy, you must stop her. There are many Dragoons still out posted in the other cities, go find them. Hopefully, they do not share my fate.” Thorundir’s eyes lost focus and a calming smile came to his face. The dwarf had left this world, and had given Bram a final task. “Rest peaceful my comrade, we will make sure no harm come to this land for your sake.” Bram found Thorundir’s hammer off to the side of the room, he took it to the late Dragoon and laid it across his chest. “May your ancestors welcome you with open arms and heart.” Bram left to find Antafien and Edun out in the hallways. I hope their luck is better than mine.	Name: Brammir Ravenbrow Age: 27 Race: Human Hometown: Vaneel Biography: Bram grew up in a decently well off family in Vaneel. He spent most of his time outside the mine that his father owned and managed just to the north of Vaneel. There he diligently practiced with his Rope Dart to the point of being able to hit bottle sized objects out of the sky with it. He was practicing one day as usual outside of the mine when a convoy of Dragoons came to Vaneel to scout out some fresh recruits. He had heard about the Dragoons of course, but never really considered joining them until he saw Lucia in action. There had been a small cave in at the mine that day trapping several of the workers, including his father. Lucia quickly blew the rubble away with a swift punch that seemed to glow brighter than the sun. Bram was in awe; was this the power that the Dragoons could attain? He approached Lucia in the bar near where the Dragoon camp was stationed in Vaneel, asking her if there were any recruit spots left open. She demanded that he show some sort of skill or he would just be wasting both of their time. Bram took a mug of mead from the nearest table and threw it across the room, quickly unwrapping the Rope Dart from his belt then catapulting it from his side to pin the mug by the handle to the wall. He looked back over to Lucia to see what she had to say, she merely nodded in approvable. The rest is history. Dragonartes: Sadistic Crown, Esper Blessing Weapon(s): Roleplaying Sample: LOL no. (I'll actually be working on this so that everyone can get a feel for how I write, since I am not apart of any other RPs at the moment for anyone to check me out on.) edit: changed appearance to more accurately describe character
52,704	1,430	14	703	194	Edun and Bram hurtled down the hall, attempting to locate the elders. The halls were unnaturally quiet today. It was very unlike Shattermane to remain silent. As they paused at the end of the hall the Drow had pulled even with them. Edun gave him a curt nod. The human wasn’t particularly fond of elves, but this was no time to bring forth an argument over races. As Bram elaborated on the plan further Edun voiced his agreement. From there the trio had split in different directions. Eager to find the fate of the veterans Edun felt his pace increase. Upon reaching the large oak doors leading into the western wing, he took a moment to calm himself. What he saw next left him speechless. The west wing was in shambles. A battle had clearly taken place. Edun’s heart began to race. No.. He found himself thinking repeatedly as a lump formed in his throat. Armor was strewn everywhere, some ripped into pieces. Had he not been so used to battle, he imagined he would have spewed his breakfast onto the stone floor. Pinned to the wall by his own bastard sword was his mentor, a man that Edun had come to be quite fond of. “Loric…” Edun’s voice rang through the halls full of grief. The man was clearly dead, blood trailing down the wall forming into a puddle on the ground. The pool of gore was congealed, indicating that the man had been lifeless for a while. “Is anyone here?” Edun called out, but the only noise that returned was his own echoes. A sob escaped his lips, and the greenhorn dragoon was overwhelmed in his own sorrow. He walked the halls of the quarters finding evidence of more struggles. Some were killed in their own beds, while others were clearly trying to flee from Lucia. That bitch. She killed my mentor. She killed the elders. The moans of his mourning became quieter. Instead replaced with a burning anger. A rage that was being fueled by the deaths of his comrades. She will pay. I will make her pay. Turning his back on the struggle, he closed the door to the west wing once more. Their deaths would not be in vain. Without another backwards glance he returned to where the trio had departed. He wiped his face to rid himself of his tears. Of the evidence that he had a moment of weakness. The human was sure that Ant and Bram would discover the same fates of their companions in the rooms they had been charged with investigating. When he returned, he shook his head in Bram’s direction. “They clearly perished at the traitor’s hands.” Edun said bitterly. The brunette awaited Antafien's return with baited breath.	Name: Edun Sternstride Age: Twenty-five Race: Human Hometown: Landow Biography: The main reason that Edun joined Shattermane Academy is for the income it provides. His family has never been what you would call rich. His father was an able provider, but most of the time made only enough gold to barely make ends meet. Freshly instated dragoons bring in a fair sum of money. This was the major driving force in his decision. Due to his family residing in Landow, he is particularly good at haggling with merchants over the price of items. When asked to prove his worth to the dragoons he had drawn his short bow, and fired an arrow into a nearby target. This isn't what impressed his recruiter. It was when he drew another arrow and then split the first with it that he confirmed his entry into Shattermane Academy. Edun is not the most studious man, and struggled to stay on top of the heavy course load. Several times he was sure that he wouldn’t make it, but through perseverance he has reached graduation day. He excels in combat, but is not the best tactician. Due to this he is prone to make rash mistakes when on the battlefield. This is the reason that he chose Drakkenhide as one of his Dragonartes, as it can protect him if he fails to judge the situation correctly. Edun prefers to use blunt weapons for close combat, and his second ability reflects that. He tends to wear a heavy set of armor to protect him from the brunt of damage, enabling him the durability to activate Zealot's Revenge. This allows the man to deal heavy amounts of damage that could bring down even the strongest of enemies in a single blow. Dragonartes: Drakkenhide Zealot’s Revenge Weapon: Roleplaying Sample: I’m the GM, nuff said.
52,705	1,430	15	2,744	3,242	Although Dorrin was a little indignant at being given orders from Idun since he didn't remember the human being appointed leader, he still did as he was told and went to help the people panicking about the city. Several people had been killed from being trampled by the crowds of fleeing citizens, and Dorrin needed to work quickly before anymore people would be killed in the chaos. It was a hard task getting people to listen to him while they were in a panic since he was a dwarf and they were humans who were taller than him. Not to mention the damage that some of the dragons had done to some of the buildings during their climatic entrance. Several houses were on fire and Dorrin knew that he had to check those first since there could be innocent people trapped inside. Since some of the houses had doors that had been blocked by mounds of rubble, Dorrin had to use his Skyfall ability to jump up to the upper levels of the homes were the windows weren't blocked off. He smashed through the window and into the home, landing not very gracefully on the carpet floor. He looked around and found it hard to see because of the thick smoke that everywhere. Dorrin needed to look fast before the smoke completely cut off his air supply inside the house and suffocate. The dwarf hoped the owners of this house if they were still inside, were not dead from the smoke. He eventually found them, and saw that they were a family of five. Dorrin wasted no time with explaining to them who he was and that he was a Dragoon who had graduated from the academy. Right now he needed to get them out of the house. First he grabbed two of the children and ran straight for the window he smashed through. He heard the parents give a cry of alarm and tried to stop him. But luckily dwarfs were very fast sprinters, and Dorrin outran them and leaped out of the window. Despite the children being very young, he was still only several inches taller than them and a fall from this height could severely injure them. So Dorrin spun in the air to have his back facing the ground and the children above his chest. He slammed into the ground a good amount of force, but his armor had helped protect him from any serious injuries, it still hurt. The children were not harmed, and Dorrin quickly jumped back into the burning to get the third child, followed by the parents one at a time. After he was done with that, Dorrin was quite sore and his limbs ached from falling from a building several times. But he still had a duty to complete, and he quickly moved on to help the other citizens of Estar.	Name: Dorrin Binorix Age: 24 Race: Dwarf Hometown: Vaneel Biography: being born to a middle class family of dwarfs living in Vaneel, opportunities didn't come along that much in Dorrin's life. for most of his childhood, he never really had much and spent a good amount of his time learning the arts of crafting metals with his father, which was what there people were known for. at first he enjoyed doing work in crafting weapons and other forms of metal, but there soon came a time when he felt like he wanted do something more with his life. even though it seemed like he was only going to be a part of his father's work, his chance to do something different, came not too long after he had understood his desire to try something new. he decided to join Shattermane Academy, and learn to become a legendary Dragoon. Dragonartes: Skyfall – The user ascends into the air, and collapses on a target from a high distance. Leaves the user open to aerial attacks. Scalding Palm – The user channels volcanic heat into their next physical blow. Explodes on impact causing scorches and recoil damage. Weapon(s): He usually ether uses two maces or just one. they are named Gullnin and Hanor. the maces are made out of a very rare form of metal known as dragon steel, which is said to be forged from the scales of dragons and mixed with the metal of steel to create a type of steel that is very powerful and great for weapons. Roleplaying Sample: The ground shook as the dragon landed with a loud thud, about fifteen feet away from Dorrin, and the dwarf knew what was coming next. The large creature gave a roar and shot a jet of flames out its mouth, straight towards him. Dorrin used the Dragonarte ability known as Skyfall to jump incredibly high into the air above the burning inferno, and he had his twin maces in his hands, ready to strike. He came down on top of the dragon with a powerful blow to its head. His maces made contact with the dragon's head and the blow hit it with a great amount of force. Dorrin then tried to keep balance on top of the beast's head so that he could land more blows to the dragon. While he tried as hard as he could remain on the beast's head, Dorrin attempted to clobber the dragon's skull and tried to bring it down with his blows. He hoped that this was giving his companions time to figure out a way to successfully defeat the monster. Dorrin was not able to hold onto the dragon's head for very long thanks to the beast thrashing about from his blows, and was eventually flung off with great force towards the rocky ground. He hit the ground with a good amount of force and was dazed for a couple of seconds. In those seconds the dragon had closed in on him and was preparing to bite down on Dorring when one of his comrades entered the fray by using his Zephyr Dash to move at great speed and pulled him away from oncoming teeth, avoiding death by just a foot. Even though Dorrin wasn't a practitioner of the Zephyr Dash technique, he knew that the side effect of the ability was a bad case of vertigo and that wasn't a good thing to have in a dragon's lair with all the high stones and the large piles of gold. Once they got a good distance from the beast, Dorring told his comrade, "Thank you for saving my life, I could have been a dragon's meal if it wasn't for you/" "It was no problem, we are comrades and we most help each other if we want to succeed at killing the dragon. He had joined the Shattermane academy hoping to find adventure in his life and he had found it. Now all he was worried about was staying alive and slaying the dragon, he hoped that fortune would be in his favor with both of those goals.
52,706	1,430	16	309	452	As they ran down the halls Ant couldn't help but notice the quite with exception for the heavy armor of the other two, and his own light foot steps echoing through those halls. Turning his head to Bram he nodded as they soon were in the west wing. He turned to the east wing and left. Walking through he found nothing but death, bodies lain about in shambles as those red eyes looked over with a calm gaze. Stepping over bodies and around fallen debris it looked as if a true battle had taken place. His mind wandered to his fellow's who wished to give chase after Lucia so soon. These were some of there best, and now here they all lay in there own life blood, burnt, cut, and maimed. His ears twitched, hearing a feint sound as he walked, seeing a man crawling and barley alive. He approached him and got to a knee turning over as a very familiar face looked up at him with eyes fading of life, coughing up blood it smiled "Antafien, I see you are a live then" he said as the Drow looked at him "As you lay dieing, old man" he replied as that old man smiled "the old die, it's what we do" he stated coughing up more blood. Ant pulled out his dagger, "I can't keep my promise I made, I am sorry" Said the old man as that dagger slipped between his ribs and pierced his heart, ending his suffering as he took a last breath before the life left him and he was still. Antafien closed the eyes of the dead man before standing up cleaning his dagger, those words he spoke as a child to the man that old man who recruited him echoed in his mind "I am great, make me a legend" he spoke softly as he turned his looking further down the hall. All that remained here are ghost of the past, as he looked down a the bodies and rubble, it almost reminded him of the tunnels he used to run through back in Veneel manly that they were in Ruin and with the constant smell of death. He had seen all that he needed two as he put his blade back into it's hiding place. He appeared to be the last to arrive at where they split as he looked to Bram and Edun. "Nothing but death and ruin remain in these halls, let use leave these ghost to their rest" he stated as he didn't wait and turned walking back towards the entrance of the academy. The Drow's face as as calm as ever, as if he had seen nothing and was simply walking through a park, though an old saying of his people entered his mind, "Hate is a dagger--best when hidden and deadliest when precise." He was not overly fond of his own kind, but they did have there own twisted wisdom.	Name: Antafien Avury'lyl Age: 26 Race: Drow. Hometown: Vaneel Biography: An orphan in Vaneel he grew up around humans and knew few of his own kind, as they are rare among the other races preferring to keep to themselves in there underground cities. The only thing he had of his parents was a weapon his father left him, though he kept it hidden as it was a rare Drow weapon and despite being able to fetch a high price he didn't want to lose the only connection to his parents. Becasue of his alienation from others he found solace in the underground labyrinth, and explored them often. Though his became his greatest strength living on the streets as he soon could navigate that labyrinth with ease. He would pop out, steal something and quickly slip away in one of the many openings through out the city. This however caught the eye of the cities more questionable businessmen, seeing as the child could move virtually anywhere in the city unseen they used him as a courier and guide as some people could get by down in those dark tunnels, but non people were astonished how he moved through with out using markings to find his way, he simply knew where he was going. As he grew older he was never the strongest, he relied on his seeped, agility, grace, and most importantly cunning and guile. Though living among humans he lacked some of the more, flawed personality traits of his people. Namely their cruelty and disdain for the other races, But there was one thing that he craved like all of his kind and that was power. He grew tired of taking scraps from criminal world as they would never treat him as an equal. Even if he were to kill his way up the latter few would fallow the Drow orphan, so he decided that he would leave this town and go somewhere he could attain standing and recognition, and become strong. Though he didn't have to wait long, soon Dragoons where in the city, recruiting and he got an idea. He stole from them, but let them know. They chased him through the city as he kept disappearing, only to reappear. He was still a child and could never beat them in a fight. But he also knew they would only use there artes to capture him and not harm him giving him a slight advantage. He kept doing this, disappearing under the city, showing back up and stealing something then hiding. Finally after hours of cat and mouse he approached them with everything he had stolen with a grin on his face. "I am great, make me legendary." he said as that drew a laugh from them as they had to admit for the better part of a day this child had them running around like fools. So they recruited him, they told him he had to give up his life of thievery but this was something he was fine with for as a dragoon he wouldn't have to rely on such things to survive and with the skills and power he attained through the academy nobody would ever look down on him again. His entrance into the academy was something he expected, disdain and mistrust for what he was. Though he expected that and ignored it as these people were pawns for him and the academy simply a tool. So he ignored the others and focused on training. He worked hard, honing his skills and as time went on he was steadily accepted. People looking beyond a Drow and seeing him for the skilled warrior he was becoming. As well as a trusted ally. though he originally planned on using the academy to gain skill and power and would be rid of them as soon as he no longer had need of them, that soon changed. People trusted him, respected him. These were wholly new things to him, before long he found him self laughing alongside his classmates, training with them and working in a group with them. He had finally found somewhere he fit it and was happy. Dragonartes: Sadistic crown, Zephyr Dash Weapon(s): linked crescent blades Made of mithral so they are light, with a mithral chain connecting them together and mithral handle in the middle that holds the chain inside allowing him to adjust the length, The chain itself is 15ft long and chain remains locked in place until he squeezes one of two levers,one for each side, which allows him to feed it out either side as well as slide the handle down or up the chain. Squeezing the outsides of hose levers causes them to retract/) one on the outside of each boot.) Roleplaying Sample: Antafien awoke in the night where he rested high in a tree. The feint sound of some one screaming rang in his ear a he rolled falling from that branch dropping to the ground below. Soon he was off running through the forest with great speed as trees passed by he had to kick left and right to avoid them. He drew closer to the source of the scream and slowed down walking onto the road. There was a horse drawn carriage, a merchant's from the look of it. His red eyes survayed the scene, a woman was off the the side on her knees holding a man, bleeding on his shoulder as she was crying. The bandits were busy ransacking there lively hood. "And here I thought I would get a nice nights rest for once" His voice elegant to a degree as the bandits took note of the drow turning around looking at him. "This ain't got nothin to do with yea Drow. Now scamper back to yea hole" one particularly ugly bandit with a bad case of mouth rot said. "I will take it you are the leader, yes you are the ugliest so that must who you are." "Wot yea say red eyes! Fine then well leave yea for cairron." Just then Antafien lips curled up in that devilish grin of his. "Oh big ward for you, I feel almost proud" he said as the first came at him, swinging a sword as Ant jumped back landing and reaching up the back of his coat and pulling out his weapon, Merdrol, "I would like to you meet my....partner if you will Merdrol." He said as the they came at him again. In its travel state both blades were tight against that metal handle looking more like a short staff as he spun the blade and gripped it in both hands, lifting the right side up he knocked a sword back before dipping and bring the left across in a swipe, the mithral blade sliced through the mans leather armor and cut through flesh leaving the mans insides to become his out as he fell clutching his spilled innards. Though quickly another man yelled swipping down as he quickly brought the right end back up catching the sword between the twin blades as he kicked the man in the sternum sending him tumbling back. Still grining a man lashed out with a spear using it to keep a distance thrusting it forward as Ant jumped back, twisting to void the point of this mans statement. He brought his own weapon up bringing it down so the spear was in the center and with a twist the wooden neck broke "Oh dear me I have seemed to broken your toy, here let me share mine" he said squeezing on the left lever and pulling up as the blade stayed down and the chain fell out while before he let go of the lever and jerked the blade up. Catching it he quickly tossed it as it speared into his chest and Ant yanked back pulling the blade back to himself catching it, He swapped hands, holding the side still on the staff in his left and gripping the other by the center handle in his left ."two down" he stated looking at the remaining three. The crossed eyes with eachother as Ant stood there, twirling axe like weapon in his left hand and holding the other in his right. "well now, if you don't want to make the first move. I will" he stated as he activated his dragonarte "Zypher dash" they blinked and he was behind the man closest to him, blood dripping from the axe like blade as the man coughed once before his body fell over and his head rolled "three" he said as in another instant he was moving again. He let his left blade go whipping it as he held the the lever and the chain was released and it curved, hitting the man in the side digging into his body half way as the sword in his right hand punged into the bandit leaders chest as he stood before him. All this happened in a manor of moments as he looked at the leader "Four, and five" he said pulling the sword out slowly letting him drop to the ground. "Well that was rather boring" he said before losing his balance, His since of up and down altered as he swayed some feeling like he was going to puke as he couldn't orientate himself. Though after a few moments it passed as he shook his head, his pure white hair shaking a bit and he pulled the sword from the fourth Bandit laying on the ground. Squeezing the outside of those levers the two blades retracted back into the handle as he spun it some looking over to the couple. "Don't hurt us please, take anything you want" she said looking at him like she was more afraid of him then the bandits. "I have no desire to harm you or steal from you." he stated as he tossed some bandages at the couple "wrap up his wound and your should be fine, it doesn't look fatal" he said as he turned and started walking down his road to make his way back to the academy. "Try to have a nice relaxing weekend camping and this happens. I swear.." he said to him self as he walked pulling out a rag and cleaning off his blade.
52,707	1,430	17	397	1,659	Sighing, Kain ran after Edun and Bram 'I know we've all graduated and all, but we've only just graduated. Even though we're all officially dragoons now, I still think we're in way over our heads. I should probably follow them, who know's what else could happen today.' As Kain ran through the west wing, he could smell a strange burning stench. His first whiff of it nearly made him chock, it was just that bad. Taking a few seconds to gather himself and adjust to the smell, he continued searching the west wing for the two other dragoons As he ran through the ruins, his mind started to wander. He recalled, very vividly, various memories he had made here. So many familiar places and things, marred by the dragon's wrath. Then there were the bodies. Some he could vaguely recall, others were complete strangers to him 'this is madness. Pure and utter madness' he began to seethe with rage. 'No! Remember what dad said. Keep yourself calm. Anger makes you stupid' he corrected himself, starting to calm down Finally, he came across the other two boys. "There you two are! We shouldn't just be blindly running around now. We need to get-" he was stopped by the bodies he saw "...are......are those the elders? Did...did they all die? How?" His voice began to warble "this...this is worse then I could have imagined. For the elders themselves to die. How could this have happened right under out noses?" Kain was now ever more worried then before. For the elders to be dead at the beginning of...whatever this was, was clearly a bad omen	Name: Kain Highwind Age: 21 Race: Human Hometown: Vaneel Biography: Son of retired Dragoon Cid Highwind, Kain had planed to become one at a young age. Despite having such a lofty goal, his life was relatively normal until her enrolled in the academy. While having a dad with all the right connections helped him get in, he didn't want to coast through the academy merely on his dad's name. He wanted to make a name for himself. Because of this, he poured himself into his training, believing that he had to prove the he belonged their on his own merits, and not just because of who's son he was Dragonartes: Skyfall Skywalk Weapon(s): The family spear. Gae Bolg's spear head is made out of mithrial, making it lighter and stronger the steel Roleplaying Sample: 'So that's a dragon, huh? Odd, I'd thought they be...bigger' Kain mused as he watched his prey; a large red dragon, sleeping in the ruins of a recently destroyed village. 'Oh well. Little or not, this thing is still a monster, and it needs to be brought down.' Drawing the weapon of his ancestors; Gae Bolg, he took a quick stock of the situation 'ideally, I could just end this with the first strike, but I doubt that it's really going to be that easy. Even if it's asleep. Oh well, guess I'll just have to play it by ear, hope everything works out' Leaping high into the sky, he aimed himself so that he would land spear first into the monster's head. However, it was not to be. As he began his decent, the dragon awoke and spotted him in the air 'yep...I called it' Kain mentally deadpanned. As Kain was hurtling down towards the dragon, the beast let out a stream of fire from it's mouth to intercept him. Moving quickly, Kain began running forward in midair, halting his rapid decent and moving him out of the, literal, line of fire. Landing safely in front of the dragon, he turned around to address it "I know this is probably a stupid question, but are we going to have to do this the easy way...or the hard way?" His answer came in the form of a loud roar "yep...I called it" he said with a smirk on his face
52,708	1,430	18	1,445	4,058	Unsure of how long time had passed, Ralthavar was at least able to get all the children's parents found, or left in the care of those who would look after them. Most of the people had calmed down now, and found their ways home themselves. Ralthavar led two more people back home personally; his parents. They had helped others in what ways they could before their son asked them to return home. It was mostly quiet on the way back aside from Ralthavar's mother asking him to help some of the others with mundane tasks such as carrying something for them, which he did diligently. It wasn't until they reached home that his father spoke. He asked Ralthavar if he knew what had happened, what Lucia was planning on doing, or simply what she had done. "She has summoned dragons back into this realm, father... The world will be more dangerous that it has before. And it is my duty to protect this world, and stop the dragons. And her as well. I could not imagine that this was how it would be done, but I am a dragoon now. There is nothing that will stop me." Ralthavar spent some time at home with his parents, mostly final goodbyes. Though they tried to maintain their emotions during the cerimony, in privacy tears were shed. They were orcs, strong and proud people, but they were also parents who worried about their son, despite evidence that he would be well. There as one parting gift from Ralthavar's mother that he was required to talk: Her mother's battleaxe, which she has used since the day she left home. She's never slain a dragon with it, but it was more solid than a mountain, and could cleave through bones as though they were twigs. He felt it's weight on his arms, naturally swinging it through the air. One final hug from his parents were all that was given before they allowed him to leave, His battleaxe strapped to his back. Ralthavar returned to Shattermane to find the others. Surely now they would have found the elders, living or dead. They were going to need a plan of action, since they no longer had the chance to follow Lucia. He had walked in just as Kain asked in exasperation how all the elders died, Ralthavar had only one answer. "Complacency. We should consider ourselves fortunate that we did not share the fates of our masters."	Name: Ralthavar Vorinclex Age: 23 Race: Orc (But he keeps this a secret) Hometown: Estar Biography: Ralthavar's life was fairly steady, but not without it's share of hardships. His parents were skilled artisans, his father a stone mason while his mother had a knack with herbal remedies. But not all was easy, mostly due to their race. Being orcs brought fear and hatred on them. Unlike most, however, they didn't fight. At least his parents didn't; they knew the ramifications of what would happen when they moved to Estar, but were determined to see it through. Ralthavar was, at first, fairly violent when met with confrontation. He was quick to resort to violence, and when it came to fighting he was always larger and stronger than most of his enemies. But soon he learned that if he continued to follow this path, enemies will be his only company; any potential friends were driven away out of fear or spite. He needed to find a new way to deal with his enemies that didn't involve crushing their hands with rocks. He had to become friendly. When he was a young teenager, Ralthavar began to live a life of discipline. To control himself so that he does not let his fury take over him. So that he knew not to speak the truth when the truth would cause pain, but not to lie for the sake of others. Slowly, he was gaining acceptance. He entered Shattermane Academy as soon as possible, quickly making new friends with his calmer attitude. He was given the name "Shield Brother" for his friendliness with his allies and his ability with a shield. Life went on, with it's ups and downs. While Ralthavar learned to control himself, it never stopped the pain and the hatred that would build. He kept things bottled, kept it quiet, out of sight, and continued to create a facade of a personable and collective orc. Which he was... But he was also hiding his inner turmoil. There were times were he would crack, and some of his anger would come out. Those times he feared the worse, and struggles to maintain himself. Ralthavar was able to graduate Shattermane Academy with some honors, but the turmoil never stopped. Problems always arose; fools who would harm his friends, enemies who would try to harm him. He dealt with them the best he could, but everyday he struggles against himself to not let loose his true feelings. Anger born of regret, anger born of worry, or simply a unexplainable rage brought about from a mix of things. All the while Ralthavar continues to keep up his stoic demeanor, and will continue to do so until he'll finally explode. Dragonartes: Dragon's Wrath Skyfall Weapon(s): The Claw - A weapon designed by Ralthavar's father when he entered Shattermane. The Claw can function much like a normal one, to slash or tear apart his enemies, but a unique trait of the weapon is that it's retractable chain. The Claw can be shot out at great force, strong enough to penetrate solid stone, and can maintain a powerful grip, one strong enough to hold not only Ralthavar, but just about anyone else he's holding onto to. The Claw's grip can be turned on his enemies as well, as it can crush through bones and metal as though it was made of glass. However, The Claw suffers from a limited dexterity; it has only three "Fingers" that, while able to twist and turn as need be, lack the sensitivity and over all flexibility for complicated handling. Ralthavar's Wall - An absolutely huge shield the size of a door, but several times thicker and much, much harder. Made from a skull-plate shard of an ancient dead dragon, Ralthavar came across it when he and a group of his fellows were sent to investigate an alleged "Dragon Graveyard". They found one dragon, the shards of it's bones used as grave markers, but that aside no more than just the one. They tried to take some pieces back to make into weapons, but many of the smiths found that the dragon bone was much too hard to work with. But that didn't stop Ralthavar. He spent three months and over a hundred chisels and hammers to make a few holes into the dragon bone. Once they were large enough, he looped a chain through the holes and turned the neigh-indestructible bone piece into a mighty shield. The shield itself weighs in at around thirty pounds alone, though Ralthavar can wield it well enough to use it to bash, batter, crush, and smash it into enemies. Roleplaying Sample: Unmoving even to the claws of the dragons, Ralthavar stood his ground as the giant beast tried to knock him away. But he refused to do so. He was the only one who could stand before the dragon; his allies too injured, or busy escorting the villagers to safety. The dragon took the skies in an attempt to by pass the stubborn orc, but he would not allow it. Aiming his Claw at the beast, the three-prong weapon broke through the dragon's sage and dug into it's flesh. The beast made a mighty roar that deafen Ralthavar, but he did not falter. He caused the chain to retract, pulling him towards the dragon as it flew away. His tailed swung widely, knowing that Ralthavar was going to try to born it. He was hit, but he did not slow down. His armor protected him from a large brunt of the damage. When the dragon swung it's tail again, Raltavar released his claw and shot it at the tail, latching onto it. Soon Ralthavar had his feet firmly planted onto the dragon's tail, and now he had to make the treacherous march up it's back. The dragon, who had thought Ralthavar had fell to his doom, calmed his flight as he searched the earth for the prey. Meanwhile Ralthavar was making his way up the dragon's back, slowed down only by the force of the wind and his attempts to keep stability. Time went on, and for Ralthavar it felt like hours. The dragon made sharp turns, dives, and sometimes would fly upside down, but not matter when it did Ralthavar stayed on. Upon reaching the middle back, Ralthavar made a running dash. He knew the dragon had found his allies, and he knew that if he did not do something the dragon would burn his friends and innocents in a blaze of fire. He shot his claw out once more, and the blades sung themselves into the neck of the beast. The dragon roared, and now knew of his presence. He flew more erratically, doing spins and sudden stops to loose the orc, but it's attempts were in vain. Soon Ralthavar reached to dragon's head, and now it was time for their final battle. The dragon landed onto the ground and attempted to grab Ralthavar, but it's claws were knocked away with a swipe of Ralthavar's shield. He had to move quickly now. Wasting no more time, Ralthavar used his Dragonartes "Skyfall" to fly into the air, right next to the dragon's eye. He didn't even get a chance to blink before Ralthavar drove his Claw into the dragon's eye, clutching it's cornea in his powerful Claw. He pulled it out, causing a gush of blood and eye fluids to erupted, as he slammed his Wall into the remaining bits of the dragon's eye. It cause the beast no end of pain and tried to knock Ralthavar off, to crush it against it's massive claw, but Ralthavar was too quick for the dragon. He dodged the dragon's blows, and when the dragon flung it's head up, Ralthavar went to the skies. He had not yet defeated the beast, but now he would preform the coup de grace. Channeling the power within himself, Ralthavar activated his other Dragonartes " Dragon's Wrath" unto his Claw. His weapon glowed with an awesome power as he threw his claw down into the dragon's skull. The Claw broke through the monster's skull plate, digging into it's brain. But this was not the deathblow. No, it was when Ralthavar put his wall in front of him, and began his decent. His mass combined with the speed of his fall as well as his heavy weight turned him into something akin to a meteor as he crushed the dragon's skull with his Wall and his body. The very force of his fall was great enough to send the dragon's head strait towards the ground and form a crater. The dust began to settled. The villagers came to investigate, while Ralthavar's allies prepared themselves for another battle. But from the smoke came out a figure: Ralthavar, his armor stained with blood and gore. None of it his own however. When the dust cleared the villagers and his allies would see the corpse of the dragon, it's head destroyed. Ralthavar said nothing as he walked pasted the others, and motioned them to continue onwards towards the next town.
52,709	1,430	19	703	194	With the grief of the loss of the elders fresh on his mind, Edun reached the same enormous oak doors that the group had entered previously. As he, Bram, Ant, and Kain all arrived at the footsteps of the academy, a roar erupted that shook the very foundation of the city. All thoughts of the perished were pushed from his mind, which was now occupied by the echo of the rumble. The question of the creator was quite obvious as a massive shadow eclipsed the sun. Edun gave a startled cry as he leapt from the stairway to the street below. Above them a dragon hovered, its scaly hide reflecting the rays of light. The serpent crashed onto the slates of Shattermane, collapsing part of the roof in with its razor sharp talons. Mortals, it began with a piercing scream into the minds of all that surrounded the area. I am Razeth the Clever, consider the denizens of this expanse under my rule from henceforth. Subject yourselves lest you be destroyed. Razeth snarled with malicious intent. A molten jet of flame erupted from Razeth’s snout, leaving the strong smell of sulfur in its wake. Despite the pain resonating in his head, Edun retorted by unshouldering the yew bow entrusted to him by his parents. He docked an arrow with a loud sneer. “I serve no beast!” He bellowed in response, releasing the projectile which produced a whistling noise as it tore through the air. Razeth scoffed as he discharged another spout of fire, incinerating the arrow. Then die like one. It snarled in response, rising in the air with leathery wings. As if to prove a point, Razeth crashed into the rooftop leaving the school in shambles. Shattermane was no more. Edun silently counted the group’s blessing that they had escaped unscathed. Razeth’s talons clenched at the wreckage. Resistance is futile.	Name: Edun Sternstride Age: Twenty-five Race: Human Hometown: Landow Biography: The main reason that Edun joined Shattermane Academy is for the income it provides. His family has never been what you would call rich. His father was an able provider, but most of the time made only enough gold to barely make ends meet. Freshly instated dragoons bring in a fair sum of money. This was the major driving force in his decision. Due to his family residing in Landow, he is particularly good at haggling with merchants over the price of items. When asked to prove his worth to the dragoons he had drawn his short bow, and fired an arrow into a nearby target. This isn't what impressed his recruiter. It was when he drew another arrow and then split the first with it that he confirmed his entry into Shattermane Academy. Edun is not the most studious man, and struggled to stay on top of the heavy course load. Several times he was sure that he wouldn’t make it, but through perseverance he has reached graduation day. He excels in combat, but is not the best tactician. Due to this he is prone to make rash mistakes when on the battlefield. This is the reason that he chose Drakkenhide as one of his Dragonartes, as it can protect him if he fails to judge the situation correctly. Edun prefers to use blunt weapons for close combat, and his second ability reflects that. He tends to wear a heavy set of armor to protect him from the brunt of damage, enabling him the durability to activate Zealot's Revenge. This allows the man to deal heavy amounts of damage that could bring down even the strongest of enemies in a single blow. Dragonartes: Drakkenhide Zealot’s Revenge Weapon: Roleplaying Sample: I’m the GM, nuff said.
52,710	1,430	20	1,445	4,058	Suddenly, a large stone collided with the dragon's face. Actually, it was Ralthavar. With the force of a falling boulder he rammed into the dragon, bouncing off and using his Claw to grab onto a solid surface and reposition himself. The dragon, Razeth, seemed largely unaffected, though now he was looking at the orc. He stood tall towards the dragon, unwavering. Ralthavar said nothing as he put his shield forward, shooting his claw to the side to quickly get around the dragon. He was expecting an attack, but should the dragon decide to ignore him than he would leave himself open to an attack. This one would not escape them. He shot his Claw at the dragon's wings with the intention of getting onto him.	Name: Ralthavar Vorinclex Age: 23 Race: Orc (But he keeps this a secret) Hometown: Estar Biography: Ralthavar's life was fairly steady, but not without it's share of hardships. His parents were skilled artisans, his father a stone mason while his mother had a knack with herbal remedies. But not all was easy, mostly due to their race. Being orcs brought fear and hatred on them. Unlike most, however, they didn't fight. At least his parents didn't; they knew the ramifications of what would happen when they moved to Estar, but were determined to see it through. Ralthavar was, at first, fairly violent when met with confrontation. He was quick to resort to violence, and when it came to fighting he was always larger and stronger than most of his enemies. But soon he learned that if he continued to follow this path, enemies will be his only company; any potential friends were driven away out of fear or spite. He needed to find a new way to deal with his enemies that didn't involve crushing their hands with rocks. He had to become friendly. When he was a young teenager, Ralthavar began to live a life of discipline. To control himself so that he does not let his fury take over him. So that he knew not to speak the truth when the truth would cause pain, but not to lie for the sake of others. Slowly, he was gaining acceptance. He entered Shattermane Academy as soon as possible, quickly making new friends with his calmer attitude. He was given the name "Shield Brother" for his friendliness with his allies and his ability with a shield. Life went on, with it's ups and downs. While Ralthavar learned to control himself, it never stopped the pain and the hatred that would build. He kept things bottled, kept it quiet, out of sight, and continued to create a facade of a personable and collective orc. Which he was... But he was also hiding his inner turmoil. There were times were he would crack, and some of his anger would come out. Those times he feared the worse, and struggles to maintain himself. Ralthavar was able to graduate Shattermane Academy with some honors, but the turmoil never stopped. Problems always arose; fools who would harm his friends, enemies who would try to harm him. He dealt with them the best he could, but everyday he struggles against himself to not let loose his true feelings. Anger born of regret, anger born of worry, or simply a unexplainable rage brought about from a mix of things. All the while Ralthavar continues to keep up his stoic demeanor, and will continue to do so until he'll finally explode. Dragonartes: Dragon's Wrath Skyfall Weapon(s): The Claw - A weapon designed by Ralthavar's father when he entered Shattermane. The Claw can function much like a normal one, to slash or tear apart his enemies, but a unique trait of the weapon is that it's retractable chain. The Claw can be shot out at great force, strong enough to penetrate solid stone, and can maintain a powerful grip, one strong enough to hold not only Ralthavar, but just about anyone else he's holding onto to. The Claw's grip can be turned on his enemies as well, as it can crush through bones and metal as though it was made of glass. However, The Claw suffers from a limited dexterity; it has only three "Fingers" that, while able to twist and turn as need be, lack the sensitivity and over all flexibility for complicated handling. Ralthavar's Wall - An absolutely huge shield the size of a door, but several times thicker and much, much harder. Made from a skull-plate shard of an ancient dead dragon, Ralthavar came across it when he and a group of his fellows were sent to investigate an alleged "Dragon Graveyard". They found one dragon, the shards of it's bones used as grave markers, but that aside no more than just the one. They tried to take some pieces back to make into weapons, but many of the smiths found that the dragon bone was much too hard to work with. But that didn't stop Ralthavar. He spent three months and over a hundred chisels and hammers to make a few holes into the dragon bone. Once they were large enough, he looped a chain through the holes and turned the neigh-indestructible bone piece into a mighty shield. The shield itself weighs in at around thirty pounds alone, though Ralthavar can wield it well enough to use it to bash, batter, crush, and smash it into enemies. Roleplaying Sample: Unmoving even to the claws of the dragons, Ralthavar stood his ground as the giant beast tried to knock him away. But he refused to do so. He was the only one who could stand before the dragon; his allies too injured, or busy escorting the villagers to safety. The dragon took the skies in an attempt to by pass the stubborn orc, but he would not allow it. Aiming his Claw at the beast, the three-prong weapon broke through the dragon's sage and dug into it's flesh. The beast made a mighty roar that deafen Ralthavar, but he did not falter. He caused the chain to retract, pulling him towards the dragon as it flew away. His tailed swung widely, knowing that Ralthavar was going to try to born it. He was hit, but he did not slow down. His armor protected him from a large brunt of the damage. When the dragon swung it's tail again, Raltavar released his claw and shot it at the tail, latching onto it. Soon Ralthavar had his feet firmly planted onto the dragon's tail, and now he had to make the treacherous march up it's back. The dragon, who had thought Ralthavar had fell to his doom, calmed his flight as he searched the earth for the prey. Meanwhile Ralthavar was making his way up the dragon's back, slowed down only by the force of the wind and his attempts to keep stability. Time went on, and for Ralthavar it felt like hours. The dragon made sharp turns, dives, and sometimes would fly upside down, but not matter when it did Ralthavar stayed on. Upon reaching the middle back, Ralthavar made a running dash. He knew the dragon had found his allies, and he knew that if he did not do something the dragon would burn his friends and innocents in a blaze of fire. He shot his claw out once more, and the blades sung themselves into the neck of the beast. The dragon roared, and now knew of his presence. He flew more erratically, doing spins and sudden stops to loose the orc, but it's attempts were in vain. Soon Ralthavar reached to dragon's head, and now it was time for their final battle. The dragon landed onto the ground and attempted to grab Ralthavar, but it's claws were knocked away with a swipe of Ralthavar's shield. He had to move quickly now. Wasting no more time, Ralthavar used his Dragonartes "Skyfall" to fly into the air, right next to the dragon's eye. He didn't even get a chance to blink before Ralthavar drove his Claw into the dragon's eye, clutching it's cornea in his powerful Claw. He pulled it out, causing a gush of blood and eye fluids to erupted, as he slammed his Wall into the remaining bits of the dragon's eye. It cause the beast no end of pain and tried to knock Ralthavar off, to crush it against it's massive claw, but Ralthavar was too quick for the dragon. He dodged the dragon's blows, and when the dragon flung it's head up, Ralthavar went to the skies. He had not yet defeated the beast, but now he would preform the coup de grace. Channeling the power within himself, Ralthavar activated his other Dragonartes " Dragon's Wrath" unto his Claw. His weapon glowed with an awesome power as he threw his claw down into the dragon's skull. The Claw broke through the monster's skull plate, digging into it's brain. But this was not the deathblow. No, it was when Ralthavar put his wall in front of him, and began his decent. His mass combined with the speed of his fall as well as his heavy weight turned him into something akin to a meteor as he crushed the dragon's skull with his Wall and his body. The very force of his fall was great enough to send the dragon's head strait towards the ground and form a crater. The dust began to settled. The villagers came to investigate, while Ralthavar's allies prepared themselves for another battle. But from the smoke came out a figure: Ralthavar, his armor stained with blood and gore. None of it his own however. When the dust cleared the villagers and his allies would see the corpse of the dragon, it's head destroyed. Ralthavar said nothing as he walked pasted the others, and motioned them to continue onwards towards the next town.
52,711	1,431	0	594	288	Amy looked around at the tall buildings as she stepped towards the front door of the main building of her brand new school. She was a transfer student from out of town as well as a freshman. She carefully examined her class schedule as she tried to navigate where her first class would be. Kids rushing by talking to class mates, everything was confusing and she was in a daze. She couldn't wait for lunch however, she heard that all the clubs and teams would have booths and such , for people like herself to sign up. She entered her first class room and sat down towards the front. She couldn't stop thinking about the volleyball team, she had played back in middle school and was excited to finally play at the highschool level. Amy waited for a moment as the final bell rang. The teacher at the front started talking "Welcome to Calculas class , I'll be your teacher," she said Amy smiled for a moment and then it hit her, She looked back at her schedule, she didn't have calculus, she stood up and started walking out, the teacher stopped her. "Where are you going?" The teacher asked, "Umm I have the wrong class sorry, I'm new here, do you know where algebra 1 is?" She asked as the class chuckled at Amy's misfortune. The teacher pointed her the way and she went to her class, she kept thinking 'good job Amy way to start off the new year.' She walked into her correct class and sat down, she finally breathed a sigh of relief. Boy lunch couldn't come fast enough.	Amy Seifert Grade: 9 Age :15 Height: 5'5 Position: Setter Skills: Decisive Quick feet Hobbies: Volleyball Video games Cards Likes: Spur of the moment decisions Dislikes: School Studying Essays Personality: A live in the moment kind of girl , who lives I. Two extremes, on the court she works hard and makes decisions, off the court the exact opposite, slacks off in class.
52,712	1,431	1	1,570	4,038	"Peanuts?" The young stewardess asked, leaning over. Riley looked up, "Yeah sure." she stated, putting her hand out as the woman placed the bag in her hand. She fiddled with the plastic wrapper before opening up the salty snack and popping a few into her mouth. To the right of her, a foot emerged between the airline seats. A decayed foot, grey in texture and decrepit. The toe nails broken and black. Her eyes widened as she outstretched her arm above her head to press the help button to summon back the stewardess. Pressing it multiple times the woman finally came. "Get this thing away from me!" Riley exclaimed, pointing towards the foot. The stewardess smiled, leaning over the girl and ripped the foot directly from the leg and dropping it into Riley's lap. "FUCK." A gasp escaped the girl's lips as she awoke from her strange dream. She was kicking herself for watching that horror movie last night before bed. Shooing her cat off her bed, Riley shifted and reached for her phone that sat on the bed side table. It was already time for school. She looked through her phone swiping off notifications from social networks and different applications. Her parents didn't want her on these sites, but what they didn't know wouldn't kill them. Reading a few texts, she quickly remembered it was volleyball tryouts today. She was awfully excited to be back on the court with all her friends, and knew that this year would not be one to forget. Riley got out of bed in a hurry. Most of her family was gone doing their own morning routine so she had some time to herself for a minute. The basement was mostly her own in a way anyways, minus the laundry room and the karaoke machine. Getting a shower out of the way, she did only just a small amount of make up and getting ready- wanting to leave for school as soon as possible.	Name: Riley Lynn Khang. Grade: Twelfth. Age: Sixteen. Height: Five foot two. Preferred Position: Libero. Skills: Shows up to practice early and leaves late. Precise bumping/passing to where the ball needs to be. Personality: Riley has a very happy go lucky personality, with a tendency for the dramatic and a weight on her shoulder that doesn't seem to get lighter. At school she is the girl that you will see with a cheerful smile across her face and a pep in her step. She enjoys making people laugh, talking with anyone that approaches her and being involved with extra-curricular activities. At home however, she tends to be very meek- not raising her voice or getting in anyone's way. She likes to keep to her room besides coming out to do chores. No one from school has ever been allowed to come over to Riley's house so no one has really seen that side of the girl. She technically isn't allowed to go to other people's houses either, but she usually can convince to one of her parents that she is just staying after school to do homework or a group project. Riley could be seen as a liar because of the sort of double life she is living, but she feels it's better to just wait out her problems rather than confront them and cause more trouble for herself. Hobbies: Self teaching how to play piano Knitting and sewing Watching youtube tutorial videos Likes Cooking big meals Hot tea with lemon and lots and lots of honey Having a reason not to go home after school Reading and learning about new things Getting her hair and nails done Dislikes Getting lectured often Not having her drivers license Having to babysit her siblings last minute Summer time heat and humidity Some of the traditions in her culture Habits Gasping dramatically for no real reason Texting with too many emojis and exclamation marks Eating late at night
52,713	1,431	2	1,721	1,466	Mackenzie Tick. Tock. As the hands on the clock drew nearer and nearer to the horrible hour, so too did Mac’s dread creep closer and closer to an inevitable boiling point. Again and again she checked the little piece of paper which dictated how the next several months of her life would be spent...but it stubbornly refused to change. Was it karma? Had she so greatly wronged somebody that THIS was what the universe saw fit to throw her way? Or was it an omen? A sign that, yes Mac, things WILL be as bad as you fear? Math. Even thinking the word made her want to shudder. Algebra I, as the little scrap of paper unfortunately confirmed on yet another check, would be her first class of her first year of her first high school. There was no getting around it. She would just have to woman up and go. Tick. Tock. Tick. It was easier said than done. Her legs didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to move from her little corner of the hallway by a window. Today would set the precedent for the rest of her high school life. Every day over the next four years would be judged against today. That pressure...well it was starting to build up. Mac couldn’t help but just gaze outside. How easy would it be to just leave right now? To just run far, far away and...and...uh… Tock. Tick. And what? Where would she go? What would she do? She was being ridiculous. It was just a case of the nerves. She knew that. Gramps said that everybody got ‘em. All she had to do was go learn some stuff, have some fun, and it’d be over before she knew it. And hey, maybe math wouldn’t suck as much this year? Right? ...well, a girl could dream. Without further delay, Mac wrapped up her little crisis, took a deep breath, and bounced her way to class. She entered, found a seat towards the back near the windows, sat down, and pulled her notebook out from her bag before sitting the former on her desk and the latter by her seat. She was ready. She could do this! She could...wilt. Which she did immediately upon reading the words printed neatly in yellow chalk across the top of the blackboard at the front of the class. A L G E B R A I It was too early for this shit. She needed some coffee. Granted, she had never drank so much as a drop of coffee before in her life, but by God she needed some at that moment. It could always have been worse though. She could have been like the girl who ended up barging into class a little bit after the final bell rang out. Mac felt for that chick. First class of your first day of your first year and you’re late? That poor girl was going to have rough time. But hey! At least it wasn’t her. Because that. Was. Embarrassing.	Name: Mackenzie Lee Kennedy Goes by Mac or Kenzie to her friends. Grade: First-year Age: Sixteen (16) Height: 175.2cm (5'9ft) Prefered Position: Opposite (Right side hitter) \| No preference Skills: + Superb athleticism for her age + Nimble + Highly adaptable + Unpredictable - Little to no volleyball experience - Weak fundamentals - Unpredictable Hobbies: • Volleyball • Exercising • Running • Basketball • Surfing Likes: ✔ Basketball ✔ Swimming ✔ Cats ✔ Competing/Winning ✔ Traveling ✔ Poetry ✔ Hip-hop Dislikes: ✘ Frogs ✘ Math ✘ Losing ✘ Failure Personality: Mac ain’t exactly the most complicated kid on the block. She just likes having fun, y’know? To that extent, she’s a playful gal. She’s always down for some good ol’ fashioned ribbing, taking her own share in stride. Usually. Sometimes she doesn’t know when she’s taken it too far. Quite frankly, she’s pretty poor at reading people in general, unless it’s pretty obvious. Going hand-in-hand with Mac’s playfulness is her fierce competitive nature. Just about anything and everything can be turned into a game in her mind, and the bigger the stakes, the better. She’s a driven individual, always wanting to be the best at whatever she does, be it volleyball, pickup basketball, or even tic-tac-toe. And when she wins, Mac’s on top of the world. For the most part, she’s a graceful winner...unless the loser is a friend. God help them if so. But should Mac lose...well, she doesn’t take the L well. She’ll get upset and usually beat herself up, regardless of how well she did or ended up. Second place? Might as well be last. Winning really is everything to the girl. But she doesn’t just expect to be handed first place. Winning’s no fun if not earned, so she takes every competition seriously, expecting no less from her opponent. If you wanna be the best, you gotta play the best. And if you wanna play the best, you gotta be willing to put in the work. That’s something Mac lives by faithfully. She practices, practices, practices, and then practices some more. Whatever it takes to reach the top, she’ll do. Well...kinda. Mac’s not the best team player around. She has difficulty relying on others in a competition. She’d rather try to shoulder the weight of the entire team than watch somebody else blow her chance of winning. It’s not entirely unfair to call her a selfish player, though she doesn’t perform the way she does for glory. She just wants the win, and she’s more than willing to be the entire team if need be. That can lead the girl to make some poor decisions, but repeated past successes have more or less shown that that can work...or at least it did in basketball. It’s not that she’s trying to be malicious, she’s just rash and impulsive, sometimes getting so invested in what she’s doing that she can’t help but want to be everywhere, to do everything. It’s something that she’s aware of and is trying to fix, but... old habits die hard.
52,714	1,431	3	620	422	MAKOTO NYGAARDThe first day of his final year in high school was underway. Makoto was always carrying a cheerful grin, some people described it as a stupid smirk but the blonde boy figured it was a charming quirk of his. As he strutted through the halls he whistled a playful nursery rhyme knowing that having library duties during the first few periods of the day was a blessing. He could do what he pleased as long as he did his job at organizing the books and keeping things neat, that and not bothering the classes that were going on. Sure he needed to focus more on his studies for his college entrance exams, but he didn't want to worry too much about that since this was also his last year on the volleyball team. This year he was going to help the team succeed in going further than ever before. He was a senior so he had to show the underclassmen that any dream was possible if they tried hard enough. A bit of blood, sweat, and tears never hurt anyone and he knew for a fact too many sweat and tears were wasted last year and not enough blood put into it. This year was going to be completely different as Makoto was going to help his best friend T.K. lead the team to victory. As he wandered into the library with his stupid face and grin, he bowed, expecting to get a lecture for being late by the librarian, but to his surprise no one was there. He peeked his eyes open and slowly slid away into the aisles of the bookshelves. Makoto tapped the spines of the books until he came to a yellow hardcover titled The Sunflower Girl. "Sounds like my kinda girl," he muttered, opening the young adult book. Once distracted by romance novels it was hard to get Makoto's attention off of it. The cure for that though, was always volleyball.	Name: Makoto Nygaard Grade: Senior Age: 18 Height: 6'1" (186cm) Prefered Position: Outside Hitter / Left-Wing Spiker Personality: Makoto is a very happy-go-lucky kind of guy. He likes talking and is known to be pretty smooth. Being outgoing and knowing what to say and when to say it is something that Makoto is good at. He always has a smile on his face no matter what the atmosphere is because Makoto knows that a simple smile can bring out a lot of wonders, which is why he always carries his. He doesn't over-think and he isn't too methodical, but Makoto is a very dependable and genuine guy. You can tell when the guy is serious or is upset, if the smile is wiped from his face then it is time to get things back into gear. Makoto's smile speaks a thousand words on and off the court, especially for him. If you see one of his famous smirks on his face you know that he'll be there to help cheer up any situation, but if it is gone while on the court, then you know he is concentrating hard on the game ahead. Skills: - Makoto has a very strong and powerful swing - An above average vertical of 28 inches - Known to serve floaters - Dependable Backrow hits Hobbies: - Volleyball - Singing - Playing the Guitar - Reading Likes: - Farming Games - Volleyball - Football (soccer) - Spring - the Library - RomComs Dislikes: - Running and most cardio - Onions - Pickles - Drama
52,715	1,431	4	92	2,185	Kiley Hill Interacting with : No One Usually Kiley really enjoyed class, but her first class was math. She had never been good at it despite how much she studied. She was zoning out on the first day of class trying to decide what to do about what club to join. The news club she had been a part of the year prior had to disband because her and one other girl would be the only ones left and neither would be very good at recruiting. She knew that it'd probably be best to join a club that one of her friends was in, but she didn't have many friends. She was friends with Riley Khang, but Riley was in the volleyball club. Kiley had played volleyball a lot when she was younger, but she was probably a little rusty. Not to mention lots of people tend to come to watch games and numerous people were not Kiley's forte. What should she do? Riley had mentioned the low numbers this year for the volleyball team. Her family also have tried to convince her to join. Maybe she should ask Riley next time they saw each other. For now though Kiley though it'd probably be best if she started paying attention. She looked up at the board and just saw a jumble of meaningless math that she'd never have any hope of remembering.	Name: Kiley Lynn Hill Grade: 11th Age: 17 Height: 5'6" Preferred Position: Middle Blocker Skills: Quick learner Quick thinking Excellent at emotional support Personality: A very shy person and fairly emotional, Kiley is very kind and sweet to everyone. She enjoys taking care of others even if they don't ask her to. She will typically go out of her way to help. She gets upset real easily and when she does she typically hides behind a family member or a really close friend. Kiley really loves helping people. The only time she doesn't appear shy is when she is taking care of someone whether it be emotional support or trying to ease some sort of pain. She also adores children and when she finishes high school desires to study to become a Pediatrician. She is not at all confrontational and does her best to keep others from seeing her break down, but she can't hold back emotional pain forever and every now and then starts crying when she is alone with really close friends or at home. Hobbies: Volleyball Cooking Spending time with friends and family Likes Helping People Children Reading Books Animals Cooking/Baking Dislikes Solitude Being center of attention Bullies Stuck-up people Habits Experimenting with cooking Reading Being motherly to her friends
52,716	1,431	5	1,201	1,268	Alex Randall Alex was bored. Sure, he was one to get bored easily, but this was the first day of school. How could he already be bored to death? None of his friends were in this class so he didn't have anyone to pass notes to or make stupid faces at. The teacher was ridiculously strict and spent an eternity simply going over the class syllabus. The class rules were already two pages long by itself! No talking except during class discussions, no cell phones, no eating, no drinking, no listening to music, nothing! How was he going to survive? "Maybe actually paying attention and doing class work?" he thought only for a moment before shaking it off. "Like that is ever going to happen." All he wanted was for classes to go by faster so he could go to the volleyball try outs. He had been practicing a lot during the break and was feeling all fired up. Forgetting all about the rules, he pulled out a rice ball that he brought from home and began to eat. He was sitting in the back, but unfortunately the teacher still noticed. "Mr. Randall! What did I just say about eating in class?" the teacher scolded, one could see a vein popping out of his head. "Uh...Not allowed?" he answered with his mouth filled with rice, causing some to spill out. The rest of the class could not help but giggle. "This is the first day so I'm letting you off with a warning, but the next time you are going to get detention! Don't let it happen again." "Yessir..."	Name: Alexander "Alex" Randall Grade: Sophomore Age: 16 Height: 5"11 ("I'm still growing!") Prefered Position: Middle Blocker Skills: - Quick reflexes and athletic instincts - Fast learner Hobbies: - Volleyball - Eating a lot - Watching late night TV - Going to the gym Likes: - Good food - Friendly people - That feeling when you block someone - That feeling when you slam down a nice spike - Lame puns and jokes Dislikes: - When others are upset - Getting blocked - Bitter food - Bullies Personality: Alex is a young man who is ready to face the world with a smile on his face. He is very cheerful and his smile is contagious. He is willing to befriend anyone who would want him and even a few that don't. He is often seen with some sort of snack whether it is a power bar or a bag of trail mix, and it can be assumed that he is always hungry. He blames the fact that he is a growing boy who needs all the nutrients to grow as tall and strong as he can. Some may think he is just an easy going guy, but when it comes to volleyball and friendship, he is very serious. He works hard and strives to be the best player he can be. He hopes that with enough practice and effort, he could become the next Ace when the current one graduates. While he still lacks the experience to be an amazing player, he is a quick learner with high natural physical abilities. Also, he doesn't appreciate it when people are mean to his friends. He'll be there to defend them and try to defuse the situation peacefully. If he is unable to, he is willing to fight for his friends. Habits: - Telling and laughing at really lame jokes - Always snacking - Makes a silly face if he catches someone looking at him
52,717	1,431	6	2,620	2,549	Riley 'T.K.' Takagawa The first day of school was typically uneventful- all that ever happened was the reading of syllabi- some math classes got ahead and started early, but for the most part the first day of school was for clerical and organizational purposes. Luckily for Riley, most of his teachers knew him as Captain of the volleyball team, and allowed him to spend most of the day outside of class- presumably to put up fliers, though just as many teachers knew that he'd just be asleep in class otherwise. So, Riley was left to wander the halls during the day, as he did with his ever leisurely pace, his backpack slung over a single shoulder, and stack of fliers clutched lazily in his other hand- a few stay fliers from the stack falling out occasionally as he walked down the hall, sticking them to bulletin boards when he saw them. Eventually he got bored and just leaned against the wall nearby bulletin boards, only getting up to move as teachers rounded the hallway, tacking on a flier as he did, making it appear as he had just made it to that bulletin board. He finally found himself in the library. Spotting Makoto, Riley followed the other senior into the depths of the library. "Ah Makoto." Riley said with a lazy whisper, as a way of getting the other senior's attention. "What time are tryouts again?"	Name: Riley "T.K." Takagawa Age: 18 Grade: Senior Height: 6'2" \| 188cm Preferred Position: Wing Spiker, Ace Skills: - Has a powerful Jump-Serve - A versatile attacker with good power and control - Flexible and adaptable Personality: Calm and collected, Riley is a modest student known for both his warm demeanor and level-headedness. Mature, with an even and relaxed temperament, Riley handles stressful situations with ease, and is often unfazed by hardships. He works well under pressure, and is capable of thinking logically even during times of peak stress. Riley gets along relatively well with others, or at the very least rarely steps on the toes of others. While neither the most outgoing or friendly person, Riley rarely levels insults at others or tries to antagonize them. In fact, Riley is so easygoing to point of laziness. Notoriously lazy, Riley is notably unstudious and lacking drive, and its often a wonder that he manages to maintain the grades necessary to keep his scholarship. With little drive or direction in life, Riley isn't absolutely sure of what he wants other than to live a full, fun life. A career in professional sports after university has piqued his interests, and tentative talks with talent scouts have implied that a scholarship to a university may be within his grasp. However, he has also expressed the desire to help the people around his community, and has made toyed with the idea of becoming an EMT after graduation, similar to his mother. Likes: + Hiking + Karaoke + Anime/Manga + Volleyball (duh) + Swimming + Late Night Drives Dislikes - Schoolwork - Waking up early - Having to stay late after practice - People who over-complicate things Habits: - Regularly drinks canned tea - Smokes Cigarettes - Sleeps in class
52,718	1,431	7	594	288	Ring! Ring! Ring! Finally the lunch bell, she dashed out the door and into the outside path leading to the big lunch room, she walked through the door and their it was the club booths, a different club for almost anyone and anything, but she had already made up her mind and she immediately approached the volleyball, booth to sign up for the tryouts and club, "H-hi , " she said quietly as talking to others wasn't her strong suit, "I am Amy, and I was wondering what time tryouts took place , and where they took place, sorry I'm new here?" She said as she looked up for the first time after running to the booth.	Amy Seifert Grade: 9 Age :15 Height: 5'5 Position: Setter Skills: Decisive Quick feet Hobbies: Volleyball Video games Cards Likes: Spur of the moment decisions Dislikes: School Studying Essays Personality: A live in the moment kind of girl , who lives I. Two extremes, on the court she works hard and makes decisions, off the court the exact opposite, slacks off in class.
52,719	1,431	8	2,180	2,019	Tsuya was slightly nervous all day. For all the time she' been the gym assistant here, she'd been told what to do. Demonstrate this, help the students with that. She was always in a position of responsibility, but this afternoon would be her first day in a position of any kind of authority. She did not want to screw this up. It was her time to shine, and if she ever wanted to be promoted to gym teacher, this was the moment she had to prove she could do it. Gym class in the morning had been uneventful. There was not a lot to do as they were doing track and field. She just had to watch and make sure nobody gets hurt of needs assistance, and this was a fairly senior class so they never did. It gave her plenty of time to think about Volleyball. Tsuya played Volleyball when she was in high school, but then, just like now, she just did what she was told by her coach. She didn't know much about volleyball tactics. All she knew was the rules. She wasn't even entirely sure why she had been made Coach this year, but she wasn't about to let an opportunity slip by! -- Tsuya waited behind the Volleyball booth as the lunch bell rang. To her surprise, not even five minutes after, when students had just started arriving, one girl already approached her. "Hello, Amy," answered the Gym Assistant, "Tryouts take place after classes are over, in the gym hall. If you'd just like to sign your name on the sheet." Tsuya studied the girl. She seemed quite timid as a first impression and didn't look very athletic at first glance though she could surprise her. Tsuya had been surprised at the abilities of seemingly fragile-looking girls too often to ever write anybody off. "So," she started, striking up a conversation to try and bring the girl out of her shell a little, "How are you finding Mino High so far?"	Name: Tsuya Tanumi Occupation: Gym Assistant Age: 29 Height: 5"7 Prefered Position: Coach Personality: Tsuya is not exactly used to authority, but she knows how to do her job well, and strives to do as good a job as she can. Though she helped out in previous years, this is the first year where she is the volleyball team coach instead of the Gym Teacher, and she is determined not to let anybody down, despite this being a new learning experience for her as well as the girls. She takes planning practice and schedules very seriously to make up for her hack of knowledge about volleyball tactics, though she's also working hard to research that area in her free time. She still trusts match plans to the Team Captain. She is not a strict teacher, though she is very disciplined. If anybody is slacking during training, she will respond not with anger or disappointment but with motivational shouting to pump them up until they get up to the level she expects of them. Other than this, she is a friendly, patient coach, and would never push a child harder then they can go. Skills: -Good personal trainer and motivator -Very organised and professional about scheduling -Fit and athletic Hobbies: -Running -Swimming -Greco-Roman Wrestling Likes: -Seeing her hard work pay off -Partying on the weekends Dislikes: -Failing in any way -Being let down by the team in any way (That doesn't include losing matches as long as they gave it their all)
52,720	1,431	9	594	288	Amy looked down and signed her name to the sheet, she then quickly looked back up, "And where exactly is the gym at?" She asked. "Also it's fine so far barring my mistake. I wound up in an upperclassman math instead of mine own and had to arrive late, great first impression huh. But nevertheless I'll see you after classes are over then, Coach." She said extremely fast. She then turned away and walked back to a seat to eat her lunch slightly further away from the booths and began to eat her lunch alone.	Amy Seifert Grade: 9 Age :15 Height: 5'5 Position: Setter Skills: Decisive Quick feet Hobbies: Volleyball Video games Cards Likes: Spur of the moment decisions Dislikes: School Studying Essays Personality: A live in the moment kind of girl , who lives I. Two extremes, on the court she works hard and makes decisions, off the court the exact opposite, slacks off in class.
52,721	1,431	10	1,201	1,268	Alex Randall By the time it was lunch, Alex was starving. He rushed over to the lunch line and struggled to fight through the crowds to get some food. Despite the fact that a lot of the students were in clubs and were at their booths, the lunch line was still hectic as ever. He managed to get a pork bun with minimal injuries and decided to check on the volleyball club booth. He noticed a girl, talking to the coach but she left before he reached them. She was rather small, probably a first year. Kind of cute though. Regardless, he walked over there to greet the coach. "Heya Coach!" he said with a cheeky smile. "Any fresh meat for the team?" He opened the wrapper with his pork bun and proceeded to take a few, large bites of it. "Mmm... delicious..."	Name: Alexander "Alex" Randall Grade: Sophomore Age: 16 Height: 5"11 ("I'm still growing!") Prefered Position: Middle Blocker Skills: - Quick reflexes and athletic instincts - Fast learner Hobbies: - Volleyball - Eating a lot - Watching late night TV - Going to the gym Likes: - Good food - Friendly people - That feeling when you block someone - That feeling when you slam down a nice spike - Lame puns and jokes Dislikes: - When others are upset - Getting blocked - Bitter food - Bullies Personality: Alex is a young man who is ready to face the world with a smile on his face. He is very cheerful and his smile is contagious. He is willing to befriend anyone who would want him and even a few that don't. He is often seen with some sort of snack whether it is a power bar or a bag of trail mix, and it can be assumed that he is always hungry. He blames the fact that he is a growing boy who needs all the nutrients to grow as tall and strong as he can. Some may think he is just an easy going guy, but when it comes to volleyball and friendship, he is very serious. He works hard and strives to be the best player he can be. He hopes that with enough practice and effort, he could become the next Ace when the current one graduates. While he still lacks the experience to be an amazing player, he is a quick learner with high natural physical abilities. Also, he doesn't appreciate it when people are mean to his friends. He'll be there to defend them and try to defuse the situation peacefully. If he is unable to, he is willing to fight for his friends. Habits: - Telling and laughing at really lame jokes - Always snacking - Makes a silly face if he catches someone looking at him
52,722	1,432	0	374	801	10:13 AM, 26th of June, 2502. The little quiet town of Primafrontier, one of the very first towns to be formed in Ravage after the 12 major cities settled. It was formed by the poor of one of the bigger cities, seeking their own place in life away from the larger picture. And so they made it. A simple little town of families, law abiders and decent businessmen. It seldom got more nieve than Primafrontier. The town itself was mostly built with Slakestone, cheap and easy housing with wooden shutters. The saloon was their primary form of income from weary travelers stopping to drink or take it nice and easy. They had an apothecary who doubled as a doctor for the bigger incidents and if anyone needed a cure for poisoning or a broken leg. They had a post office that would recieve from the Bridgeington postal service, still the best service in all of Ravage. They had a small farm too, your average selection of cattle and a couple of fields of crops that needed water very often. Whilst Ravage was a dry as hell desert, it did get the occasional spot of rain. In this sleepy little town, a man could find himself a good drink and good company. A man could settle and relax... or, a man could seek out why so many of the buildings seem to have bullet holes cracked into them as of late...	Name: (What's yer handle, pardner?) Jacob T. Hines Nickname: (What do the legends say aboutcha?) Ranger Age: (How many years?) 21 years old Appearance: (Yer physical dimensions and yer hair, friend.) Tall, 5 foot 8, Has black hair, baby blue eyes, pale skin, and a rough beard Outfit: (Watcha got on there, stranger?) Desert Ranger armor, lots of protection from small arms fire and even radioactive hotspots. Gas masks grants immunity to gas attacks Occupation(s): (What do you do, friend? You can pick up to two occupations, don't just have to be a gunslinger or bounty hunter.) A Has been bounty hunter and a heavily devoted nuclear scientist. Biography: (Spin me yer yarn, tell me bout yerself. Feel free to come up with locales in the world, you might end up visiting them at some point.) I was a Desert Ranger ever since I was 18. The Desert rangers were one of the few groups on ravage that actually gived a shit about the small settlements that dotted the wastelands, unlike those city dwellers....life is always hard, but the desert rangers made others easier, till our leader, Ripper, found that damned ancient artifact miles under the blasted planets surface. It was a simple job. A 'moral' bounty, a fetch and grab....no...what I saw was ancient alien markings no one had seen before....and the...orb...it called out to me...called out to ripper. His mind was...warped. He went psycho, yelling...screaming...wanting human flesh and blood for...a damn blood god...he never acted like that....he started shooting at us...raving. I had to put him down....I had to...I broke his neck with a rock...my teammate grabbed the orb...and I threw him against the wall....punched his face till he collapsed....and left. I had no choice....whatever power that orb had....it haunts me to my very core. To my very nature...I blew the mine up, burying the orb...and tossed my ranger badge on the desert sand....ever since, the desert rangers have been looking for my blood... Equipment: (Watcha carrying stranger? Weapons count here, feel free to go into detail on a gun.) An Ancient single action revolver passed down even before there arrival on this planet. The gun has decent damage and is a family relic for years. The markings on the pistol say 1898, and has been well kept up with. It uses .44 caliber ammo and he has 3 cylinders of 6 shots for it. 1 canteen {Filled} 2 MREs Skills and Flaws: (Ideally you want 1 flaw per 1 skill just to keep things balanced.) Positive: Can Hack many types of computers and great with technology, Has Proficiency in Conventional Firearms, Has proficiency in Energy weapons Negative: Freaked out by humanoid robots, Bad Luck, Terrible at sneaking, hates heights
52,723	1,432	1	1,244	9,383	9:45 AM Walking down the dry and dusty road, a young figure, dark in tone, lean built, and carrying something strapped to his back, was strolling through the desert hoping to find a settlement to rest his weary feet. He was reaching for his canteen to get a drink of whatever water he had left, only to realize the canteen was empty. Looking at it was a little annoyance in his eyes, he put the canteen away almost to curse the desert for ever existing. Benny just came from another settlement that was about 3 and a half days walking distance away. Recently he had to put down some riffraff that were causing a commotion. 4 men dead, 1 alive but incarcerated. Originally he was in that settlement to make money using his music but ended up fighting and the worst part about it was that these men didn't even have a bounty on them so either way, Benny didn't get paid...except for the few meager heads and faces. Hoping that whatever settlement he ran into next, he would make a killing, Benny saw something in the distance. Yes, it his eyes finally set it's sights on another settlement. Being out in the desert for these last 3 and a half days, he hoped it wasn't a mirage but he was going to find out.... Now.... Benny was just walking into the quiet little town of Primafrontier, looking around and noticing a few people. Seeing the sign of the saloon across the street, Benny was wondering if he'd even make anything here, as the bullet holes in the buildings must've told him in his mind that there have been a bit of trouble before. How often did criminals come through here? Well, Benny was in need of money and info about this place, so he headed for the saloon first, not only for the info but.....he was thirsty as hell.	Name: Benny Freeman Nickname: Killer Melody Age: 30 Appearance: He's 6'0 tall and weighing 180 lbs. Outfit: What is on the picture. Occupation(s): He's a drifting musician/ street performer. Occasional gun for hire. Biography: Benny grew up in a family of four boys, him being the 3rd son. He and his brothers were known to be the Freeman Brothers Band, a music group that travels not only to perform but rob as well being part time bandits. Carlo the oldest, Dante the second child, Benny the 3rd son, and Eddie the baby. These four were notorious for their music talent to draw people in and then hold them at gun point to give "tribute" to their skills. The last robbery they did, changed Benny's life forever as they came upon a town with more resources than the other towns they come through. The Mayor was the sheriff and was out of town at the time when the brothers came forth to rob the place. Usually, they try not to kill, only to shoot anyone under self defense. This time around, things went south as the town they were robbing, had many deputies protecting the place. A shoot out, that Benny tried to avoid happening, went down during the stick up, causing the death of Carlo and Eddie along with the few deputies that came after them. Dante, which was the crazy one in the family, took a woman hostage, who happened to be the Mayor's wife. Using her, Dante killed off the other deputies present. When Dante hurried to take her into a saloon, he attempted to rape her by threatening that he'd rape her son and kill him if she didn't let him do as he pleased with her. Benny begged for Dante to stop such atrocities for the fact that it reminded him of their father's sick actions. Dante pointed his gun to Benny to shut him up but before Dante could rape the woman, Benny shot his brother in the back of the head to stop him and demanded the mayor's wife to leave, saving her. As he was attempting to leave the area, the mayor showed up with the rest of his men, holding Benny at gunpoint but was spared his life thanks to the Mayor's wife. Benny, willing to pay for his crimes, was not arrested but was worked for free for a year. That was 3 years ago. Benny now a drifter and alone, no longer robs others but uses his talents for sale. If a town needs someone to rid them of any riffraff, Benny will do the deed as long as there's some form of payment. Equipment: An acoustic guitar that have been modified to hold in mini gun rounds, used to shoot from the guitar itself. The guitar also has another function as a pump-action grenade launcher. Even though there are hidden weaponry, the guitar can still function as a guitar. In his boots, there are two blades that come out to assist him in his hand to hand combat. His last resort is his sleeve gun. Skills and Flaws: Skilled with his shooting and his kickboxing, and deadly with his music, Benny is in great shape, a feat that should be known for the fact that his guitar is quite heavy to carry. Not only to play but to fight with as well. Despite his skills, he tends to get a bit careless at times. Either falling asleep in a dangerous place, getting distracted, or nearly losing his weapon, Benny puts himself in crazy situations that nearly gets him killed.
52,724	1,432	2	374	801	The saloon, also known as the "Dead Horse" complete with a fitting sign of a horse's head with cartoon x's in its eyes, wasn't too packed for this time of day. The place sure smelt musty, a certain aging and the slakestone walls when mixed with alcohol. Inside it was more or less what you'd expect from this kind of place, old wooden flooring, mostly scrap stuff by the looks of how different each board was from the ones surrounding it, a stone bar with stools set up before it, a few assorted tables with various men drinking from glasses and playing cards. A piano also stood in the corner, but at present was unmanned and looking somewhat forlorn without its player. He didn't get too much attention from the locals when he strolled in, they were all too busy. At the bar himself, he found a bartender dressed up smart with a balding noggin, standing in front of a line of glasses on the shelf and a few choice selections of alcohol. To the right side of the bar, he could see a wanted board of various bounties and criminals, put up by the Hunter's Association. If he wanted bounty work, this was where he'd find it. "What'll it be, pal?" the bartender greeted him. "Perhaps some Licorashe Beer or Cider? Or you want something stiffer?" He kept an amiable air to him, the guy probably got tips often enough to make him this happy about a run of the mill job.	Name: (What's yer handle, pardner?) Jacob T. Hines Nickname: (What do the legends say aboutcha?) Ranger Age: (How many years?) 21 years old Appearance: (Yer physical dimensions and yer hair, friend.) Tall, 5 foot 8, Has black hair, baby blue eyes, pale skin, and a rough beard Outfit: (Watcha got on there, stranger?) Desert Ranger armor, lots of protection from small arms fire and even radioactive hotspots. Gas masks grants immunity to gas attacks Occupation(s): (What do you do, friend? You can pick up to two occupations, don't just have to be a gunslinger or bounty hunter.) A Has been bounty hunter and a heavily devoted nuclear scientist. Biography: (Spin me yer yarn, tell me bout yerself. Feel free to come up with locales in the world, you might end up visiting them at some point.) I was a Desert Ranger ever since I was 18. The Desert rangers were one of the few groups on ravage that actually gived a shit about the small settlements that dotted the wastelands, unlike those city dwellers....life is always hard, but the desert rangers made others easier, till our leader, Ripper, found that damned ancient artifact miles under the blasted planets surface. It was a simple job. A 'moral' bounty, a fetch and grab....no...what I saw was ancient alien markings no one had seen before....and the...orb...it called out to me...called out to ripper. His mind was...warped. He went psycho, yelling...screaming...wanting human flesh and blood for...a damn blood god...he never acted like that....he started shooting at us...raving. I had to put him down....I had to...I broke his neck with a rock...my teammate grabbed the orb...and I threw him against the wall....punched his face till he collapsed....and left. I had no choice....whatever power that orb had....it haunts me to my very core. To my very nature...I blew the mine up, burying the orb...and tossed my ranger badge on the desert sand....ever since, the desert rangers have been looking for my blood... Equipment: (Watcha carrying stranger? Weapons count here, feel free to go into detail on a gun.) An Ancient single action revolver passed down even before there arrival on this planet. The gun has decent damage and is a family relic for years. The markings on the pistol say 1898, and has been well kept up with. It uses .44 caliber ammo and he has 3 cylinders of 6 shots for it. 1 canteen {Filled} 2 MREs Skills and Flaws: (Ideally you want 1 flaw per 1 skill just to keep things balanced.) Positive: Can Hack many types of computers and great with technology, Has Proficiency in Conventional Firearms, Has proficiency in Energy weapons Negative: Freaked out by humanoid robots, Bad Luck, Terrible at sneaking, hates heights
52,725	1,433	0	2,036	2,453	Has a broken arm. Goal is to prove himself better than other goblin scum. Coloration is more muted; dull black and gray standings. Enough clothing to be covered but the most defining aspect is the skull rested on her head. The Eye sockets are matted or blacked out, with the horns being removed to her’s can poke through. The Skill is hollowed out covering the whole head.	Name: Morkus Species: Orc Age: 24 Gender: Male Appearance Specialization: Fighter Backstory: Up to this point, Morkus' life had been pretty uneventful for him by Fellmore standards. For as long as he could remember (About 4 years.) Morkus had been the big tough stupid guy for a small warband. Though he stood a head or 3 above his peers in terms of strength, durability, and fighting prowess, Morkus had a very limited thought process that kept thoughts of using his physical gifts to kill, clobber, and bully his way up the chain of command from ever crossing his mind. Instead he just sat around doing sweet FA unless someone yelled at him to do something. But then 1 day something happened to Morkus that wasn't at all normal. Morkus' warband had joined forces with another warband for an ambitious raid on a human farming village a scout had found after exploring a cave tunnel that led out of Fellmore. But on the day of the raid, their passage through the cave was blocked by a well dressed human with 1 eye. Sword in 1 hand and magic in the other, the human decimated the orcs. However, the human had great difficulty defeating Morkus. After a 4 hour battle though, Morkus seemed to gain the upper hand. But before he could strike the final blow, the human cast a strange purple aura on Morkus and everything went dark. When Morkus woke up, he was back in Fellmore and was hearing an odd sound in his head. He then spent the next few weeks wandering Fellmore before being recruited into the Warlock's army. Current Character Development Goal: Find out what that annoying sound is and how to make it stop.
52,726	1,433	1	2,492	758	Northaven Tower, Central Fellmore A trail of blood trickled from the closed metal fist, and the solemn echo of obsidian boots reverberated through the halls. The Warlock placed his hand on the double doors and paused. Today was the day. Everything, the whole world, was about to change, and his words would spark it. Millions would die. Yet, he could find no remorse in his heart. How many had already fallen? How many more would fall if he did not speak? No, there could be no more room for doubt. It was time. He pushed open the doors and strode onto the balcony. A stiff breeze whipped through his snowy hair. He turned his gaze down, where he beheld his creation. A hundred thousand warriors stood below, orcs, kobolds, and goblins, waiting on his word to bring death upon their enemies. A deep hush fell over the army when they saw him. He gripped his staff - it was now or never. "We were great once." His clear voice rang over the wind. "Once upon a time, we were warriors, proud of our heritage, and glorious to our households. Our men and women brought great bounties of food to our tables, and our servants wrought wondrous works for their families. Our children played in the streets, bold and fearless as they grew into upstanding citizens of the nation." "Look at us now. Men who call themselves 'heroes' slaughter us by the thousands, and with broad smiles they smear the blood of our kin upon every wall. Their 'champions of justice' raise the banner of 'democracy' and 'freedom' with one hand, and with the other they bring down the executioner's blade upon the innocent. But now, brothers and sisters, I have come to end it. No more shall the Chosen Champions shed your blood with poetry on their lips. No longer shall their holy iron sear your minds before the bloody sword. I, Druth Vanarys, will be your Advocate. This day, you shall have your voice. And this day, that voice shall say...ENOUGH!" The earth shook with violent shouts of approval. The soldiers stamped their feet and rattled their weapons, invigorated and ready to fight. Seizing upon the moment, the Warlock poured out the blood in his hand upon the earth and bellowed: "MARCH FORTH!" With a mighty cry, the army turned and marched for Aetherion.	* Name: Gorman * Species: Orc * Age: 50 * Gender: Male * Specialization: Fighter * Tragic Backstory: On one fateful night, when the annual thunderstorm soaked the Wasteland, the High Priestess went into labor with her first child. After hours of struggling to push him out, it is said that the midwife reached in to pull him out instead. The child latched onto her hand with such unnatural strength that she had to withdraw him arms-first. Legend has it that the moment he breathed his first breath, a lightning strike startled everyone in the room. But the child was the only one who didn't flinch. Instead, he pumped his fist in the air in defiance. Regardless of the truth of this story, legends surrounded the young orc from the very first years of his life. He supposedly popped the head of a kobold when he was three, defeated a platoon of goblins when he was ten, and defended his village from an invading orc army all by himself when he was twenty. The truth was a bit less glorious, but he made no attempt to stifle the legends - they were his shield against contenders. Despite having a talent for killing, he sought to live a more peaceful life, taking up architecture since entering adulthood. For many years, he and his team of builders constructed cities of rammed-earth and cobblestone all across Fellmore. His work was reputed to be of the highest quality, able to withstand both sieges and soaking thunderstorms. His wealthier clients appreciated his attention to detail, and his decorative work brought him to the feet of lords. But the peace was not to last. An alliance of humans and elves marched through Fellmore killing everything in their path. The reigning King of Fellmore drafted every able-bodied soul to the defense forces, including all of Gorman's employees. Every one of them died in the battle. Gorman was assigned to guard the King, and when the enemy finally routed the Fellmoran forces, Gorman reportedly absorbed nearly a dozen arrows before succumbing to his wounds. But the King perished anyway. Gorman wanted to die. But to his dismay, he did not. When the Warlock seized control of Fellmore, he heard tales of the orc's exploits and healed him. Now that he owed his life to the Warlock, Gorman had no choice but to live on. And if he was going to live, he decided he might as well take his revenge on the vicious elves that slew all his friends. Seized with this newfound reason for life, he accepted a position as Captain of a warband and trained to regain his fighting skills dulled from disuse. * Character Development Goals: Gorman views the other races with stereotypical prejudice. To him, elves are merely conniving snakes, humans are extra-wimpy elves, and dwarves are drunken idiots. All of them are gutless murderers in his eyes. He refuses to see them as people. Over time, though, circumstances will force him to face this issue and answer some tough questions about who he is and what he believes in.
52,727	1,433	2	2,610	346	Open. Kahl's eyes took in the dim amber haze that barely lighted what little could be seen inside the tent : warm, tangled bodies; torn blankets and clothes; weapons and armor haphazardly slung across and around the tired mess. This was how orcs slept, if and when they grew sibling bonds. Martial life often forebode against any closeness, but in Kahl's case...well, the new generation of Orcs were privileged to be together like this for one more night. Tohrban, his eldest brother, was the only exception. Even if he was almost double the size of his siblings, the Orc's want for personal space meant that he often slept in the corner and alone. Kahl, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to be in his bunk with the rest of his warband. He had stolen himself away in the doldrums of a dying feast to lie to himself a night more that he wasn't a mere Hobgoblin, that he would never fight alongside his brethren. He would be on a different front, on a different field, under a different master. At least they'd be fighting the same enemy. Kahl poked his head out of the tent, and strained his ears to hear the sounds of a gentle breeze -- an uncommon phenomenon in the usually-harsh Fellmore. He should be early enough to return to his proper fold before anyone noticed, so Kahl quickly and quietly picked up his articles before stepping over the rest of the Orc's bodies. He was one of the stealthiest of his brood, in spite of being much larger than his Hobgoblin kin; Kahl would like to keep it that way. By the time he reached the tents, several groups of goblins, kobolds, and bugbears were already packing up. The Warlock would be speaking once everyone was ready, and Kahl was prepared well in advance for this. His own rig of supplies, weapons, and armor were all waiting for him inside the tent. After the speech, Kahl raised his sword high in the sky. Usually made for Orcs, it was comfortably balanced and heavy in the Hob's hands. He couldn't speak for his smaller compatriots in his chosen warband, but he couldn't help but wonder : Who would be leading him into battle?	Hobgoblin \| New Blood (20) \| Male Image to be added later 5'5 \| 150 lbs. Fighter Background : Kahl was born the child of one of the select few hobgoblins chosen to monitor the Orcs after a great majority of them had sworn fealty to Vanarys. As such, he was supposed to be a bit sharper than even the average hobgoblin (at least, that's what would be the expected result from two well-performing soldiers), but then one of the many Orc uprisings had to go and kill his parents. This happened during the days before the Orc society solidified its change into one of brutes; out of mercy granted by one of the last old Orc shamans, Kahl was spared in his infancy and was raised alongside his much larger siblings. Being smarter and quicker to develop, Kahl was able to secure his own footing in the hierarchy of his cohorts by being more deft, more intelligent, and much less predictable in all aspects : war games, eating, learning, socializing. Whereas Orcs would easily take a beating for breakfast with a knuckle-sandwich for a snack, Kahl didn't get nearly as beat as often as the others. Whatever the new Orc generation suffered through, Kahl seemed to get through less scathed than others. It was no wonder that he came to be among the more promising of candidates when almost all Orcs were full integrated into the army. He had wit and capability beyond the standard thick-skin, and if his heritage had been true as his capability, he would have made an excellent battlemage. Unfortunately, a regular tussle with his supposed blood-sister resulted in him breaking his arm. At this, the overseeing Hobgoblin finally discerned Kahl's real heritage (in spite of the fact that he was a good 20-30 pounds heavier than most his species and age) and had him transferred to the main Legion. The damage, unfortunately, had already been done; Kahl was not going to be able to take up a new trade over one he already was extremely good at, which was being a damn good warrrior. All Kahl needed to do was prove himself he would be as good as the people that raised him and not the scum he was born of. Objective : Prove himself. No picture as of yet; may make my own if it comes to it.
52,728	1,433	3	570	186	“War, movement. Change, can adapt to movement. New chase.” Turning around the Female reptilian creature looked at her her current ‘patient’ who from the looks of it was coming along rather nicely. An Orc from what her paperwork said, or at least that’s what it was. Now it seemed to have new augmentations, most notably around the arms and legs. “Sequences spun, brain matter removed to make room for thicker skin and natural weapons. Should prove interesting.” The creature before her roared in pain, a sound she was use too for the most part. Still turning to look at the creature it had full view of her now. With this view came the blank eye sockets of the skull, even with all the light around them they still remained blacked out. Taking one step closer she smiled, unseen thanks to the hollowed out skull on her head. Opening her maw her lower jaw became visible, the muted color of dull gray and sight of her fangs bore ill will and for her friend no free pass. Only a loud crack followed by the Shaman walking outside, her skulls upper jaw sporting a new splotch of crimson. “Stands still too weak. Change almost complete, more Material is required.”	Name: Alarus Species: Kobold Age: 43 Gender: Female Appearance: (I really hate the look of all images...Coloration is more muted; dull black and gray standings. Enough clothing to be covered but the most defining aspect is the skull rested on her head. The Eye sockets are matted or blacked out, with the horns being removed to her’s can poke through. The Skill is hollowed out covering the whole head.) Specialization: Mage Backstory: Didn’t really care much for war, didn’t really care much for anything really. Almost the perfect reason for bliss, ignorance. However thanks to some rather interesting reading and latter understandings of old myths. By every right one would call her an genetic engineer. Learning the ins and outs of other creatures, even her own kind, this also lead to another wonderful title, Monster. As it turns out, learning how to rewrite genetic material is a more delicate art that the mage didn’t quite have at first, and without a goal or idea of what she was doing, ended up dooming the majority of her clan’s lesser families. “Weak, could not withstand alteration, strands insuffant.” After seeing how her work had left the clan she decided it was best to leave and work on others. Perhaps she could find stronger sequences of Genetic material elsewhere, and she wasn’t disappointed. Over her trip she saw many different alteration, even the many creatures in the wasteland. Of course she couldn’t really write it all down so she did the only thing she could think of, using her own DNA to store the sequences but making them latent so they wouldn’t. Unforeseen side effects of working with one's DNA. Pigmentation loss mainly. She had to do away with any kinda ‘waste’ date to make room, the easiest was simple. Moving around for years augmenting and ‘improving’ creatures how she saw fit. Till she got an invite from a rather strange source, The Warlock himself offering her a spot in his army. To her the idea of being able to work on so many creatures at once was something she couldn’t pass up. Witch Doctor, mad Alchemist, insane, just a few nicknames given to her over her time working for The Warlock, however her favorite is something she still uses to this day, a name many would never want to hear for it meant pain, suffering and body augmentation, ‘The Shaman’. * Character Development Goals: Perfection, even though she knows she can never obtain it, only chase it. To quote: “Never Perfect, perfection goal that changes, can chase but never catch.” (Yes speech patterns from her are in this tone.)
52,729	1,433	4	461	1,089	For a few moments, Erjak stared at two of his fellow orcs, one of the orcs before him picked up one of his books and mocked him openly despite Erjak's size and reputation within the orcish hordes, he only assumed that the two orc before him probably thought that they would be safe as long as there would be two of them, they clearly did not know who he was. "Place the book down and you'll leave this place alive!" he warned the two, he did not charge as he was afraid of damaging the book the orc had in his hands, the last memento that his elven friend had left behind before her death, he did not wish it destroyed. However, the orc only grinned at the threat and looked at the book for a few moments, before grabbing a few pages and ripping them out. Erjak simply snapped upon seeing him do that and threw the two-handed axe at him at full force, the axe burying itself in the orc's chest. While his friend hurried to pull his weapon out, Erjak simply jumped at him barehanded and started to bash his fists in his skull for a few minutes before all that remained of his head were only blood and a few bits of scattered brain. Leaving the two dead orcs, he grabbed the damaged book and sighed in regret as he stared at it, he had yet to learn the elven language to read the book and already, a few pages had been torn from it. He placed the book and the torn pages back in his satchel along with his remaining books and looked around to see if any other creature had a problem with it, but most had simply ignored the situation or feigned ignorance to what had happened... sometimes he liked the fear his reputation instilled, but that alone did not allow him too many friends. As the orcs began to cheer to the Warlocks speech, he only stared at the figure momentarily to register his appearance so that he may remember who had to kill in the future for the leadership of this horde before thinking to himself. "I think my captain was called Gorman, now to go find him and my future comrade-at-arms." With those thoughts directing him, he retrieved his axe from the dead orc and went to search for anyone that might fit the description of his to be captain.	Name: Erjak the Savage Species: Orc Age: 24 Gender: Male Specialization: Warrior Tragic Backstory: If one were to look at Erjak from the distance, standing solemnly with his axe leaning on his back, one might think that this orc is different from the rest of his kinsmen, more calm and collected, smarter than most of his peers and maybe one to be a leading example of how his people should act... he's only halfway there. Needless to say, being nicknamed the Savage by a race of savage people that know only war shows that Erjak is anything but a calm orc, though he is smarter than his peers, that does not serve him much when for most of his life he was surrounded by a people killing one another, and for most of his life, he was part of that machine, being especially efficient at killing other people since he was just a child, however, upon meeting his first slave, a young elven woman, he began to slowly change, a bit calmer and bit smarter. Though the slave looked like she had just grown to adulthood, she was much, much older than him, though even under the threat of death she did chose not to reveal her name. Every time he would gain a book, or anything that looked nice, he gleefully brought it before her and asked her to reveal it's history if she knew it. In time, she taught him how to read and even how to write as well and the two began to slowly share some mutual feelings for one another. However, it wasn't meant to be, it seemed that some of his fellow orcs were either jealous of his relationship with the elf, or simply hated that she was changing Erjak into something a bit more... civilized. One day, when Erjak returned from yet another raid with a heap of books and trinkets that looked interesting, he was greeted at the entrance of his village by half a dozen orcs standing in his path, on the shoulders of one of the orcs resting a body mangled and mutilated beyond recognition. Said orc tossed the body before a very confused Erjak, who stared at not knowing what to think about it. It was a while until the orc in front finally spoke "We had fun with your little elven toy!" and when he spoke, it took only a moment for Erjak's emotions to do a complete turn. He was angry... very angry, so angry, that he barely remembered letting himself loose upon the orcs in front of him, slaughtering them with great savagery, doing to their bodies what the orcs had done to his elven's friends body and then some more. The rest of the tribe said that he spent over half a day mauling their bodies with his axe before he finally recovered from the rage. And when he did, he got his nickname by his fellow kinsman, henceforth, he was known as Erjak the Savage. After that, he realized that his people were savage beyond belief, he needed to change them if he were to avoid situations like these from ever happening again and the only way to do that was to usurp the leadership of the horde's from the current overall leader, the Warlock. And so, to gain the leadership of his people, he infiltrated the Warlock's army, figuring that someone with his skills and renown in killing would do well in such an army. Goals: - Taking lead of his people - Teaching his people of his more peaceful ways... by force if necessary - Acquiring more books to study from, and possibly learning the elven language - Finding any possible elven relation of his former elven friend
52,730	1,433	5	1,420	924	The goblin whose name was Nuggle, leaned against his ebony staff upon a broken rock amidst the fields below the tower. The Warlock spoke of many grand things but Nuggle did not care about them. For Nuggle had never known a time where Fellmore was great, and where the little gobs could run and play freely without being eaten... or worse. Others around Nuggle were cheering when the Warlock finished, but Nuggle showed no emotion where he stood. Nuggle's world was going to change, and change fast. Those who did not see this, were already dead, but that wasn't such a bad thing. Nuggle found that killing was necessary. Nuggle could use it to prove a point, tighten Nuggle's hold upon the world and strike fear into the hearts of Nuggle's enemies. Nuggle might not have been a very good with a weapon, but magic came to Nuggle naturally. Nuggle hopped off the rock, and down into a stream of creatures. It seemed to Nuggle that the whole of Fellmore was here, ready to strike back at the heart of the so called enemy. However, Nuggle would not be joining these creatures, and instead wandered off to find his own company. Why Nuggle was in it, Nuggle did not know. Nuggle did know one thing though, that he is a simple creature, only craving that which might elevate his position further. And Nuggle smiled as the crowd swallowed him up.	Bit late, but here he is. * Name: Nuggle * Species: Goblin * Age: 21 * Gender: Male * Specialization: Mage * Tragic Backstory: Nuggle was born into the harsh world of the Fellmoran Wastelands for the purpose of dying. Nuggle's kin were simply cannon fodder in another pointless war with little meaning. By some miracle, Nuggle found himself surviving each and every time upon said battlefields. Nuggle would tell anyone it was because of Nuggle's bravery in the face of sheer carnage, but in reality Nuggle would be at the back of the battle, hiding out to survive. This went on for years, until Nuggle lived long enough to gain magical powers. It was an odd thing really, one day Nuggle had no powers, and then the next Nuggle did. After that moment, Nuggle was taken away by the hooded men and turned into a weapon. They trained Nuggle in his powers and told Nuggle of the eldritch knowledge of the world. Somehow and someway Nuggle was given as a gift to some warlock fellow. Nuggle sought no answers to this development, for Nuggle did not care where Nuggle went. As long as Nuggle used Nuggle's magic and survived what the world threw at Nuggle, Nuggle would endure. For Nuggle is a simple creature, a simple goblin who only craves the power in all its forms. * Character Development Goals: Power. Unlimited Power.
52,731	1,433	6	565	507	Quite a dramatic speech, too bad Sen couldn't care less about what the Warlock said. All she knew was there was people to kill and she was gonna be one of the first to see blood. Halfway through the speech, Sen was already moving out, she wasn't about to be swallowed up in some orc and goblin army. Call it claustrophobia, Sen just saw it as doing her bloody job, scouting ahead, getting a few kills, and then reporting back before heading out to get more kills. It was all the same for her, she couldn't care less about Fellmore. Sure it was hard, but she was never a surface dweller to begin with, that yellow orb in the sky was annoying enough without all these bloodthirsty, ravenous orcs and goblins running about. In the end though, Sen knew one thing was for certain, her dull red leather armor was gonna be a deep shade of crimson after all this is said and done.	Name: Sen Ignis Species: Kobold Age: 25 Gender: Female Specialization: Ranger Tragic Backstory: Parents were killed by a tunnel cave-in that was deliberately caused by a rival clan. Sen now hates every other kobold clan besides her own. Now serves as a merciless, emotionless killer in the Warlock's army. Character Development Goals: For Sen to actually regain her feelings and to learn something new besides killing.
52,732	1,433	7	2,036	2,453	The past few days had been confusing for Morkus. After that brush with the 1 eyed human, the orc had been swept in many directions by the winds of fate. Eventually, the orc found himself standing at the edges of a massive crowd despite not being sure why. Morkus was about to ask why everyone was standing around in a massive crowd, but the others fell into silence before he could. Morkus looked around for a reason to all this silence, only realizing to look up when the Warlock began speaking. Morkus cheered along with the rest of the army when the speech was done, despite not understanding half of it. But Morkus knew an order when he heard it being yelled at him. So when the orc army turned and began marching, so did Morkus.	Name: Morkus Species: Orc Age: 24 Gender: Male Appearance Specialization: Fighter Backstory: Up to this point, Morkus' life had been pretty uneventful for him by Fellmore standards. For as long as he could remember (About 4 years.) Morkus had been the big tough stupid guy for a small warband. Though he stood a head or 3 above his peers in terms of strength, durability, and fighting prowess, Morkus had a very limited thought process that kept thoughts of using his physical gifts to kill, clobber, and bully his way up the chain of command from ever crossing his mind. Instead he just sat around doing sweet FA unless someone yelled at him to do something. But then 1 day something happened to Morkus that wasn't at all normal. Morkus' warband had joined forces with another warband for an ambitious raid on a human farming village a scout had found after exploring a cave tunnel that led out of Fellmore. But on the day of the raid, their passage through the cave was blocked by a well dressed human with 1 eye. Sword in 1 hand and magic in the other, the human decimated the orcs. However, the human had great difficulty defeating Morkus. After a 4 hour battle though, Morkus seemed to gain the upper hand. But before he could strike the final blow, the human cast a strange purple aura on Morkus and everything went dark. When Morkus woke up, he was back in Fellmore and was hearing an odd sound in his head. He then spent the next few weeks wandering Fellmore before being recruited into the Warlock's army. Current Character Development Goal: Find out what that annoying sound is and how to make it stop.
52,733	1,433	8	2,492	758	At the command to march, captains everywhere turned to gather soldiers under their banners. Of course, they all wanted the strong, obedient ones. But Gorman wanted the rejects. There was greater glory in weakness, he believed, and the weaker they were when they started, the more glorious would be their end. The first one was the hobgoblin. Nobody paid attention to the spindly goblins, even the smarter kind. "You. You're with me." Not far off, a kobold came out of a tent dripping blood from its mouth. Gorman swallowed his disgust and looked it over. The kobold was female, and a reject, given that everyone else gave her wide berth. "You're on my team now. Come." He nearly bumped into a goblin weaving through the crowd. Gorman almost passed him by were it not for his unique mage raiment. He reached out and took the goblin by the shoulder. "My warband. Come." One particularly tall orc caught his eye. Someone needs to be my muscle, I suppose. And who else would want a tall guy on their team? He looks imposing enough to threaten a leader. "Join my warband. This way." It was then that Erjak spotted an old, burly orc leading four other troops behind him. The orc was huge, ripped as an orc can get, and bore the scars of many battles. It had to be Gorman.	* Name: Gorman * Species: Orc * Age: 50 * Gender: Male * Specialization: Fighter * Tragic Backstory: On one fateful night, when the annual thunderstorm soaked the Wasteland, the High Priestess went into labor with her first child. After hours of struggling to push him out, it is said that the midwife reached in to pull him out instead. The child latched onto her hand with such unnatural strength that she had to withdraw him arms-first. Legend has it that the moment he breathed his first breath, a lightning strike startled everyone in the room. But the child was the only one who didn't flinch. Instead, he pumped his fist in the air in defiance. Regardless of the truth of this story, legends surrounded the young orc from the very first years of his life. He supposedly popped the head of a kobold when he was three, defeated a platoon of goblins when he was ten, and defended his village from an invading orc army all by himself when he was twenty. The truth was a bit less glorious, but he made no attempt to stifle the legends - they were his shield against contenders. Despite having a talent for killing, he sought to live a more peaceful life, taking up architecture since entering adulthood. For many years, he and his team of builders constructed cities of rammed-earth and cobblestone all across Fellmore. His work was reputed to be of the highest quality, able to withstand both sieges and soaking thunderstorms. His wealthier clients appreciated his attention to detail, and his decorative work brought him to the feet of lords. But the peace was not to last. An alliance of humans and elves marched through Fellmore killing everything in their path. The reigning King of Fellmore drafted every able-bodied soul to the defense forces, including all of Gorman's employees. Every one of them died in the battle. Gorman was assigned to guard the King, and when the enemy finally routed the Fellmoran forces, Gorman reportedly absorbed nearly a dozen arrows before succumbing to his wounds. But the King perished anyway. Gorman wanted to die. But to his dismay, he did not. When the Warlock seized control of Fellmore, he heard tales of the orc's exploits and healed him. Now that he owed his life to the Warlock, Gorman had no choice but to live on. And if he was going to live, he decided he might as well take his revenge on the vicious elves that slew all his friends. Seized with this newfound reason for life, he accepted a position as Captain of a warband and trained to regain his fighting skills dulled from disuse. * Character Development Goals: Gorman views the other races with stereotypical prejudice. To him, elves are merely conniving snakes, humans are extra-wimpy elves, and dwarves are drunken idiots. All of them are gutless murderers in his eyes. He refuses to see them as people. Over time, though, circumstances will force him to face this issue and answer some tough questions about who he is and what he believes in.
52,734	1,433	9	2,610	346	Kahl sheathes his blade, and shoves and kicks his way through a swarm of smaller goblins and hobgoblins to get closer to Gorman. A careful glance gleaned Kahl a short description of his warlord to-be : older and weaker. But both of these brought wisdom and caution, much needed qualities that helped him get past the brute strength of the Orcs. If he was going to be able to maximize his own performance in the field, he needed a leader that could see the way he saw, or else he'd be working under a banner only in name. He doesn't verbalize his allegiance, though; after all, the much larger Orc had chosen him. Bragging would only bring suffering far earlier than needed.	Hobgoblin \| New Blood (20) \| Male Image to be added later 5'5 \| 150 lbs. Fighter Background : Kahl was born the child of one of the select few hobgoblins chosen to monitor the Orcs after a great majority of them had sworn fealty to Vanarys. As such, he was supposed to be a bit sharper than even the average hobgoblin (at least, that's what would be the expected result from two well-performing soldiers), but then one of the many Orc uprisings had to go and kill his parents. This happened during the days before the Orc society solidified its change into one of brutes; out of mercy granted by one of the last old Orc shamans, Kahl was spared in his infancy and was raised alongside his much larger siblings. Being smarter and quicker to develop, Kahl was able to secure his own footing in the hierarchy of his cohorts by being more deft, more intelligent, and much less predictable in all aspects : war games, eating, learning, socializing. Whereas Orcs would easily take a beating for breakfast with a knuckle-sandwich for a snack, Kahl didn't get nearly as beat as often as the others. Whatever the new Orc generation suffered through, Kahl seemed to get through less scathed than others. It was no wonder that he came to be among the more promising of candidates when almost all Orcs were full integrated into the army. He had wit and capability beyond the standard thick-skin, and if his heritage had been true as his capability, he would have made an excellent battlemage. Unfortunately, a regular tussle with his supposed blood-sister resulted in him breaking his arm. At this, the overseeing Hobgoblin finally discerned Kahl's real heritage (in spite of the fact that he was a good 20-30 pounds heavier than most his species and age) and had him transferred to the main Legion. The damage, unfortunately, had already been done; Kahl was not going to be able to take up a new trade over one he already was extremely good at, which was being a damn good warrrior. All Kahl needed to do was prove himself he would be as good as the people that raised him and not the scum he was born of. Objective : Prove himself. No picture as of yet; may make my own if it comes to it.
52,735	1,433	10	461	1,089	The orc looked strong, maybe even stronger than him, however Erjak would not willingly follow someone unless that person had earned his respect, strength was not everything when it came to Erjak. He furrowed his brows and went towards Gorman, half-prepared to swing his axe if it came to blows, though he hoped it would not come to this. "Hello, fellow orc, I assume you are Gorman?" Erjak asked standing in front of the large orc. "I am Erjak, you may know of me as the Erjak the Savage, I hope you do not mind me discussing a few things with you while we march towards our target?"	Name: Erjak the Savage Species: Orc Age: 24 Gender: Male Specialization: Warrior Tragic Backstory: If one were to look at Erjak from the distance, standing solemnly with his axe leaning on his back, one might think that this orc is different from the rest of his kinsmen, more calm and collected, smarter than most of his peers and maybe one to be a leading example of how his people should act... he's only halfway there. Needless to say, being nicknamed the Savage by a race of savage people that know only war shows that Erjak is anything but a calm orc, though he is smarter than his peers, that does not serve him much when for most of his life he was surrounded by a people killing one another, and for most of his life, he was part of that machine, being especially efficient at killing other people since he was just a child, however, upon meeting his first slave, a young elven woman, he began to slowly change, a bit calmer and bit smarter. Though the slave looked like she had just grown to adulthood, she was much, much older than him, though even under the threat of death she did chose not to reveal her name. Every time he would gain a book, or anything that looked nice, he gleefully brought it before her and asked her to reveal it's history if she knew it. In time, she taught him how to read and even how to write as well and the two began to slowly share some mutual feelings for one another. However, it wasn't meant to be, it seemed that some of his fellow orcs were either jealous of his relationship with the elf, or simply hated that she was changing Erjak into something a bit more... civilized. One day, when Erjak returned from yet another raid with a heap of books and trinkets that looked interesting, he was greeted at the entrance of his village by half a dozen orcs standing in his path, on the shoulders of one of the orcs resting a body mangled and mutilated beyond recognition. Said orc tossed the body before a very confused Erjak, who stared at not knowing what to think about it. It was a while until the orc in front finally spoke "We had fun with your little elven toy!" and when he spoke, it took only a moment for Erjak's emotions to do a complete turn. He was angry... very angry, so angry, that he barely remembered letting himself loose upon the orcs in front of him, slaughtering them with great savagery, doing to their bodies what the orcs had done to his elven's friends body and then some more. The rest of the tribe said that he spent over half a day mauling their bodies with his axe before he finally recovered from the rage. And when he did, he got his nickname by his fellow kinsman, henceforth, he was known as Erjak the Savage. After that, he realized that his people were savage beyond belief, he needed to change them if he were to avoid situations like these from ever happening again and the only way to do that was to usurp the leadership of the horde's from the current overall leader, the Warlock. And so, to gain the leadership of his people, he infiltrated the Warlock's army, figuring that someone with his skills and renown in killing would do well in such an army. Goals: - Taking lead of his people - Teaching his people of his more peaceful ways... by force if necessary - Acquiring more books to study from, and possibly learning the elven language - Finding any possible elven relation of his former elven friend
52,736	1,433	11	2,036	2,453	As he continued to march, Morkus heard someone call out to him. "Join my warband" the voice commanded. Morkus turned towards the voice to see an Gorman as the source. "This way" he said as he continued on with a few other following him. Morkus could have easily ignored Gorman. He could have simply just not followed the captain. Morkus was easily strong enough to thwart coercion attempts Gorman could have made to get him in line. Morkus might have even been able to wrest Gorman's captaincy away from him and claim it for his own. But if Morkus were capable of such ambitious thoughts, he would have been much higher up the ladder by now. "...Ok" Morkus said simply after a moment and began following Gorman, ignoring the sound in his head that had started up again.	Name: Morkus Species: Orc Age: 24 Gender: Male Appearance Specialization: Fighter Backstory: Up to this point, Morkus' life had been pretty uneventful for him by Fellmore standards. For as long as he could remember (About 4 years.) Morkus had been the big tough stupid guy for a small warband. Though he stood a head or 3 above his peers in terms of strength, durability, and fighting prowess, Morkus had a very limited thought process that kept thoughts of using his physical gifts to kill, clobber, and bully his way up the chain of command from ever crossing his mind. Instead he just sat around doing sweet FA unless someone yelled at him to do something. But then 1 day something happened to Morkus that wasn't at all normal. Morkus' warband had joined forces with another warband for an ambitious raid on a human farming village a scout had found after exploring a cave tunnel that led out of Fellmore. But on the day of the raid, their passage through the cave was blocked by a well dressed human with 1 eye. Sword in 1 hand and magic in the other, the human decimated the orcs. However, the human had great difficulty defeating Morkus. After a 4 hour battle though, Morkus seemed to gain the upper hand. But before he could strike the final blow, the human cast a strange purple aura on Morkus and everything went dark. When Morkus woke up, he was back in Fellmore and was hearing an odd sound in his head. He then spent the next few weeks wandering Fellmore before being recruited into the Warlock's army. Current Character Development Goal: Find out what that annoying sound is and how to make it stop.
52,737	1,433	12	612	2,191	TROJAN was translating the Warlock's speech for those who could not understand, recording it word for word in a rather large book at the same time, even by Bugbear standards. Books were a rare piece in Fellmore, so it held a religious-like value to him, its pages never to be tarnished with the scribbles of incomplete tactics or non-sensible junk. No, TROJAN's book only contained the most important tactics, memories, and notes for the Bugbear's success in the wild lands of Fellmore. He also took great offence to people calling it a "diary". As the order to march was given, TROJAN closed his book and followed suit compliantly. However, he quickly came to a realisation. There wasn't as much order as he would have liked. Many warbands were in the process of forming, and many more leftover soldiers were simply moving ahead without much direction. It left the bugbear confused, startled. Looking around aimlessly and without guidance, he may be spotted among the crowd by a certain Gorman, looking for the inept.	Name: TROJAN! Species: Bugbear Age: 10 Gender: Male Specialization: Cleric Tragic Backstory: Trojan is... not like most Bugbears, to say the least. He can read and write fluently, is bilingual in the common tongue and goblin tongue, a devout academic (despite being largely impaired compared to more intelligent races), and capable of healing magic. Who knew? He was raised by a cleric (of Meriadar if this has any connection to D&D), who was on a quest around Fellmore to persuade its people to take up a more relaxed and spiritual way of life. Trojan, who at the time didn't have a name, was largely barbaric: always breaking things from a young age and never able to understand anything the cleric tried to teach him. Whenever he thinks back, Trojan is unable to comprehend how the priest had so much patience. Through some stroke of luck, Trojan began connecting the dots, learning how to read and write and eventually becoming quite the intellectual in exceptional time. The cleric herself was confused about how he could learn so much so quickly, however attributed it to Trojan being a special kind of bugbear. Trojan was also taught how to love, to treat others fairly, and act in a mostly civilised manner (he still can't quite help himself at the table). As strange a case as this was, life was good for Trojan. Odd, but good. Two years ago, however, Trojan lost the one and only real person he'd come to know: the cleric. It was Trojan's physical strength that left him unable to protect her; Trojan was under-developed physically, and couldn't protect her from a fire which engulfed the house they stayed. Enraged with himself, Trojan turned feral, his barbaric nature causing him to grow more muscle over time and his academic meeting almost slipping his mind. He almost would have lost himself completely, had he not seen a vision at near-death, kicking his mind back into gear. It had been a little over a years worth of not studying. But in that time, he had become a lot more proficient in hitting people with big sticks and smashing them on the ground, if they managed to annoy him. As such, he took up the spear, though generally fights without the pointed edge. His rehabilitation into intelligent life has bee difficult, especially without a guide, however he's trying his best to get back in the groove. Currently he can read children's stories with ease, and can do some pretty good math. He's quite physically adept, though has since lost some of his strength to study, and is trying to maintain a balance. Oddly his knowledge of tactics hasn't inched forward nor backward, and remains as proficient in giving orders as he always has, which is pretty good. He has recently infiltrated the Warlock's army, aiming to convert those within the ranks to becoming more intelligent, more peaceful, following in his mentor's footsteps. Goals: - Learn how to do more complex mathematics and finish a large novel. - Maintain his training and become better at handling a staff. He has the strength, but lacks technique compared to some. - Help those alongside him walk a line of peace and companionship.
52,738	1,433	13	2,492	758	As the newly-recruited orcs formed into warbands, Gorman spotted a bugbear struggling to find his place. He tapped the creature on the shoulder. "You. You're with me." He turned around to find another orc standing in front of him. "Hello, fellow orc! I assume you are Gorman?" it said. Gorman folded his arms and shifted his jaw. "Fellow orc? You speak as if we're a rarity. You-" He stopped when he realized that this orc had his axe slung free, as if he was itching for a fight. Perhaps some more tact was in order. "-are hilarious." Given that they stood in the middle of an army of orcs, perhaps the orc really meant to be funny by implying uniqueness. So he grinned. "Yes, you assumed correctly. Who're you?" "I am Erjak. You may know of me as the Erjak the Savage. I hope you do not mind me discussing a few things with you while we march towards our target?" "Well-met, never heard of you, and no, I don't mind. Walk with me." Gorman motioned for everyone to follow him and fell in step with the rest of the army. As they marched, he glanced back. "Dunno if the rest of you heard, so I'm Captain Gorman. I reckon you all are here 'cause the Warlock brought you here. Fantastic. Tell me your names and a little about yourselves. Might as well get some use out of this droll marching time. We'll start with you, Savage."	* Name: Gorman * Species: Orc * Age: 50 * Gender: Male * Specialization: Fighter * Tragic Backstory: On one fateful night, when the annual thunderstorm soaked the Wasteland, the High Priestess went into labor with her first child. After hours of struggling to push him out, it is said that the midwife reached in to pull him out instead. The child latched onto her hand with such unnatural strength that she had to withdraw him arms-first. Legend has it that the moment he breathed his first breath, a lightning strike startled everyone in the room. But the child was the only one who didn't flinch. Instead, he pumped his fist in the air in defiance. Regardless of the truth of this story, legends surrounded the young orc from the very first years of his life. He supposedly popped the head of a kobold when he was three, defeated a platoon of goblins when he was ten, and defended his village from an invading orc army all by himself when he was twenty. The truth was a bit less glorious, but he made no attempt to stifle the legends - they were his shield against contenders. Despite having a talent for killing, he sought to live a more peaceful life, taking up architecture since entering adulthood. For many years, he and his team of builders constructed cities of rammed-earth and cobblestone all across Fellmore. His work was reputed to be of the highest quality, able to withstand both sieges and soaking thunderstorms. His wealthier clients appreciated his attention to detail, and his decorative work brought him to the feet of lords. But the peace was not to last. An alliance of humans and elves marched through Fellmore killing everything in their path. The reigning King of Fellmore drafted every able-bodied soul to the defense forces, including all of Gorman's employees. Every one of them died in the battle. Gorman was assigned to guard the King, and when the enemy finally routed the Fellmoran forces, Gorman reportedly absorbed nearly a dozen arrows before succumbing to his wounds. But the King perished anyway. Gorman wanted to die. But to his dismay, he did not. When the Warlock seized control of Fellmore, he heard tales of the orc's exploits and healed him. Now that he owed his life to the Warlock, Gorman had no choice but to live on. And if he was going to live, he decided he might as well take his revenge on the vicious elves that slew all his friends. Seized with this newfound reason for life, he accepted a position as Captain of a warband and trained to regain his fighting skills dulled from disuse. * Character Development Goals: Gorman views the other races with stereotypical prejudice. To him, elves are merely conniving snakes, humans are extra-wimpy elves, and dwarves are drunken idiots. All of them are gutless murderers in his eyes. He refuses to see them as people. Over time, though, circumstances will force him to face this issue and answer some tough questions about who he is and what he believes in.
52,739	1,433	14	461	1,089	Erjak smiled, even though combat was probably unlikely at this point, he still kept his axe ready, orcs weren't exactly known for their patience and what he was about to propose was something that could be misinterpreted as treason by less reasonable orc. Upon hearing that Gorman had not heard of him, he shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe I'm only known in my home area..." he shook his head however and got to the point. "I understand that you may hate other species and to be truthful, I don't care about most other species either, not even orcs like me and you, however-" he took a deep breath and made sure to choose his words carefully "- if we capture any elf in the future, I want them to translate an elven book I have from a deceased elven friend of mine." he realized as soon as he said the words that Gorman might react badly to those words, however, he was not about to betray her memory by speaking of her as a slave. "And another thing, though you may have been assigned as my commander, I listen only to the orders of those I respect, but since I do not know you at all-" he stopped and analyzed the man before him and continued to speak. "- I need to know what you think of both orcs and other species as well... though this inquiry may have already been answered." he looked on the Gorman and waited for his response, still alert in case combat was about to break out, Gorman was a bit bigger than him, so he needed to be very careful.	Name: Erjak the Savage Species: Orc Age: 24 Gender: Male Specialization: Warrior Tragic Backstory: If one were to look at Erjak from the distance, standing solemnly with his axe leaning on his back, one might think that this orc is different from the rest of his kinsmen, more calm and collected, smarter than most of his peers and maybe one to be a leading example of how his people should act... he's only halfway there. Needless to say, being nicknamed the Savage by a race of savage people that know only war shows that Erjak is anything but a calm orc, though he is smarter than his peers, that does not serve him much when for most of his life he was surrounded by a people killing one another, and for most of his life, he was part of that machine, being especially efficient at killing other people since he was just a child, however, upon meeting his first slave, a young elven woman, he began to slowly change, a bit calmer and bit smarter. Though the slave looked like she had just grown to adulthood, she was much, much older than him, though even under the threat of death she did chose not to reveal her name. Every time he would gain a book, or anything that looked nice, he gleefully brought it before her and asked her to reveal it's history if she knew it. In time, she taught him how to read and even how to write as well and the two began to slowly share some mutual feelings for one another. However, it wasn't meant to be, it seemed that some of his fellow orcs were either jealous of his relationship with the elf, or simply hated that she was changing Erjak into something a bit more... civilized. One day, when Erjak returned from yet another raid with a heap of books and trinkets that looked interesting, he was greeted at the entrance of his village by half a dozen orcs standing in his path, on the shoulders of one of the orcs resting a body mangled and mutilated beyond recognition. Said orc tossed the body before a very confused Erjak, who stared at not knowing what to think about it. It was a while until the orc in front finally spoke "We had fun with your little elven toy!" and when he spoke, it took only a moment for Erjak's emotions to do a complete turn. He was angry... very angry, so angry, that he barely remembered letting himself loose upon the orcs in front of him, slaughtering them with great savagery, doing to their bodies what the orcs had done to his elven's friends body and then some more. The rest of the tribe said that he spent over half a day mauling their bodies with his axe before he finally recovered from the rage. And when he did, he got his nickname by his fellow kinsman, henceforth, he was known as Erjak the Savage. After that, he realized that his people were savage beyond belief, he needed to change them if he were to avoid situations like these from ever happening again and the only way to do that was to usurp the leadership of the horde's from the current overall leader, the Warlock. And so, to gain the leadership of his people, he infiltrated the Warlock's army, figuring that someone with his skills and renown in killing would do well in such an army. Goals: - Taking lead of his people - Teaching his people of his more peaceful ways... by force if necessary - Acquiring more books to study from, and possibly learning the elven language - Finding any possible elven relation of his former elven friend
52,740	1,433	15	570	186	“Names, unimportant. Look forward for change, only change important.” With no other words the woman walked up to Gorman, silent as ever among the loud march of warrior’s around them. She pulled out a small metal needle, as well as a bottle with a labeled piece of paper that said ‘cleaner’. Taking the cap off she dripped a little over the needles edge. “Current leader, can improve make better. Need sample of sequences for potential change.” Though not sounding like a question it was implied as one, still she simply kept pace with the Orc, despite her slight limp. For a large bipedal lizard with what looked like a limp she was moving at a brisk pace. Not for a lack of trying she was more intent on starting the processes of understanding her new ‘squads’ current abilities and working to improve them, but it required samples, samples she was going to get one way or another.	Name: Alarus Species: Kobold Age: 43 Gender: Female Appearance: (I really hate the look of all images...Coloration is more muted; dull black and gray standings. Enough clothing to be covered but the most defining aspect is the skull rested on her head. The Eye sockets are matted or blacked out, with the horns being removed to her’s can poke through. The Skill is hollowed out covering the whole head.) Specialization: Mage Backstory: Didn’t really care much for war, didn’t really care much for anything really. Almost the perfect reason for bliss, ignorance. However thanks to some rather interesting reading and latter understandings of old myths. By every right one would call her an genetic engineer. Learning the ins and outs of other creatures, even her own kind, this also lead to another wonderful title, Monster. As it turns out, learning how to rewrite genetic material is a more delicate art that the mage didn’t quite have at first, and without a goal or idea of what she was doing, ended up dooming the majority of her clan’s lesser families. “Weak, could not withstand alteration, strands insuffant.” After seeing how her work had left the clan she decided it was best to leave and work on others. Perhaps she could find stronger sequences of Genetic material elsewhere, and she wasn’t disappointed. Over her trip she saw many different alteration, even the many creatures in the wasteland. Of course she couldn’t really write it all down so she did the only thing she could think of, using her own DNA to store the sequences but making them latent so they wouldn’t. Unforeseen side effects of working with one's DNA. Pigmentation loss mainly. She had to do away with any kinda ‘waste’ date to make room, the easiest was simple. Moving around for years augmenting and ‘improving’ creatures how she saw fit. Till she got an invite from a rather strange source, The Warlock himself offering her a spot in his army. To her the idea of being able to work on so many creatures at once was something she couldn’t pass up. Witch Doctor, mad Alchemist, insane, just a few nicknames given to her over her time working for The Warlock, however her favorite is something she still uses to this day, a name many would never want to hear for it meant pain, suffering and body augmentation, ‘The Shaman’. * Character Development Goals: Perfection, even though she knows she can never obtain it, only chase it. To quote: “Never Perfect, perfection goal that changes, can chase but never catch.” (Yes speech patterns from her are in this tone.)
52,741	1,433	16	2,492	758	The Present Day, 2751 AD Gwen let out a low "oof" as she dropped the last obsidian piece of the Northaven Tower ruins. Only a few pieces could be accounted for, and many were lost to time or scavenging. The locals referred to the structure with a mixture of reverence and horror, and only bribing them with titanium trinkets loosened their tongues. By all indications, the structure was little more than an older model S9 particle emitter, the kind used during the early Colonization period. Its serial number could still be found on the cornerstone. Imperial records indicated that the unit was lost during the Daemon Invasion of 2120, and black box data showed that it performed admirably. So why all the hatred? The citizens of the nearby town Yoit offered some answers. Some of the older citizens said that their grandparents told stories about how they survived an orc invasion, and some of them even fought in the resultant war. Supposedly, an entire orc army was bred and trained underneath the tower, and then marched south into Aetherion, starting their campaign at Yoit. Gwen retraced their steps. Her feet followed the footsteps of Gorman and his warband as they fought over every inch of the bloodsoaked streets... The Attack on Yoit, 2650 AD Gorman's ears roared with the wild battle cries of his brethren. On either side of him, thousands of orcs charged in unison toward the beleaguered defenders of the elven town. Sweat poured down his skin, and clouds of dirt kicked up from his boots. The Warlock himself led the charge, mounted on his midnight horse with his obsidian blade pointed forward. Bomb arrows exploded at their feet, and dozens of Fellmoran catapults hurled great stones back in reply. The wall ahead shattered, giving them the opening they needed to charge through. With a shout, Gorman leaped onto the wall, crushed an elf archer's head under his foot, and seized his bow. He tossed it to Sen. "Your intel was spot-on! Now go kill something." With that, he punched another elf defender in the face and took his spear and shield. The town is fairly small, with under a hundred clay houses behind the walls and a temple in the center. A few hundred elven archers and a couple hundred fighters are defending. Despite the town's small size, however, it won't be a walk in the park. The citizens and their ancestors have lived here for generations, and they've endured minor orc invasions before. They all know how to fight, so be on your guard. Your orders are to search every house and kill every living thing you find. Archers are still shooting at you from turrets along the walls. Take them out before switching to targets in the town. When Morkus entered a house, his opponent turned out to be a swordsman, a skilled one, if his stance was any indication. His family was huddled in a corner of the room. His wife was holding a frying pan, and she looked like she knew how to use it. Kahl entered a tavern. Half the people there were inebriated. All of them had weapons drawn, but not all of those weapons were the stabby/pokey kind. Erjak entered the tavern with Kahl. Feel free to make an agreement with Kahl to split up the work. Trojan crashed into a house occupied by a female elf blacksmith. Her weapon was a battlehammer. Enjoy. Alarus entered a house whose sole occupant was a young boy. On the back of his hand was a strange X-shaped tattoo. He wielded a dagger and shield. Instinct said this boy was important. Nuggle didn't make it to a house because an elven mage blocked his path with a wall of earth. Take her out. Oreth entered a house occupied by a lone swordsman. He seemed competent, but he was no swordmaster.	* Name: Gorman * Species: Orc * Age: 50 * Gender: Male * Specialization: Fighter * Tragic Backstory: On one fateful night, when the annual thunderstorm soaked the Wasteland, the High Priestess went into labor with her first child. After hours of struggling to push him out, it is said that the midwife reached in to pull him out instead. The child latched onto her hand with such unnatural strength that she had to withdraw him arms-first. Legend has it that the moment he breathed his first breath, a lightning strike startled everyone in the room. But the child was the only one who didn't flinch. Instead, he pumped his fist in the air in defiance. Regardless of the truth of this story, legends surrounded the young orc from the very first years of his life. He supposedly popped the head of a kobold when he was three, defeated a platoon of goblins when he was ten, and defended his village from an invading orc army all by himself when he was twenty. The truth was a bit less glorious, but he made no attempt to stifle the legends - they were his shield against contenders. Despite having a talent for killing, he sought to live a more peaceful life, taking up architecture since entering adulthood. For many years, he and his team of builders constructed cities of rammed-earth and cobblestone all across Fellmore. His work was reputed to be of the highest quality, able to withstand both sieges and soaking thunderstorms. His wealthier clients appreciated his attention to detail, and his decorative work brought him to the feet of lords. But the peace was not to last. An alliance of humans and elves marched through Fellmore killing everything in their path. The reigning King of Fellmore drafted every able-bodied soul to the defense forces, including all of Gorman's employees. Every one of them died in the battle. Gorman was assigned to guard the King, and when the enemy finally routed the Fellmoran forces, Gorman reportedly absorbed nearly a dozen arrows before succumbing to his wounds. But the King perished anyway. Gorman wanted to die. But to his dismay, he did not. When the Warlock seized control of Fellmore, he heard tales of the orc's exploits and healed him. Now that he owed his life to the Warlock, Gorman had no choice but to live on. And if he was going to live, he decided he might as well take his revenge on the vicious elves that slew all his friends. Seized with this newfound reason for life, he accepted a position as Captain of a warband and trained to regain his fighting skills dulled from disuse. * Character Development Goals: Gorman views the other races with stereotypical prejudice. To him, elves are merely conniving snakes, humans are extra-wimpy elves, and dwarves are drunken idiots. All of them are gutless murderers in his eyes. He refuses to see them as people. Over time, though, circumstances will force him to face this issue and answer some tough questions about who he is and what he believes in.
52,742	1,433	17	565	507	Thanks to her little scouting mission, the orc forces were better prepared to take down the elven town that stood before them. Of course, with the Warlock here their victory was already assured, but a little intel can go a long way. Sen climbed up to her feet at the wall and turned when Gorman tossed her the bow of a poor elven archer he just crushed. "Your intel was spot-on! Now go kill something." No need to tell her twice, it's what she was trained to do. A lone arrow shot down at her and grazed her cheek, she turned and narrowed her eyes at the archer that had shot her from the turret on the wall. Without hesitation, Sen let loose an arrow that met it's mark in the archer's head. Putting her newly acquired bow around her shoulder she climbed up the turret and proceeded to deal with any other archers that were firing down from it. Her blood was pumping now, no one could stop the coming bloodshed. Sorry for not being here, life has just been kicking me in the rear for the past month	Name: Sen Ignis Species: Kobold Age: 25 Gender: Female Specialization: Ranger Tragic Backstory: Parents were killed by a tunnel cave-in that was deliberately caused by a rival clan. Sen now hates every other kobold clan besides her own. Now serves as a merciless, emotionless killer in the Warlock's army. Character Development Goals: For Sen to actually regain her feelings and to learn something new besides killing.
52,743	1,433	18	612	2,191	TROJAN's introduction was simple, and went through the usual process of roaring out his name as loudly as possible, before calmly and a lot more quietly apologising for the fact that he was raised to announce his presence as such. His old 'mentor', as he put it, taught him the values of pride in ones name, and so he often roared his name out of respect for her. He didn't offer much more of an explanation than that, seeing as they had a march to do. TROJAN had read all about Yolt, and was genuinely curious as to how it had managed to avoid large-scale invasion by bandits. Clay wasn't necessarily the hardiest of materials, so it wasn't like orc bandits couldn't demolish the place quickly. He suspected that the most fortified aspect of the town would be its temple in the center, and made sure to mention it to those who would listen as a passing thought. Before that news could pass far, however, they had arrived. TROJAN wasn't quite at the head of the charge as the wall came down, but was not far behind. He could see that the archers would easily be overwhelmed by the present force, so unlike those that broke off to challenge the archers, he continued into the town of Yolt to do what was to be done. His instincts were beginning to kick in, nostrils flaring up as he felt his muscles begin to tense. He was nervous, however that anxiety kept the bugbear on his toes, and consequently out of a savage state. He chose his house to invade carefully - he wouldn't choose someone who could potentially have a family, as Trojan's aim was to spare any villagers he could. He also decided to find a house further from the invasion force to increase an occupant's chance of escape. With that in mind, his eyes scanned for a potential target, before his eyes found themselves on a blacksmith's home, the forge outside a dead giveaway. Body and mind filled with adrenaline, TROJAN charged towards his mark... Due to his sheer size, the force of his charge not only broke down the door, but also part of the wall which came with it. It was... quite the surprise for him, because he didn't think he was big enough to take down a wall, even one made of clay. However he chose to focus before he became too distracted by the accomplishment - he had work to do. His spear was angled diagonally in front of him, so to cover a broader area. The pointed tip was directed towards the roof of the clay building, just above TROJAN's shoulder, with the blunt end facing the floor. He would roar, but decided against it. It would make him look bad if he acted too savage, after all. He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I didn't think that would happen." He made sure he said what he needed to quickly, as the person before him probably wanted to slam his ribs into the floor. His gruff tone might have sounded a little odd as his accent sounded largely more human, so that might have made him a little easier to understand for the elven blacksmith. "Run. Quickly. Get everyone from the area out. Their lives may depend on your choice." He would try to avoid killing her if he could; knock her out if possible. But, if he became seriously hurt, he would not hesitate to retaliate. 'You must live, TROJAN... That's what she told you to do.'	Name: TROJAN! Species: Bugbear Age: 10 Gender: Male Specialization: Cleric Tragic Backstory: Trojan is... not like most Bugbears, to say the least. He can read and write fluently, is bilingual in the common tongue and goblin tongue, a devout academic (despite being largely impaired compared to more intelligent races), and capable of healing magic. Who knew? He was raised by a cleric (of Meriadar if this has any connection to D&D), who was on a quest around Fellmore to persuade its people to take up a more relaxed and spiritual way of life. Trojan, who at the time didn't have a name, was largely barbaric: always breaking things from a young age and never able to understand anything the cleric tried to teach him. Whenever he thinks back, Trojan is unable to comprehend how the priest had so much patience. Through some stroke of luck, Trojan began connecting the dots, learning how to read and write and eventually becoming quite the intellectual in exceptional time. The cleric herself was confused about how he could learn so much so quickly, however attributed it to Trojan being a special kind of bugbear. Trojan was also taught how to love, to treat others fairly, and act in a mostly civilised manner (he still can't quite help himself at the table). As strange a case as this was, life was good for Trojan. Odd, but good. Two years ago, however, Trojan lost the one and only real person he'd come to know: the cleric. It was Trojan's physical strength that left him unable to protect her; Trojan was under-developed physically, and couldn't protect her from a fire which engulfed the house they stayed. Enraged with himself, Trojan turned feral, his barbaric nature causing him to grow more muscle over time and his academic meeting almost slipping his mind. He almost would have lost himself completely, had he not seen a vision at near-death, kicking his mind back into gear. It had been a little over a years worth of not studying. But in that time, he had become a lot more proficient in hitting people with big sticks and smashing them on the ground, if they managed to annoy him. As such, he took up the spear, though generally fights without the pointed edge. His rehabilitation into intelligent life has bee difficult, especially without a guide, however he's trying his best to get back in the groove. Currently he can read children's stories with ease, and can do some pretty good math. He's quite physically adept, though has since lost some of his strength to study, and is trying to maintain a balance. Oddly his knowledge of tactics hasn't inched forward nor backward, and remains as proficient in giving orders as he always has, which is pretty good. He has recently infiltrated the Warlock's army, aiming to convert those within the ranks to becoming more intelligent, more peaceful, following in his mentor's footsteps. Goals: - Learn how to do more complex mathematics and finish a large novel. - Maintain his training and become better at handling a staff. He has the strength, but lacks technique compared to some. - Help those alongside him walk a line of peace and companionship.
52,744	1,433	19	2,610	346	Not that it mattered what kind of weapons his opponent were using; he wasn't wearing plate today, so he'd just have to avoid getting hit as much as possible. As far as Kahl could remember, elven warriors were of superior dexterity to most others. But against a bar of drunken civilians...well, they were just softer, skinnier Orcs. A good pint of ale was about the same as having the same thick skin and half the brain of one of his brothers. One of the Orcs () from his warband was standing next to him. There might have been an introduction some time ago, but the names didn't really matter. "The order said subjugation, right? Do what you want." That being said, Kahl wasn't going wait; he had spent years mastering the art of patience and cunning. Today, he was going to embrace the fiery pain of an up-front skirmish, so he drew his blade -- a bastard sword equivalent for an Orc -- and raised it to block the first offender's attack.	Hobgoblin \| New Blood (20) \| Male Image to be added later 5'5 \| 150 lbs. Fighter Background : Kahl was born the child of one of the select few hobgoblins chosen to monitor the Orcs after a great majority of them had sworn fealty to Vanarys. As such, he was supposed to be a bit sharper than even the average hobgoblin (at least, that's what would be the expected result from two well-performing soldiers), but then one of the many Orc uprisings had to go and kill his parents. This happened during the days before the Orc society solidified its change into one of brutes; out of mercy granted by one of the last old Orc shamans, Kahl was spared in his infancy and was raised alongside his much larger siblings. Being smarter and quicker to develop, Kahl was able to secure his own footing in the hierarchy of his cohorts by being more deft, more intelligent, and much less predictable in all aspects : war games, eating, learning, socializing. Whereas Orcs would easily take a beating for breakfast with a knuckle-sandwich for a snack, Kahl didn't get nearly as beat as often as the others. Whatever the new Orc generation suffered through, Kahl seemed to get through less scathed than others. It was no wonder that he came to be among the more promising of candidates when almost all Orcs were full integrated into the army. He had wit and capability beyond the standard thick-skin, and if his heritage had been true as his capability, he would have made an excellent battlemage. Unfortunately, a regular tussle with his supposed blood-sister resulted in him breaking his arm. At this, the overseeing Hobgoblin finally discerned Kahl's real heritage (in spite of the fact that he was a good 20-30 pounds heavier than most his species and age) and had him transferred to the main Legion. The damage, unfortunately, had already been done; Kahl was not going to be able to take up a new trade over one he already was extremely good at, which was being a damn good warrrior. All Kahl needed to do was prove himself he would be as good as the people that raised him and not the scum he was born of. Objective : Prove himself. No picture as of yet; may make my own if it comes to it.
52,745	1,433	20	461	1,089	Erjak stared at the inebriated defenders for a few moment before turning his sight towards Kahl and grinned briefly and hearing the word subjugated before turning towards the defenders with a glare that would make even fellow orcs cower. He drew as much breath in as he could let out the loudest, most inhuman roar he could muster, he figured the drunken fighters would probably surrender, after all, nobody here wanted to die and he did not want to kill elves if he could help it, it would leave a bad taste in his mouth if he had to. "IF ANY OF YOU RESIST, I WILL PERSONALLY MAKE SURE TO CLEAVE YOU ALL IN HALF, OR MY NAME IS NOT ERJAK THE SAVAGE!" he roared, he figured the elves might have heard of him, he often led bloody raids into the elven lands near Yoit, in one of those raids he had gotten a hold of his dear former friend. Still, if the elves chose to resist, he was already prepared to swing his battleaxe at them and hoped that the first few deaths would cow the few remaining elves into submission, if not... his bloody beserker rage would definitely make short work of them, it had dealt with a dozen battle-hardened orcs, he figured that it would deal with a few drunken elves armed with makeshift blunt weaponry, he was confident in his skills, he was not sure of Kahl however, he had not seen him fight yet... hopefully he would prove to be a powerful warrior and one he could confidently call brother.	Name: Erjak the Savage Species: Orc Age: 24 Gender: Male Specialization: Warrior Tragic Backstory: If one were to look at Erjak from the distance, standing solemnly with his axe leaning on his back, one might think that this orc is different from the rest of his kinsmen, more calm and collected, smarter than most of his peers and maybe one to be a leading example of how his people should act... he's only halfway there. Needless to say, being nicknamed the Savage by a race of savage people that know only war shows that Erjak is anything but a calm orc, though he is smarter than his peers, that does not serve him much when for most of his life he was surrounded by a people killing one another, and for most of his life, he was part of that machine, being especially efficient at killing other people since he was just a child, however, upon meeting his first slave, a young elven woman, he began to slowly change, a bit calmer and bit smarter. Though the slave looked like she had just grown to adulthood, she was much, much older than him, though even under the threat of death she did chose not to reveal her name. Every time he would gain a book, or anything that looked nice, he gleefully brought it before her and asked her to reveal it's history if she knew it. In time, she taught him how to read and even how to write as well and the two began to slowly share some mutual feelings for one another. However, it wasn't meant to be, it seemed that some of his fellow orcs were either jealous of his relationship with the elf, or simply hated that she was changing Erjak into something a bit more... civilized. One day, when Erjak returned from yet another raid with a heap of books and trinkets that looked interesting, he was greeted at the entrance of his village by half a dozen orcs standing in his path, on the shoulders of one of the orcs resting a body mangled and mutilated beyond recognition. Said orc tossed the body before a very confused Erjak, who stared at not knowing what to think about it. It was a while until the orc in front finally spoke "We had fun with your little elven toy!" and when he spoke, it took only a moment for Erjak's emotions to do a complete turn. He was angry... very angry, so angry, that he barely remembered letting himself loose upon the orcs in front of him, slaughtering them with great savagery, doing to their bodies what the orcs had done to his elven's friends body and then some more. The rest of the tribe said that he spent over half a day mauling their bodies with his axe before he finally recovered from the rage. And when he did, he got his nickname by his fellow kinsman, henceforth, he was known as Erjak the Savage. After that, he realized that his people were savage beyond belief, he needed to change them if he were to avoid situations like these from ever happening again and the only way to do that was to usurp the leadership of the horde's from the current overall leader, the Warlock. And so, to gain the leadership of his people, he infiltrated the Warlock's army, figuring that someone with his skills and renown in killing would do well in such an army. Goals: - Taking lead of his people - Teaching his people of his more peaceful ways... by force if necessary - Acquiring more books to study from, and possibly learning the elven language - Finding any possible elven relation of his former elven friend
52,746	1,433	21	570	186	A wall, designed to keep out invaders, protect those inside, a place where watchmen could sight danger before it came, but most importantly the first line of defense when it came to to invasion. Still for as impressive a structure it was, it had limits to what it could keep out. If the Invaders felt brave they could besiege the wall with rope or ladder to try and preserve it if they intended on taking the city. Perhaps they could make a small hole and funnel people in quietly, or in the case of the Orc’s break down a sizable chunk and push in full force. Alarus, on the other hand, had decided instead of directly rushing into battle it was best the Mage move undetected while she did her best to manipulate the battlefield. Sublet things were sometimes the most important aspect of a fight and in her case it was moving around the back lines, ‘recovering’ biomass for her more, zealous, hobby of changing people to make them more suitable for battle. Or take out threats that would become harder to handle later. By the Orc’s ideals what she did would be considered cowardly for not looking another warrior in the eye when killing them, but she was by no means strong enough to take on another in a -fair- fight with someone trained in the art of war. Instead she did was instinct and self preservation had trained her kind to do long before the Warlock altered their DNA. She took to the earth. Making an underground walkway by moving the dirt and rock around. Of course it wasn’t perfect but with a slight change to her own DNA and adding a little more density to her claws made them perfect for the job at hand, Tunneling. As for when she knew to reach up and take someone under, well her eyes weren't left unchanged. So far she had already taken a good few of the City's defenders underground only leaving their heads exposed while they screamed from the rended flesh and consumption that happened below. Only a handful managed to be pulled back up from the head huntresses grip, but none escaped her in full. Legs, arms, and for the rare few fingers and toes. At this point she was more or less collecting food so she could keep going and offhandedly taking in samples of biomass for mutations and alterations. Yet as her little hunt kept going the guardsmen got wise and quickly called in for the City’s Magic uses to look for her underground. Not being the fool and after nearly losing her tail to a mage with a keen eye she decided the little game of hide and seek best be put to rest before it cost her more than she could bare to lose in a siege. Getting behind the enemy lines as quickly and quietly as she could the Kobold emerged from her tunnel work different than before. Instead of the smooth scaled body she had, it was now rough and coarse with spines arched backwards, jetting from her back. A simple alteration of her natural DNA resulted in a harder more efficient means to handle the tunneling and rending of metal and flesh. It did have it’s downsides, for now she looked more feral and deranged as opposed to the normally calm and ‘harmless’ look. Still at least she was clothed, or at least what she counted as clothed. Enough cover on the top wrappings around the mid, arms to hands, and legs down as well as her skull which she was never without. Going behind one of the homes she quickly peaked around to make sure no one had spotted her yet then quickly slipped in, however she soon found she was not alone in the wood be abandoned section of town. A Youth from the looks of it, one who seemed to be able to wield a weapon and shield. Perhaps too young for what he was looking at, an abomination created out of augmentation. Still what stood out to her wasn’t the fact he seemed competent enough to raise a blade to her, but the marking on his hand. Something felt amiss, the marking seemed to imply something that nagged at her mind, for what little it held with the boys survival changes against her at the moment. It was like a dog who had come across a dragon with nothing more than fangs and a loud bark. Taking a deep breath she decided it was best to drop the mono-tone for just a moment if anything perhaps she could dissuade the boy into lowering his armaments. With the calmest, animated voice she could muster given the light of the moment she looked at the child. “I would sway thine arms youth. A Shaman of the hills seek shelter from the moment. Would thee allow me a moment of inquiry, why are thine here and a name, if I may be so bold?”	Name: Alarus Species: Kobold Age: 43 Gender: Female Appearance: (I really hate the look of all images...Coloration is more muted; dull black and gray standings. Enough clothing to be covered but the most defining aspect is the skull rested on her head. The Eye sockets are matted or blacked out, with the horns being removed to her’s can poke through. The Skill is hollowed out covering the whole head.) Specialization: Mage Backstory: Didn’t really care much for war, didn’t really care much for anything really. Almost the perfect reason for bliss, ignorance. However thanks to some rather interesting reading and latter understandings of old myths. By every right one would call her an genetic engineer. Learning the ins and outs of other creatures, even her own kind, this also lead to another wonderful title, Monster. As it turns out, learning how to rewrite genetic material is a more delicate art that the mage didn’t quite have at first, and without a goal or idea of what she was doing, ended up dooming the majority of her clan’s lesser families. “Weak, could not withstand alteration, strands insuffant.” After seeing how her work had left the clan she decided it was best to leave and work on others. Perhaps she could find stronger sequences of Genetic material elsewhere, and she wasn’t disappointed. Over her trip she saw many different alteration, even the many creatures in the wasteland. Of course she couldn’t really write it all down so she did the only thing she could think of, using her own DNA to store the sequences but making them latent so they wouldn’t. Unforeseen side effects of working with one's DNA. Pigmentation loss mainly. She had to do away with any kinda ‘waste’ date to make room, the easiest was simple. Moving around for years augmenting and ‘improving’ creatures how she saw fit. Till she got an invite from a rather strange source, The Warlock himself offering her a spot in his army. To her the idea of being able to work on so many creatures at once was something she couldn’t pass up. Witch Doctor, mad Alchemist, insane, just a few nicknames given to her over her time working for The Warlock, however her favorite is something she still uses to this day, a name many would never want to hear for it meant pain, suffering and body augmentation, ‘The Shaman’. * Character Development Goals: Perfection, even though she knows she can never obtain it, only chase it. To quote: “Never Perfect, perfection goal that changes, can chase but never catch.” (Yes speech patterns from her are in this tone.)
52,747	1,433	22	2,036	2,453	For the most part, Morkus wasn't have that hard a time. Attacking places was nothing new to him after all that time he spent with his old warband. And with his exceptional physical prowess, he cut through the defenders like a hot knife through butter. Soon enough, Morkus reached his 1st house and kicked down its door to begin his search for occupants to kill. Morkus didn't have to search for long. He quickly found a swordsman standing ready to defend his family, with his wife acting as the last line of defense should her husband fall. Weapons drawn, Morkus charged forwards, jumped into the air, and brought his swords down on the swordsman, who blocked Morkus' blades with his own. Morkus attempted to knee the swordsman in the groin with bone breaking force while he was distracted, but the swordsman had anticipated this. Instead of causing the swordsman debilitating pain, a steel groin guard rendered the underhanded tactic useless Seizing the opportunity, the swordsman pushed Morkus away and then charged forwards in an attempt to skewer the orc. Morkus deflected the blade and ducked the sucker punch the swordsman attempted before preemptively rolling away from any counter attack Morkus might have made otherwise. Now understandably bothered by this turn of events, Morkus began to slash at the swordsman from all possible directions. The swordsman stood his ground and blocked all incoming blows like they were nothing. Noticing an opening as Morkus' slashing frenzy ended, the swordsman began a slashing frenzy of his own. However, Morkus was just as good at blocking as the swordsman. Upon noticing a subtle opening, Morkus moved in for a decapitating blow. But the swordsman reacted quickly enough to duck Morkus' blades and slash at the orc's stomach. Morkus managed to move away quickly enough to avoid the blade though. Capitalizing on Morkus' backwards motion, the swordsman advanced on the orc, the 2 continuing to trade blows as they moved about the room. A few rounds later, the swordsman made a face like he had just thought of something and began to prioritize pushing Morkus back. Lacking the intelligence necessary to decipher facial expression meanings or detect unexpected traps while focusing on combat, Morkus took the bait and backed up until he was struck on the back of the head by a blunt object and sent sprawling onto the floor. The blow Morkus had received made the sound in his head even louder than usual. He even thought he could make out a voice, but he couldn't make out what it was saying if that was indeed a voice. When he got up, the swordsman and his family were gone. Morkus searched the entire room, but they were nowhere to be found. "Must have run off" Morkus said to himself as he left the house, not once thinking that he should also check the other rooms.	Name: Morkus Species: Orc Age: 24 Gender: Male Appearance Specialization: Fighter Backstory: Up to this point, Morkus' life had been pretty uneventful for him by Fellmore standards. For as long as he could remember (About 4 years.) Morkus had been the big tough stupid guy for a small warband. Though he stood a head or 3 above his peers in terms of strength, durability, and fighting prowess, Morkus had a very limited thought process that kept thoughts of using his physical gifts to kill, clobber, and bully his way up the chain of command from ever crossing his mind. Instead he just sat around doing sweet FA unless someone yelled at him to do something. But then 1 day something happened to Morkus that wasn't at all normal. Morkus' warband had joined forces with another warband for an ambitious raid on a human farming village a scout had found after exploring a cave tunnel that led out of Fellmore. But on the day of the raid, their passage through the cave was blocked by a well dressed human with 1 eye. Sword in 1 hand and magic in the other, the human decimated the orcs. However, the human had great difficulty defeating Morkus. After a 4 hour battle though, Morkus seemed to gain the upper hand. But before he could strike the final blow, the human cast a strange purple aura on Morkus and everything went dark. When Morkus woke up, he was back in Fellmore and was hearing an odd sound in his head. He then spent the next few weeks wandering Fellmore before being recruited into the Warlock's army. Current Character Development Goal: Find out what that annoying sound is and how to make it stop.
52,748	1,433	23	2,492	758	The elven blacksmith gaped at him for a moment. Then she closed her mouth and ran past him without another word. The sober patrons were already parsing every word he said. If any of them resisted, all of them would be killed. Not a promising deal, given that half the patrons were drunk and itching for a fight. So all of them took up arms and rushed the enemy. Bottles, chairs, clubs, and swords came swinging at the two orcs. The rest of the family had, in fact, run out of the house entirely, and they escaped with the elven blacksmith. "W- With my- with my grandparents." He declined to provide a name. Gorman, meanwhile, tore a human spearfighter away from the corpse of another orc and ripped his head off with a sickening crack. When the blood shower cleared, he noticed a couple members of his warband letting their targets run away. He overheard Erjak shout a warning to the bar patrons. Gorman clenched his fist. Spirits slay him if he let those traitorous orcs get away with that. Starting with Alarus. He gripped her by the top of her skull and grumbled, "Just what do you think you're doing?"	* Name: Gorman * Species: Orc * Age: 50 * Gender: Male * Specialization: Fighter * Tragic Backstory: On one fateful night, when the annual thunderstorm soaked the Wasteland, the High Priestess went into labor with her first child. After hours of struggling to push him out, it is said that the midwife reached in to pull him out instead. The child latched onto her hand with such unnatural strength that she had to withdraw him arms-first. Legend has it that the moment he breathed his first breath, a lightning strike startled everyone in the room. But the child was the only one who didn't flinch. Instead, he pumped his fist in the air in defiance. Regardless of the truth of this story, legends surrounded the young orc from the very first years of his life. He supposedly popped the head of a kobold when he was three, defeated a platoon of goblins when he was ten, and defended his village from an invading orc army all by himself when he was twenty. The truth was a bit less glorious, but he made no attempt to stifle the legends - they were his shield against contenders. Despite having a talent for killing, he sought to live a more peaceful life, taking up architecture since entering adulthood. For many years, he and his team of builders constructed cities of rammed-earth and cobblestone all across Fellmore. His work was reputed to be of the highest quality, able to withstand both sieges and soaking thunderstorms. His wealthier clients appreciated his attention to detail, and his decorative work brought him to the feet of lords. But the peace was not to last. An alliance of humans and elves marched through Fellmore killing everything in their path. The reigning King of Fellmore drafted every able-bodied soul to the defense forces, including all of Gorman's employees. Every one of them died in the battle. Gorman was assigned to guard the King, and when the enemy finally routed the Fellmoran forces, Gorman reportedly absorbed nearly a dozen arrows before succumbing to his wounds. But the King perished anyway. Gorman wanted to die. But to his dismay, he did not. When the Warlock seized control of Fellmore, he heard tales of the orc's exploits and healed him. Now that he owed his life to the Warlock, Gorman had no choice but to live on. And if he was going to live, he decided he might as well take his revenge on the vicious elves that slew all his friends. Seized with this newfound reason for life, he accepted a position as Captain of a warband and trained to regain his fighting skills dulled from disuse. * Character Development Goals: Gorman views the other races with stereotypical prejudice. To him, elves are merely conniving snakes, humans are extra-wimpy elves, and dwarves are drunken idiots. All of them are gutless murderers in his eyes. He refuses to see them as people. Over time, though, circumstances will force him to face this issue and answer some tough questions about who he is and what he believes in.
52,749	1,433	24	570	186	Feeling her head get pulled back and turned to face her current ‘leader’ she didn’t make a noise, outside of a few popping bones from the stiffness she had from tunnelling. It was one thing to be at a distance and looking into those blank holes of nothing, quite another to be face to face and touching it. Of course the Orc could feel something, faint as it was, but that something was the slow rhythmic beat of her heart. Her naturally cold tone returning to her voice as she spoke to the creature that had her. “Murder, survival. Killing and eating. Research continues despite, current set back.” She didn’t really have a tone of mallus or intent, nor even that of sarcasm, however her intent was there. This child before her was never going to survive when she got close, let alone get away. A lone child with not but a butter knife and a small wooden disk it could barely manage to hold. It was a threat, yet small still a threat and all threats big or small needed to be resolved for they might interrupt her work. With her head still turned away from the boy she smiled slightly. Her current form, despite being more brutish did provide a nice set for fighting, how her leader recognized her was given away by the skull itself. Slowly she reached up and held the headpiece, lowering her body to remove the skill. The sight, was something from a graveyard. Returning to full hunched over height the shaman looked at her captain, what that skull hid was all but right. An eldritch abomination would have described it more accurately. Perhaps another unforeseen side effect of collecting DNA, or sorting it onto one's own, either way what looked back at the man was another skull, with bits of flesh and tendons attached at the jaw and neck to move it around. While her mouth still functioned to feed and nourish, and eyes that still could see the world, what was found in her teeth was the strange part. A sister stone to the one she used for casting, planted right in her jaw, in the fleshy tissue that still persisted if only to hold the teeth in place. She was no reanimation that was sure, and every design she did was for purpose not for looks, this however was the main reason the skull was used to hide her face, or more accurately hide it. Turning to the child she opened her jaw slightly as her tongue licked across the exposed teeth. “Flesh for nourishment, mass for research. This is my work.” That monotone voice and unwavering intent escaped those eyes. Long had any sense of competition been dead in that gaze, on the insatiable hunger for advancing her craft. She could've fixed the problem with her face, but deemed it useless for her ends. Perfection was impossible, but one could always chase it.	Name: Alarus Species: Kobold Age: 43 Gender: Female Appearance: (I really hate the look of all images...Coloration is more muted; dull black and gray standings. Enough clothing to be covered but the most defining aspect is the skull rested on her head. The Eye sockets are matted or blacked out, with the horns being removed to her’s can poke through. The Skill is hollowed out covering the whole head.) Specialization: Mage Backstory: Didn’t really care much for war, didn’t really care much for anything really. Almost the perfect reason for bliss, ignorance. However thanks to some rather interesting reading and latter understandings of old myths. By every right one would call her an genetic engineer. Learning the ins and outs of other creatures, even her own kind, this also lead to another wonderful title, Monster. As it turns out, learning how to rewrite genetic material is a more delicate art that the mage didn’t quite have at first, and without a goal or idea of what she was doing, ended up dooming the majority of her clan’s lesser families. “Weak, could not withstand alteration, strands insuffant.” After seeing how her work had left the clan she decided it was best to leave and work on others. Perhaps she could find stronger sequences of Genetic material elsewhere, and she wasn’t disappointed. Over her trip she saw many different alteration, even the many creatures in the wasteland. Of course she couldn’t really write it all down so she did the only thing she could think of, using her own DNA to store the sequences but making them latent so they wouldn’t. Unforeseen side effects of working with one's DNA. Pigmentation loss mainly. She had to do away with any kinda ‘waste’ date to make room, the easiest was simple. Moving around for years augmenting and ‘improving’ creatures how she saw fit. Till she got an invite from a rather strange source, The Warlock himself offering her a spot in his army. To her the idea of being able to work on so many creatures at once was something she couldn’t pass up. Witch Doctor, mad Alchemist, insane, just a few nicknames given to her over her time working for The Warlock, however her favorite is something she still uses to this day, a name many would never want to hear for it meant pain, suffering and body augmentation, ‘The Shaman’. * Character Development Goals: Perfection, even though she knows she can never obtain it, only chase it. To quote: “Never Perfect, perfection goal that changes, can chase but never catch.” (Yes speech patterns from her are in this tone.)
52,750	1,433	25	565	507	After dealing with the archers that were on the turret, there was just a bloody mess around Sen. She then proceeded to move along the remainder of the wall that wasn't broken down, taking care to kill any soldiers that got in her path. She may have had a small frame, but her agility and deftness with a dagger ensured that anyone in her path, even ones in bulky armor, would find their necks being slit when they confronted her. "Die... Die, die, die..." Nothing could stop her bloodshed, not even a lone arrow in her shoulder. Much like the archer that grazed her cheek, the archer that shot the arrow would soon die as a result. These elves had been killing off her kind for many years, treating her kin as vermin and pests. What an ironic twist of faith that the 'pest' would be slaughtering the killers. Sen was a killer through and through and didn't care for the life of those she killed. Family? Friends? A career past being a soldier? She didn't care, she was a killer, nothing more nothing less, these elves were just unfortunate enough to be her targets.	Name: Sen Ignis Species: Kobold Age: 25 Gender: Female Specialization: Ranger Tragic Backstory: Parents were killed by a tunnel cave-in that was deliberately caused by a rival clan. Sen now hates every other kobold clan besides her own. Now serves as a merciless, emotionless killer in the Warlock's army. Character Development Goals: For Sen to actually regain her feelings and to learn something new besides killing.
52,751	1,433	26	2,492	758	Gorman stood back and watched the town go up in flames. Tomas stood with him, arms crossed, silent as always. As the warriors returned from battle carrying the spoils they'd saved, Gorman's eyes narrowed. His own squad had underperformed. Some of them were caught letting their targets go for one excuse or another, and it angered him. They weren't there when the alliance of humans, elves, and dwarves slaughtered his kin like they were livestock. They weren't there when the "heroes" decapitated women and children and celebrated it as a "righteous victory." These townsfolk didn't deserve mercy. Then again, his warriors weren't there. They hadn't seen the atrocities committed firsthand. They couldn't be blamed for their inability to time travel. Gorman took a deep breath and closed his eyes to calm his temper. If no one else understood, Tomas did. Tomas was one of the few survivors of the massacre, and though he wasn't part of Gorman's army at the time, their shared experience brought them together as friends. He couldn't speak, or even read, but his unwavering loyalty struck a chord in the old Captain's heart. Could Erjak teach him to read? Gorman pushed all other thoughts aside as his warriors drew within shouting distance. "REPORT ALL YOUR SPOILS AND PILE THEM BEHIND ME! THEN LINE UP FOR DEBRIEFING!"	* Name: Gorman * Species: Orc * Age: 50 * Gender: Male * Specialization: Fighter * Tragic Backstory: On one fateful night, when the annual thunderstorm soaked the Wasteland, the High Priestess went into labor with her first child. After hours of struggling to push him out, it is said that the midwife reached in to pull him out instead. The child latched onto her hand with such unnatural strength that she had to withdraw him arms-first. Legend has it that the moment he breathed his first breath, a lightning strike startled everyone in the room. But the child was the only one who didn't flinch. Instead, he pumped his fist in the air in defiance. Regardless of the truth of this story, legends surrounded the young orc from the very first years of his life. He supposedly popped the head of a kobold when he was three, defeated a platoon of goblins when he was ten, and defended his village from an invading orc army all by himself when he was twenty. The truth was a bit less glorious, but he made no attempt to stifle the legends - they were his shield against contenders. Despite having a talent for killing, he sought to live a more peaceful life, taking up architecture since entering adulthood. For many years, he and his team of builders constructed cities of rammed-earth and cobblestone all across Fellmore. His work was reputed to be of the highest quality, able to withstand both sieges and soaking thunderstorms. His wealthier clients appreciated his attention to detail, and his decorative work brought him to the feet of lords. But the peace was not to last. An alliance of humans and elves marched through Fellmore killing everything in their path. The reigning King of Fellmore drafted every able-bodied soul to the defense forces, including all of Gorman's employees. Every one of them died in the battle. Gorman was assigned to guard the King, and when the enemy finally routed the Fellmoran forces, Gorman reportedly absorbed nearly a dozen arrows before succumbing to his wounds. But the King perished anyway. Gorman wanted to die. But to his dismay, he did not. When the Warlock seized control of Fellmore, he heard tales of the orc's exploits and healed him. Now that he owed his life to the Warlock, Gorman had no choice but to live on. And if he was going to live, he decided he might as well take his revenge on the vicious elves that slew all his friends. Seized with this newfound reason for life, he accepted a position as Captain of a warband and trained to regain his fighting skills dulled from disuse. * Character Development Goals: Gorman views the other races with stereotypical prejudice. To him, elves are merely conniving snakes, humans are extra-wimpy elves, and dwarves are drunken idiots. All of them are gutless murderers in his eyes. He refuses to see them as people. Over time, though, circumstances will force him to face this issue and answer some tough questions about who he is and what he believes in.
52,752	1,433	27	2,036	2,453	Aside from that encounter with the family, Morkus had little problem carrying out his orders for the rest of the battle. Morkus found no other civilians that day, only soldiers who were somewhat less skilled than the swordsman who had been protecting his wife and children from Morkus. But the difference in skill between the swordsman and the other soldiers when completely unnoticed by Morkus. Even if he wasn't too lacking in mental capacity to notice or too focused on carving a path through all that opposed him, Morkus still wouldn't have any spare brain cells that weren't dedicated to thinking about the noise in his head at the time. When he was hit on the back of the head, the noise sounded like a muffled voice for some reason. Morkus couldn't make out what it was saying though, and the noise soon went back to normal. After the battle was over, Morkus just wondered about the place for a while. Having quickly forgotten about the noise during the fight, Morkus was now trying to think of what he was going to do now. He had yet to receive anymore orders and there was no one left to kill, so Morkus was kind of at a loss for what he should do next. But his problem soon solved itself when he heard Gorman barking more orders. Once the captain was done shouting, Morkus went and stood where he thought the debriefing line was going to form. He had no spoils to report since he had only been ordered to search every house and kill every living thing he found. As a result, the thought of looting and pillage never even crossed the mentally challenged orc's mind.	Name: Morkus Species: Orc Age: 24 Gender: Male Appearance Specialization: Fighter Backstory: Up to this point, Morkus' life had been pretty uneventful for him by Fellmore standards. For as long as he could remember (About 4 years.) Morkus had been the big tough stupid guy for a small warband. Though he stood a head or 3 above his peers in terms of strength, durability, and fighting prowess, Morkus had a very limited thought process that kept thoughts of using his physical gifts to kill, clobber, and bully his way up the chain of command from ever crossing his mind. Instead he just sat around doing sweet FA unless someone yelled at him to do something. But then 1 day something happened to Morkus that wasn't at all normal. Morkus' warband had joined forces with another warband for an ambitious raid on a human farming village a scout had found after exploring a cave tunnel that led out of Fellmore. But on the day of the raid, their passage through the cave was blocked by a well dressed human with 1 eye. Sword in 1 hand and magic in the other, the human decimated the orcs. However, the human had great difficulty defeating Morkus. After a 4 hour battle though, Morkus seemed to gain the upper hand. But before he could strike the final blow, the human cast a strange purple aura on Morkus and everything went dark. When Morkus woke up, he was back in Fellmore and was hearing an odd sound in his head. He then spent the next few weeks wandering Fellmore before being recruited into the Warlock's army. Current Character Development Goal: Find out what that annoying sound is and how to make it stop.
52,753	1,433	28	570	186	No spoils where had, none that held value to anyone other than her. Perhaps the way she implemented this treasure of hers wasn’t the best but no one was complaining, not yet anyway. Walking up to the Gorman's line her skull moved on its own, at her normal head height while her body slowly dug out of the ground, only to have it fall down covering her face once more before she fully emerged. Seemed having those old traits turned on made for a good way to move around. “Time wasted, pointless.” Clawing her way out of the ground completely she just sat down not even bothing to even try and stand at attention. It was, to her atleast, pointless for all this was doing was taking away from her research time. Things she could be doing to make them better, perhaps she could use her new strands she made on this team. While she contemplated these ideas the sound of a bone snapping came from her unseen maw. Chewing on the fragments might of given off a bad air as she was eating, in really she was taking in the essence of the bone for whatever creature it belong to. “It is time for change, make better, more efficient.” Her cold voice said as she held out a few items of distasteful rewards, in her mind they were worth more then anything that pile of riches they looted had. It was the idea of change, making them better, stronger, more adapt at the current goal. Returning her attention to Gorman she kept chewing and waited for his next word. For tonight was the night she was going to start taking samples from her ‘squad’. Regardless if they liked it or night.	Name: Alarus Species: Kobold Age: 43 Gender: Female Appearance: (I really hate the look of all images...Coloration is more muted; dull black and gray standings. Enough clothing to be covered but the most defining aspect is the skull rested on her head. The Eye sockets are matted or blacked out, with the horns being removed to her’s can poke through. The Skill is hollowed out covering the whole head.) Specialization: Mage Backstory: Didn’t really care much for war, didn’t really care much for anything really. Almost the perfect reason for bliss, ignorance. However thanks to some rather interesting reading and latter understandings of old myths. By every right one would call her an genetic engineer. Learning the ins and outs of other creatures, even her own kind, this also lead to another wonderful title, Monster. As it turns out, learning how to rewrite genetic material is a more delicate art that the mage didn’t quite have at first, and without a goal or idea of what she was doing, ended up dooming the majority of her clan’s lesser families. “Weak, could not withstand alteration, strands insuffant.” After seeing how her work had left the clan she decided it was best to leave and work on others. Perhaps she could find stronger sequences of Genetic material elsewhere, and she wasn’t disappointed. Over her trip she saw many different alteration, even the many creatures in the wasteland. Of course she couldn’t really write it all down so she did the only thing she could think of, using her own DNA to store the sequences but making them latent so they wouldn’t. Unforeseen side effects of working with one's DNA. Pigmentation loss mainly. She had to do away with any kinda ‘waste’ date to make room, the easiest was simple. Moving around for years augmenting and ‘improving’ creatures how she saw fit. Till she got an invite from a rather strange source, The Warlock himself offering her a spot in his army. To her the idea of being able to work on so many creatures at once was something she couldn’t pass up. Witch Doctor, mad Alchemist, insane, just a few nicknames given to her over her time working for The Warlock, however her favorite is something she still uses to this day, a name many would never want to hear for it meant pain, suffering and body augmentation, ‘The Shaman’. * Character Development Goals: Perfection, even though she knows she can never obtain it, only chase it. To quote: “Never Perfect, perfection goal that changes, can chase but never catch.” (Yes speech patterns from her are in this tone.)
52,754	1,434	0	1,949	2,861	Overwhelming dread spurred on by the flecks of blood hitting the ground and the sheer hope of the future. That's what drove the remaining few on. No one remembered why they were fighting. Which of the four kingdoms the other's came from was a fleeting thought in their minds. Their reasons; suppressing or preserving individuality had been lost a long time ago. Only four now stood, each with a different mask over their faces bearing the symbol of their respective kingdoms that had been covered in blood, making it impossible to distinguish who was from where. Did it ever matter in the first place? The four crept around each other, their weapons drawn and pointing it at each other in fear. In anticipation. Grimm surrounded them, their comrades corpses they stepped on and across. They all stopped, panting and shaking, the exhaustion of their long battle having taken their toll. Seeing the weakness and fear spreading between the four, the wolf-esque Grimm lunged with roars that shook the ground around them. All four warriors turned as they were upon them. One, however, was able to react. She used her staff to pole-vault out of the way, allowing the Grimm going for her to crash into the monster attacking the warrior across from her. The staff-clad warrioress and the fist fighter she had saved went back to back for a moment before running in the opposite directions, the fist fighter leaping off the ground into the Grimm attacking the third, an archer. His fist cracked into the Grimm's skull and sent the monster flying. The Archer shot three arrows into a small Nevermore approaching the fist fighter from behind, sending it crashing into the ground. The staff wielder flung her impressively sturdy weapon like a spear into a wolven Grimm whom the dagger-wielder warrioress was backing away from on the ground. The Staff warrior offered her hand to the dagger warrior, and she took it. For hours, the four fought back against the legion of Grimm going against them, forgetting their causes and joining forces somehow. They fought bravely. They fought hard. They were steeled, but they were not enough. The Staff wielder had broken her leg and shrieked in pain with every motion. The dagger warrior had suffered impalement and was bleeding out even as she fought with rage on her breath. The fist fighter had suffered a slash across the neck and was now holding the wound tightly as he fell to his knees and gasped for air. Above him, a bear-like Grimm was rearing up slowly. This was the end. And in the center, stood the archer. Behind his mask he looked between them all. Their kingdoms were forgotten. Their names were forgotten. He knew none of them yet fought against them and beside them all at once. His hands trembled... and then they didn't. With a determined, and sick feeling in his gut, he knew what he had to do. He pulled out one arrow and pulled back, aiming, with a silent calmness to his form.... and let go. The arrow went straight through the temples of the fist fighter just before he was eaten alive by the Grimm. The archer turned, looking at the staff wielder who met his gaze. She did not rise, and did not look away. She simply nodded. The arrow went through the center of her forehead, and her body slumped to the side. The dagger wielder turned just in time to see the life fading from the staff clad warrior, the staff rolling away peacefully down the sheer crags of the mountain they fought on. Panting, angry, confused, tears and blood and sweat all rolling down from the contents of her mask, the dagger warrior screamed and ran for the archer, her weapons high in the air. He looked to her and unleashed an arrow. It hit, right in the center of her chest. The warrior stumbled, gasping in pain... and then raised her blades and ran for him again, screaming bloody murder until another arrow hit her in the chest. This one caused her to fall to her knees, and she quivered in pain. The warrior dropped her daggers--she no longer could feel her fingers. The Grimm grew closer, feeling her fear. When she looked up at the archer, he stood directly before her, arms at his sides. An awful gurgling sound filled the suddenly still and silent air. The dagger warrior reached up, her face hidden by her mask, her fingers clawed and desperate and covered in blood as she reached for the archer. This all continued for a moment... and then the archer quickly pulled back his bow and unleashed an arrow through the center of her forehead. The gurgling warrior was cut off, and her head his his feet with an unceremonious 'thud.' The Grimm watched. They reached out to sense fear only to find none. The archer stood alone, his shoulders slumped as he stared down at what he had done. At what they all had done. Miles around them, as far as the eyes could see, weapons and bodies and traps made up the gray landscape. The rocks he stood on, were gray. The sky was overcast and filled the world with a sense of dread. The Grimm, still intrigued, approached the archer with a snarl. The Archer looked over the edge of the cliffs they had fought near, ready to accept his fate. The clouds broke. The rising sun shone through, causing the overcast sky to illuminate with purple, blue, orange, red and several other variants of color. Seeing this, the archer removed his mask slowly, his eyes wide. His red hair matted around his face and his freckles pale from lack of sunlight. Reflecting in his eyes, he saw the end of the war. The end of the gray looming over his entire generation. Tear streaked cheeks, which looked to have aged several years ahead of how old he truly was since the war began, cracked into a small smile. He closed his eyes as the Grimm approached him from behind, and turned his back to the dawn. The creatures upon him the archer slowly reopened his lids, revealing silver eyes shining beneath them. The world around him shook and filled with a light so blinding it consumed the land before him. R.W.B.Y. The Colors of Dawn Chapter One: Palette ------------------ Several Years Later... Professor Ozpin stood on the very cliff the archer had those many years ago overlooking what was now the Emerald forest. The wind blew his silver hair slightly as he stood rigid, his cane in one hand and his coffee in the other. The students arriving today had all arrived late to the school year and were the only ones able to work together for their team challenge. His student assistant, Glynda Goodwitch, approached him from behind, her long blonde hair down and her spectacles rectangular. Even from a young age, she had worked for the clockwork professor. "Ozpin..." She began to speak in her usual motherly tone of voice. Ozpin, before she could continue, closed his eyes and smirked. "Glynda, I know what you're going to say." He took a sip of his coffee as he spoke while behind him Glynda folded her arms patiently with her riding crop in hand. "I assure you that even though this batch of students are a little... rough around the edges, I think they could become the best representations of Beacon yet. After all we've so many recognizable faces, with a little team balancing I'm more than certain even the most difficult of them will be able to become an exemplary students in time." Satisfied, he fell silent and rested his eyes. Glynda slowly raised an eyebrow. "I was going to say, you didn't tell them what time they needed to meet here for and some of them haven't even arrived at the school yet." "...Oh." Ozpin opened his eyes, surprised. With the opening ceremonies, set ups for the Vytal Festival and working with his staff he'd been very preoccupied. "...That... could be a bit of an issue." "I will handle it." Glynda sighed. As she spoke, she flipped open her (at this time a bit of a prehistoric version of) her cellphone, sending out a message to all students in question to meet at the Emerald Forest border immediately or risk their opportunity attending Beacon Academy.	Rood von Rah Age 17 Gender Male Species Human APPEARANCE Height 6'2" Weight 211 lbs Clothing Style When not having to be in Beacon's uniform, Rood ordinarily adorns himself in ornate gold armor up to the waist with a royally bold red cape sashed at his waist which billows when he walks. He wears expensive heavy golden earrings and a red stone necklace at all times regardless if he is in uniform or not. His body is decorated with intricate red paint as a symbol of his status. Hair Color Blonde Eye Color Red COMBAT Weapons Eye of Ma'at His arm is covered in chains with a speared tip at the end, making lashing out with this long range weapon a very deadly experience. The speared tip can 'flower' out into a mini revolving end which Rood can fire off AS he whips this weapon around with the help of his semblance Mehet-Weret A classic lance with decorative and intricate craftsmanship. Best when paired with Rood's semblance. Though it has the option to use Dust, a situation where that would be necessary hasn't been crossed. Or has it? Semblance Friction Manipulation Rood is able to run on air (but NOT fly), walk on water, deflect oncoming attacks, increase or decrease and object's velocity, and change his own inertia. He is also able to generate heat, but not flames by concentrating all on the friction in regards to his body's/an object's placement. Without a gun, he is able to fire off bullets at will by concentrating his friction, hence the placement of the 'gun' at the end of his whip. See 'Other' for limitations. Dust Rood is extensively knowledgeable about Dust but for some reason doesn't carry any on him. Skills Taunting Evasion Surprise PERSONALIZED Personality Brash Dominant Sensitive Regal Passionate Skills -Has taken to playing a lute -Surprisingly, enjoys working with scrapped textiles to make fashionable outfits -Sewing Background For now, Rood's personal history will be shrouded in mystery. What can be shared is common knowledge to all students attending Beacon Academy. The Rah name belonged to a very prestigious family who once ruled the Kingdom of Mistral. The family line, however, fell due to unforeseen circumstances; enemies of past generations ambushed members of the family and cut them down. Desperate to hold the prestige of the family line, the few Rah's remaining married into Atlas' own royals the Schnee's. The two familie's connected only by forced marriages ruled in their separate kingdoms once order was restored, and the purity of the Rah line was forever broken. From there, two generations down, Rood was born a von Rah. This will be the first time in his life he has ever been exposed to working with others his own age. Character Theme Though he encompasses the summation of egyptian culture and religion as a whole, Rood is best described as a genderbent Neith, the Egyptian Goddess of War who wields a masculine bow and arrow. Traded instead for his main weapon is the feminine whip and his red necklace in place of her red crown. Neith is known for her love of weaving, which I wanted to really translate to Rood; which I did in the form of him enjoying sewing and making things out of it for others. 'Rood' is Dutch for red, and 'von' is a common German name add-on, which is frequent pattern seen in the Schnee name. Rah, of course is in reference to Ra, the egyptian God of the sun. Other: Jaune is the best About Friction - Rood's Semblance is vast in its potential, this is true. Or it would be if he could do more than one of any of those things at one time. Every use of his semblance takes all of his concentration, and it doesn't take long until all that usage takes a toll. Thanks to the nature of the semblance, Rood is at constant risk for overheating or in the worst case scenario spontaneously combusting, making his ability a dangerous one to wield for not only other, but for himself.
52,755	1,434	1	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako Vytal Festival grounds There comes a time in every sailor's life where every last ounce of strength, of spirit and fire, is challenged. Where wills are tested and found either wanting, or adamant. Bonny stared down her nemesis, the great leviathan, through eyes clouded by exhaustion, by weakness, and by the steam rising off the dread creature's body. It had been a long battle, and she knew not how much strength was left in her, while the creature's seemed neverending. Yet she would not back down. She stared at it, as it stared back at her. It had lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eyes, its fish lips fixed into a permanent rictus smile. Mocking her. After all she'd fought for... after all she'd lost, and after the pain of battle... She reached for her flask of liquid fire, unscrewing the top and taking a big, huge, monstrous swig, until it felt like she'd drown before she could come up for air. She gasped as she swallowed, and slammed the flask down. "Yea shan't defeat me, ye foul beast!" she screamed. "I who descend from a long line of mer! Do yea know who ye done pick 'ta fight with, yea dumb basserd? My name be Bonny Mako, pirate queen of the seven seas of Remnant! And I cannae be felled by the likes of ye!" Bonny lifted the bowl and started devouring the old man's #9 special, horking it down whole fish and all. The shopkeeper, for his part, did not judge. He wasn't the judging type, nor did he speak much. He merely provided whatever his customers asked for, and he served all kinds. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, same as every disbelieving onlooker who had crowded around the booth. Who the hell was this weirdo fish girl? Bonny finished the bowl, down to the last drop, and collapsed on top of the noodle stand counter, weak in the knees. Softly, she said, "There. I done completed yer challenge, old man. Now where tha hell..." she gasped, "is me booty?" Not sure which way to respond, the elderly shopkeeper pointed to the anchor tattoo on Bonny's lower back. The one that pointed to, well... She laughed, a pained sound that more resembled gasping for breath. "Very funny. Don't hornswaggle me, ye salty seadog. I mean me prize. I beat yer infernal gauntlet, now I want me prize. Hurry, before I send ye to feed the fishes down in Davy Jones' locker..." The shopkeeper dusted off an old box of free meal tickets, the prize for completing the full #9 special. The box had gone untouched for so long because no one had been mad enough to think they could finish a whole bowl of mackerel fish-head noodles in one sitting, let alone nine. It was by far his most disgusting dish! The only ones who had ever liked it were Faunus... The shopkeeper took notice of the girl's abnormally webbed fingers and gills around the same time the audience that had gathered did. Some backed off. Bonny, to her credit, still had the strength to answer her primitive flip-Scroll when it started to ring, the sound like jackhammers to her equally stuffed and dog-buggered brain. "Hello? Yea, this be she," she mumbled into the Scroll. The tinny voice on the other end apparently said something very important, and Bonny sat right up. "What?! Then why didn't ye tell me?!" She flipped the Scroll shut, mumbling something about "blasted scallywags" while she lifted an old brass cannon onto her back like a schoolbag (in fact there was a schoolbag hooked to the cannon with the little colorful hook things that snapped shut when you let go). Still mumbling to herself, she slapped a few bills on the counter, taking the ticket box and waving goodbye to the elderly shopkeeper as the crowd parted around her. "I'll be seeing ye tomorrow too fer lunch, ye salty seadog," she said, grinning. "This isn't the last you've seen of the shark queen Bonny Mako!" Pressing a button on the cannon's metal rig, Bonny fired the cannon down at her feat and rocketed into the sky. The crowd scattered, staring up at the sky as the bizarre girl who thought she was an actual pirate quickly became nothing more than a twinkle in the sky. The Emerald Forest Bonny huffed as she ran over the crest of the hill, doubled over as she tried not to vomit. Her lower intestine shook as it rearranged itself into an anchor bend. Was this the captain's revenge?! "Sorry... if I be... late... sir," she said to Ozpin. "Yea should've told me... we were doing this now... else I wouldn'ta... had such a big lunch... oh no..." Bonny looked around frantically for a place to disgorge her seafood lunch privately, before she had to swallow it a second time like some preppish schoolgirl. But there was nothing. Just a flat expanse ending in a giant... cliff... The shark Faunus rushed over to the side of the cliff and vomited up a tidal wave of chum where no one could see where it would land. She wiped her mouth clean once she was finished. Oh by the gods of the sea that was sour. But it should last her... for a while. She just hoped no one besides Glynda and the headmaster had seen that...	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,756	1,434	2	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Vladimir received the message from the blonde teacher- he assumed Glynda was a teacher, at least- a few minutes after lunch. It was fine, for foreign cuisine - not quite on par with his own preferences, but edible at least. Regardless, he was just clearing his plate when my scroll pinged, telling him and a few other students to meet her and Ozpin at the Emerald Forest, or risk immediate expulsion. He'd anticipated this for a while. From what he'd been told, Atlas Academy tended to form its Hunters-in-training into teams of four, for some reason naming them after colours whenever they could, something to do with the war from a while back; there was no reason that the same wouldn't apply to Beacon, since it was a world-spanning war, and so the only thing left to consider was the process. This, he believed, would be "it", so to speak. He'd had his armour on every day since he'd arrived in anticipation, so he headed off toward the forest mere moments after the text was received. In his mind, there was no time to be lost, and nothing to gain from stalling. At that moment, he felt it was his time to make his big first impression. And now, considering the fairly large clearing before him, devoid of notable life save for the teachers and one other student puking their guts out over a cliff- "Ugh, Faunus," he muttered under his breath at that sight, noting the fin-like ears coming from the sides of her head- he feared his pride in wanting to prove himself the top dog here had been... misplaced? Perhaps not quite the right wording, but it seemed like it would be a touch easier than anticipated. Just a touch. "Alright," Vladimir said in a rather louder voice, calmly strolling over to the teachers and bluntly ignoring the Faunus girl (who, he now noticed, was showing off rather more skin than he personally considered acceptable), "so I'm here as requested. I assume this has something to do with proving ourselves; pray tell, what manner of task will we be put up against for that?"	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,757	1,434	3	728	40	Sage Burnet Sage, I heard you were accepted into Beacon - you're probably heading there as I'm writing this letter. You're probably wondering how I know about that. I have my ways, and even though I've left Vale, I've got some of my friends looking out for you. I know letters are a second-rate surrogate for a brother, but they'll have to do for now. They're harder to trace, and I'm trying to stay off the grid if you get me. I've gotta say, you never struck me as a Hunter. I sort of saw you as owning a florist's shop and spritzing bonzai all day to be honest. You're a bit scrawny and you're still awkward as hell, like a fawn learning how to walk. But you'll do, I suppose. You have an edge to you that can't be denied, now you've just gotta sharpen it. I have to go now - they've been keeping me busy here. But it's nice not to be the only Faunus. I feel like I belong here and that I finally have a purpose. Sorry for being vague, I hope you understand... Anyways, good luck Sage. Don't get a big head - if you can manage. (Actually, maybe you should focus on growing those antlers, they're a bit scraggly as I recall.) Remember where you came from. You may be a Hunter in Training now, but you're still a Faunus and that will always precede you in the eyes of others. You have a lot to prove. No pressure, Forrest ~ Sage rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress a faint smile. Sage's older brother was never one to mince words, and this was as close to a vote of confidence that Sage would ever get from him. He was sitting in the grass outside of Beacon, and the early morning sun was finally beginning to break through the clouds. Hailing from Vale, Sage had arrived early to Beacon, and had been using his spare time to explore the grounds. The school was still magnificent, but signs of conflict, hard times and war could be seen - cracks in the institution's otherwise stately veneer. Being a hunter was already hard, but now that public opinion towards hunters was tepid at the very best, it had been even harder to convince his Aunt and Uncle to allow him to attend Beacon. They worried a lot, but he hoped to prove to them that he had made the right decision. However, something about the place made him feel like he belonged. Maybe he was feeling the same way Forrest was feeling - wherever he was. Sage's phone buzzed in his pocket, and when he read the message, his stomach turned. He was being summoned to the Emerald Forest. Though he was sure he would feel at home in the Emerald Forest, he was certain some kind of trial awaited him and the thought of one afternoon defining his entire future at Beacon was daunting to say the least. He was uniformed for battle, his bow was well strung, and his quiver was full. He was as ready as he'd ever be. As he approached the cliff looking over the forest, he noticed a gathering of students. Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief that he had made it to the right place. He spotted a girl with fins protruding from her the sides of her head. Another Faunus! His remaining misgivings dropped away and he felt comfortable. He was used to being the only Faunus in a crowd of humans and thus was acclimated to the pointed stares many gave him as they glanced at his antlers. Here he would not be the only one. However, looking at her closer, he realized she looked familiar. He wracked his brain, and remembered a time long ago when his parent's fishing boat was confiscated by Vale's government. Some bullshit about Faunus's not being allowed to hold permits. The very next day, the boat had reappeared in the dock with a note, sealed with a skull and crossbones, telling his family that they didn't need to worry about permits. In the distance a ship was sailing away, and a blonde girl with the distinctive fins was standing at the helm. Was it the same girl? Not wanting to bring it up in public, he made a note to himself to ask her later - maybe he'd get a chance to thank her for what she'd done for his family those many years ago. The other student that was there was a tall, dark haired human with startlingly red eyes. He was conversing with Glynda and Ozpin. The way he held himself, and the confidence emanating from his voice implied that he was not one to be trifled with. Sage counted himself fortunate that they were on the same side. Instead of engaging with any of the other students, Sage opted instead to gaze out over the forest. It was vividly green and signs of life were everywhere. He took out his bow, the gold glinting in the sun, and he began checking the tautness of the bow string. It was compulsive behaviour and it revealed his impatience. He hoped the other students would arrive soon so that the trials ahead of them could finally commence. ~	Name: Sage Burnet Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Faunus APPEARANCE Sage has a gentle and unimposing appearance and is often assumed to be non-threatening. He is not bulky, rather has sleek muscles from running long distances frequently. He carries himself with composure and emanates a kind of quiet strength. Though he has a faint smile, his eyes are very expressive and are much better are displaying emotions than any of his other features. He has stag antlers and light freckles. Though he is reserved, he can be quite fierce, and he enjoys playing with people's expectations of him. Being perceived as mild at first, and proving to be quite the opposite later, is advantageous to him in battle and in life in general. Height: 5'11'' Weight: 160 lbs Clothing Style: He enjoys clothing in earthy tones, like emerald green, brown and gold. He primarily wears loose fitting clothing that is easy to move in, and enjoys accessorizing with scarves. His antlers often have green vines wrapped around them. He prefers wearing sandals or no shoes at all. His combat uniform is emerald, brown and gold with brown leather armor, boots and archery gloves. Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Green COMBAT Weapon: His primary weapon is a large compound bow and arrows. His bow is called Bogha-Saighde. It is beautifully crafted with gold elements that look like vines and leaves. He has multiple arrow types, some of which contain dust. Though his bow isn't capable of turning into a gun, he can shoot multiple arrows at once and possesses a scatter shot arrow that behaves in a similar manner. It also has rope arrows which he can use affix to different spots to use as a zip line. Basically, anything Lara Croft can do with her bow in Rise of the Tomb Raider, Sage can do plus more. His secondary weapons are multiple gold torcs, elaborately knotted, that he wears on his wrists into battle. When taken off they fold out into blades which can be used in a pinch if he loses the opportunity for ranged combat. Semblance: Though he is not fully experienced in using his semblance, he is able to summon thick roots from the ground which wrap around his opponent, keeping them "rooted" to the spot. This is advantageous for him because it makes them a much easier target. At full strength, he can influence the vegetation around him, by humming or singing certain melodies. This gives him strong advantages in a forest or jungle setting. Dust: He prefers working with earth dust, though his arrows can contain a wide variety. He wears a green earth crystal around his neck for emergencies. Skills: 1. Stealthy 2. Fast 3. Agile 4. Unpredictable 5. Sure-Shot PERSONALIZED Personality: 1. Intuitive 2. Daring 3. Sly 4. Compassionate 5. Imaginative Skills: 1. An excellent gardener. 3. An avid reader. 4. Good at singing - he has musical talent but it's largely untapped. 5. Great at coin tricks. 6. Fishes on the weekends. Background: Born on the coast of the Kingdom of Vale, Sage's family consisted of his parents and his older brother. His parents were both fisherman and lived a humble, but happy existence. However, they were often remote given their need to embark on deepwater fishing expeditions. Sage was often left alone with his brother, Forrest. On one such expedition, his parent's vessel was lost. It is thought that they perished as a result of sea monster activity. Forrest and Sage were alone, and moved to the capitol of Vale to live with their aunt and uncle. Sage, motivated by his parents' death to become a hunter, enrolled in Signal, later to attend Beacon. Though often considered an underdog in terms of being admitted to Beacon, he excelled at Signal academically and stood out for his ability to use subtly and stealth to subvert those he fought. Though Sage's brother Forrest was proud of Sage's accomplishments, it was never his personal dream to become a hunter. Forrest became withdrawn and restless and left Vale. It is unknown where he is now, but intermittent letters that he sends to Sage heavily imply that he is now a part of a militant Faunus group. Sage, used to his brother's free-spirited nature, often behaves like his absence doesn't affect him, but in truth, Sage misses his brother immensely and worries about him all the time. Character Theme: Sage is based on Cernunnos, the mysterious horned deity of Celtic myth. He is visualized as wearing rich, draping fabric with two torcs, metal rings, hanging off of stag antlers. This is why Sage is a stag Faunus, enjoys wearing scarves and has an earthy aesthetic. Cernunnos is also pictured with Torcs, which is why Sage uses these in combat. Cernunnos' image is emblazoned on the "Pillar of the Boatmen," an ancient bas-relief, which is why Sage's family are fisherman. He is the wild god of the forest which is why Sage has Earth/gardening-related abilities. Cernunnos is also the master of the hunt which is why Sage uses a bow and arrow. Also, Cernunnos is known as the god of death and dying and is thought to have sung to guide souls to the afterlife. This attribute partly influenced Sage's semblance. Other: Jaune is the best!
52,758	1,434	4	2,340	7,591	Olivia Verde Opposed to silly things like preparing for the Festival, Olivia was hanging out in a boxing gym. Two sharp blows went into the punching bag, Olivia's hands were guarded by the bright red boxing gloves. Sweat tricked down her hands as she sent in blow after blow. Leaving in deep dents - just the way she liked it. If she can't leave a mark while practicing, then how will she leave a mark in her enemies? Honestly, her style was more of an all out attack. Destroy the enemy before they get a chance to get a hit in. Olivia heard some footsteps behind her, and the distinct sound of two boxing gloves being punched together. The young huntress grinned as she turned around and saw a redhaired girl with similar boxing gloves. "Hey," The girl said, grinning slightly. "Wanna box?" "Heh, sure, sure." Olivia said as she walked away from the bag and towards a padded mat. She got into one corner, and assumed the stance - fists up to the temple, feet slightly shoulder length apart. Facing down her opponent who got into the opposite corner. She had to fight aggressively. Hit hard. Don't retreat. "Three," Olivia started off. "two, one... Ding!" She quickly pushed in, her feet speeding and her fists were thrown up. Olivia quickly moved in with some jabs to check, keep her eyes centered up. The girl quickly threw her hands up to block them. She quickly countered with a kick to the girl's side. Sending her stumbling back a little bit. Olivia was about to laugh a little, and go a little bit heavier - when the phone in her pocket started ringing. She quickly took a step back, and threw her hands up to guard. "Hey, wait up." Olivia said as she took a step back, wrestling her hand out of her glove and reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone. By the time she got it out, the other girl, a little mad about the beatdown, came up and sucker punced her in the stomach with the glove on. Didn't hurt that much but it made Olivia drop her phone and stumble a few steps back. Olivia started crackling with electricity, ready to give this broad the shock of her life. However, she disappeared in a black vortex. Probably some teleportation semblance. "Okay, that was cheap as hell..." Olivia said, shaking her head as she looked into the phone. A text from Glynda telling her to get to the Emerald Forest. Her eyes shot open. She is soooo not ready for this. If only they told her ahead of time. Olivia quickly hauled ass over to her bag, grabbing it as she ran straight to the door. She found out where she had parked her motorcycle, quickly hopping on it and speeding off towards the Emerald Forest. Olivia managed to run over the hills of the Emerald Forest - a great view, she'd love to explore this place later - and eyeballed the growing group of students. She was trickling with sweat, still somewhat annoyed she wasted her energy boxing. Oh well. A little handicap won't hurt. With her nunchucks at her side, Olivia saluted Ozpin (Being a smartass), as she stood near the rest of the growing group. With her hands behind her back. Olivia leaned in towards the group and got a good look at them. A fish Faunus (That was dressed like a stripper), a real tall pale looking boy, a pretty boy... and who else? More people need to show up! She could already see herself being the leader of these three! Well, if she's going to get leader... then she'll need to prove herself as one. And the most important part of leadership is cohesion! So, Olivia scrolled over to the most interesting person here - the shark - and nodded, "Hey," She said, smiling and standing on her near tip toes. "You don't look too happy to be here, huh?"	Name: Olivia Verde Age: 18 Gender: Most definitely a girl. Species: Hooman APPEARANCE Height: 5'10 Weight: 132 Clothing Style: Olivia's dresses very stylishly, and practically. Like, she dresses like an adventurer. Usually, she wears jeans, and a top of some sort. Accessorized with a stylish jacket, or belt. However, Olivia is never seen without her scarf. A green scarf with thin red stripes that she keeps wrapped around her neck. Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown COMBAT Weapon: Olivia uses nunchucks that are a jet black color with golden details in the shape of snakes. These nunchucks are seemingly made out of a metal (Just painted black), and are longer than you'd expect nunchucks to be (In terms of length, they're more like a three section staff). When she uses them in a fight, she infuses them with her semblance, and makes them glow brightly with electricity. Which is quite a shock when she's facing off with enemies. Olivia can also produce a blade out of these nunchucks with a press of a button, turning the nunchucks into something similar to sickles. When infused with electricity, they're nothing to play with at close quarters. This isn't all these nunchucks are capable of. Much like other weapons, these nunchucks are capable of transforming into a firearm. Specifically, they're capable of splitting in half, and turning into two revolvers. These revolvers have ridiculously long barrels, and shoot giant rounds. These guns are much like handcannons. Best of all, they can be infused with her semblance, firing lightning shots. Semblance: In case you haven't realized it, electricity. Olivia is capable of producing large amounts of electricity, and weaponizing it in a variety of ways. She can infuse her hands, and weapons, with the semblance to add more shock to her blows. Alternatively, she can forget that and just shoot it at people. She can't exactly shoot bolts of lightning, her semblance is more of constant streams of electricity. Dust: Dust ain't Olivia's style. Skills: Muay Thai (Her father taught her how to fight, and she's a very talented martial artist). Athletic (Capable of a variety of athletic feats). Experienced (This ain't her first rodeo). PERSONALIZED Personality: Moody/Confrontational/Cranky. Ambitious/Determined. Mischievous. Strives to be the best. Rather poor social skills. Skills: Driving (Olivia owns a motorcycle). Sparring/Practicing martial arts. Reading books. Imaginative. Background: Generic backstory, GO! Olivia was born in Vale, to a family of martial artists. Her family includes her mother, father, and her triplet little brothers. Her father was the patriarch of the family, and taught Olivia everything she knew from a young age. Expecting her to become the next big warrior for the family. Teaching her the family martial art, how to shoot, and teaching her how to fight using the nunchucks. Given the fact that she was taught ahead of time, she had a lot of training underneath her belt. Once she was old enough, she decided that she was going to become a great huntress, using her training, she applied to beacon, and passed their combat preliminaries with flying colors. Character Theme: Olivia, in terms of Semblance, and weapons, is based off Hurakan, the Mayan God of Hurricanes. Because, her general theme goes along with storms (Electricity, obvi. Nunchucks can be compared to winds, or the sort). A devastating and powerful force. There is a tattoo of a snake on her foot - echoing how one of Hurakan's legs was a snake. Serpents are also engraved in gold on her nunchucks. Much like Hurakan's himself, Olivia is a cranky, moody, force to be reckoned, a wind of destruction, with if you dare cross her. But, otherwise a very creative and laid back human being. Other: #replaceeveryonewithjaune2016
52,759	1,434	5	512	55	Platinum Kray Platinum stared blankly into the horizon as another new student she had just become acquainted with by the name of 'Pandora' somehow managed to gobble down food by the dozen while at the same time talk so much it had essentially replaced white noise. A strange name to say the least, especially with the normal naming conventions about, probably some hippy dippy stuff that Platinum cared not to get into. In all honesty, she had no idea what the girl was talking about, but she seemed cheerful enough and was kind enough to follow Plat around like a puppy after she had merely said sorry for knocking her bag on accident. Platinum hadn't eaten a bite of her lunch. She wouldn't dare admit it, but the nerves were getting to her, and in a bad way as well. It had surpassed mere butterflies in her stomach and was now escalating to the dreaded stamping foot. Luckily enough, she received a message from, Glynda, luckily was overstating it a bit as it only made, Plat more nervous, but at least it was an excuse to get going. "I gotta go, see you around" Was all she said to, Pandora, leaving before she could hear her answer. Platinum arrived at the Emerald Forest a lot more confident than she felt. She was never one to show any fear, always managing to portray herself as brave and confident even when she felt the opposite. Her gauntlets hung on her belt, no use in putting them on just yet, for all she knew this could be a mental aptitude test of all things. It seemed she had arrived slightly late, a small group had already formed, but very few were socializing between each other. She wandered over to the teachers, and consequently Vladimir as well. "Am I in the right place? Everything seems a bit desolate..."	Name: Platinum 'Plat' Kray Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5 foot 7 Weight: 140 pounds Clothing Style: Plat can often be seen wearing dark, practical clothing. Practical in the sense that it's not baggy, but that's all it really is in terms of practicality. She almost always wears her brother's old jacket, which has had the sleeves taken up to fit her better. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Plat carries a pair of gun gauntlets. The gauntlets have extendable claws which, in turn, double as gun barrels. The gun is akin to that of an assault rifle, firing in short controlled bursts in most cases, with spray only being used in dire situations. Semblance: Plat is able to manipulate metals and alloys at will. Her manipulation mostly takes the shape of long threads of metal wire. These strands of wire can be used for multiple situations, such as using them as a grappling hook, using them to whip or trap an enemy or even to protect herself by creating a small shield of the wire. However, she can also just use whatever metal object she chooses for other purposes, for example using a door as a shield, although the bigger an object is the more energy it takes. Dust: Plat does not use dust. Skills: Athletic - Skilled in parkour Skilled boxer, which helps with the use of her gauntlets PERSONALIZED Personality: Loyal Compassionate Cocky Easily Angered Arrogant Skills: Plays the drums Rather good at Remnant: The Board Game Background: Plat was born and bred in Vale. Her father, a lumberjack, owned a wealthy paper making and tree cutting company that supplied much of the tree based items to all of the kingdoms. As a result, the family were rather wealthy, but being the traditional man he was, Plat' father had the family living most of the time in log cabins rather than high class estates. Plat's father had always intended for his two children to go into the lumber trade in one way or another. Someone needed to take over the business after he was gone, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be his shareholders. Unfortunately for him they were both a bit more adventurous than he had anticipated. Plat' brother, Jesse, had become a hunter around the time that Plat turned 9, and this inspired her to follow in his foot steps. It was also at this point that a character changing event happened in her life. Because of her vaguely cushy upbringing, she grew up with an almost innate sense of arrogance. This led to her becoming somewhat of a bully in her school, something which she never realised until she saw the effects of her actions. She changed almost immediately, growing into a more compassionate person albeit still keeping her arrogance. He became vaguely well known in the Hunter world for his skills in sword play and his keen eye for danger. He was far too modest to do anything with this fame though and as a result he only became known in certain circles throughout Vale and beyond, but to Plat he was as big a celebrity as any. She idolized him, thinking he was the coolest thing since the invention of Hunters. Throughout the years she grew up with the dream of becoming a hunter based on this idolization of her brother. Things changed a little around the time that she was 14 though. This was at the point in which her brother died, killed by Grimm in an accident no one could have expected. Not much was released to the public or Plat' family about the death, but a close friend of her brother revealed all there was to know to the family. He was blinded the day previous, and on the way back was attacked by Grimm. He was killed mercilessly, and the friend suspected foul play was at hand. All that was left was the jacket he always wore, which Plat took as her own in remembrance. The death made Plat give up her dream for a short while. She would go days without speaking or eating, only grieving over her brother's death. Things began getting better as time went on, but it was about a year later that she went back to normal, and another half year after that before she began considering becoming a hunter once more. By the time she was 16, he was once again dedicated to becoming a hunter, with the intent of using the skills she learns as one to avenge her brother and find out the true cause of his death. Character Theme: Bloody Mary. In the same way that Bloody Mary, or Mary Tudor suffored a great deal of loss throughout her life, Plat has done the same and the metaphorical blood on her hands is no longer red but now silver. Along with this, her father often discouraged her from being a hunter, both for his lumber business and for his fear of her death, in the same way as Mary Tudor, Plat feels somewhat wronged by this. Other: Jaune is the best
52,760	1,434	6	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn Rowan stood in the center of a decent sized crowd. His juggling performance had piqued the interest of several spectators, who now looked on in amazement as he transitioned flawlessly from trick to trick. Spending his entire life alone led to some unique hobbies. Fortunately for him, not all of them were entirely useless. At this point, Rowan was already juggling five balls, with two resting on the tops of his shoes. He kicked one up, adding another level of difficulty to the juggling. The colorful balls flowed seamlessly from one hand to the other, producing quite a few noises of excitement from the crowd. The grass in front of Rowan was disturbed by the landing of a coin. “That wasn’t my intention here, folks. I simply wanted to entertain today,” he said through a smile, while still maintaining his throws. Rowan gave the last ball a slight kick, sending it directly into Rowan’s hand. This was his first time attempting a seven-ball cascade (The standard, basic pattern.), which he completely expected to fail. Luckily, his performance was interrupted by a buzzing in his front pocket. Instead of catching the balls still in mid-air, he simply let them fall as he pulled out his cellphone. “I’m sorry, everyone. This should only take a moment,” he said. It was a message from his new professor, Glynda Goodwitch. The professor’s message instructed him to urgently meet at the edge of the Emerald Forest, at Beacon Cliffs. Begrudgingly, Rowan packed away his juggling equipment. He never even got to juggle the daggers he had prepared, which disappointed him. They were always a crowd favorite. He sputtered out an apology to the crowd, most of which had already dispersed after he failed his cascade. Rowan was set up right in the heart of the Vytal Festival grounds. Instead of immediately heading for his destination, he took what a more scenic route. He stopped by a particularly small food stand, and ordered their special. He had never been here before, but it appeared to be the home of a myriad of fried foods. His food arrived in a timely manner, the chef only taking a few minutes to present him with his fried kebab. It was the perfect meal for the walk to Beacon Cliffs. After biting into the first item, Rowan quickly realized that he had no clue what he was consuming. Not that it really mattered to him; if it tastes good, then it goes down. The walk to the Cliffs was much shorter than originally anticipated. After a quick head-count, Rowan realized he was not the only one to be summoned by Goodwitch. There were five others that arrived before him. Rowan jogged his memory, trying to recall what he was told his first day would be like. He faintly remembered something regarding initiation, as well as the forming of teams. He assumed that this must be his initiation. He was eager to form teams, especially with this group of students. He studied some of them more closely, making note of the Faunus girl, who was conversing with another student. There was a lone boy overlooking the forest, tinkering with his bow. Standing before the two professors were a pair of students who appeared to be questioning the professors, presumably regarding the task at hand. Not entirely sure what he was supposed to do, Rowan pulled out his gloves. It was dangerous to leave the gloves imbued with Dust when they were not in use, which meant he had to go through the laborious process of applying it every time he wanted to use them. Without the Dust, they were just a pair of black gloves. The gloves faintly glowed red when they came into contact with the Dust.	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,761	1,434	7	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako Bonny coughed, wiping the spittle from her mouth and rubbing it off in the grass. Hundreds of feet below them, there was a faint wet splat, followed by the sound of a Grimm howling in anger. "The beast tried to do me in," she said, referring to her fish lunch that was all over the forest floor below. "But I wouldn't let the bastard win. Just a bit of bad chum is all. Don't let it get to ya. Though by the looks of it, they caught ya all shanghaied with yer panties around yer ankles too, didn't they?" The shark Faunus rose to her feet, dusting herself off. She held out her hand. Honestly she was surprised any of the human students were talking to her on her first day here, but if she wanted to chat, she owed her the courtesy. "Name's Bonny Mako, pirate queen of the seven seas. We're both here in misery, so let's get along, yeah? Else I'll have to keelhaul you." She waited for a second before remembering this was a prominently anti-Faunus environment and that the girl might have actually taken her seriously. "That was a joke, by the way. I ain't actually gonna keelhaul ya. I didn't bring enough rope for that." She burst out laughing, thinking she was the funniest thing since an Ursa tap-danced with a monkey. Everyone else probably thought she was just crazy. Or drunk. Maybe both. Probably both. Bonny took another swig from her flask, sighing with refreshment. "Say, you have any idea what the deal is with that pasty-lookin' bloke over there? You know, the one who looks like he ain't ever taken a proper shit before in his life? He looks a bit like sharkbait. We sure he ain't gonna be spontaneously combustin' soon as the sun starts touchin' his skin?"	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,762	1,434	8	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka The sound of loud, raucous laughter drew the attention of the tall, pale boy- or man, as some may be intimidated or otherwise fooled into believing- and, of course, the one it was emanating from was the shark Faunus. Actually, she was quite a loud person in general- loud laughter, loud drinking from what looked for all the world like a bottle of alcohol, then loudly discussing the flaws of another student, an apparently "pasty-lookin' bloke" who "looks a bit like sharkbait" and... hold on, was she pointing at him? Was she talking shit about him, of all people?! The outrage on his face was evident, but apparently vanished the moment he turned back to face the two teachers, all smiles and charm. "Pardon me, Principal Ozpin, Ms. Glynda, and, uh, you whose name I haven't had the chance to acquire yet," Vladimir said, unfortunately interrupting whatever explanation the teachers were about to give, "I just need to deal with something very quickly, and then I'll be right back." This was all said in a calm, even graceful tone; the moment he turned away from them all, his expression reverted to fury, as he stalked over to the Faunus girl and her human companion, moving until he was mere inches away from oh God her breath stank like fish and stomach acid- moving until he was mere feet from the sharkgirl's face. Teeth gritted, he ground out the words "Care. To rephrase. What. You just. Said. About me?" at the Faunus specifically, for the most part ignoring the human next to her. If she wanted to involve herself in this, then so be it, but best not to make too many enemies early on unless they'd already made themselves a target.	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,763	1,434	9	2,340	7,591	Olivia Verde Shark-Girl sounds kinda cool... though, that sounds racist. Olivia had nothing against Faunus people. In fact, she treated them no differently than other human beings. Olivia put her hands on her hips and just watched as her new friend vomited off the edge of the cliff. Only laughing a little bit, and saying, "Nice." "Name's Bonny Mako, pirate queen of the seven seas. We're both here in misery, so let's get along, yeah? Else I'll have to keelhaul you. That was a joke, by the way. I ain't actually gonna keelhaul ya. I didn't bring enough rope for that." That was when the Shark-Faunus introduced herself as Bonny, the "Pirate of the Seven Seas". The title served little more than to amuse Olivia. Oh? She's a pirate. Olivia thought to herself as her outfit started to make a lot more sense. Though, Olivia herself briefly wondered what her title should be. Storm Green? No, that sounds lame. The Raging Wind? Kinda sounds like The "Raging Boner". The Wind of Destruction - Oh! That's a good one, Olivia's the wind of destruction. When Bonny laughed, Olivia laughed with her. "Sure thing, Bonny." Olivia winked at Bonny. "Wasn't planning on getting into a sword-fight with a pirate today anyway - and you seem fun anyway." Since it was a formality, Olivia figured that she should give Bonny her name too. "Olivia!" She put her hand out. "The Wind of Destruction." She laughed a little bit. "Say, you have any idea what the deal is with that pasty-lookin' bloke over there? You know, the one who looks like he ain't ever taken a proper shit before in his life? He looks a bit like sharkbait. We sure he ain't gonna be spontaneously combustin' soon as the sun starts touchin' his skin?" That's when Olivia turned her head right towards the person she was ignoring the whole time. He did look weird as hell. Olivia started laughing as she started cooking up a little tease - but that sarcastic genius didn't go to work because they accidentally caught the attention of the dude - Bonny should use her inside voice. Olivia looked at him as he scrolled over to them, and rolled her eyes up into her head when he opened his mouth. "Care. To rephrase. What. You just. Said. About me?" Tough guy, eh? Olivia knew where this is going, and she'd hate to ruin this nice forest. Though, she knew he wouldn't have the guts to do anything in front of Glynda and Ozpin. Though... that didn't mean she couldn't have a little bit of fun with him. Just see how far she can push Tall-Dark-And-Edgy. Olivia shrugged, putting her hands up, and putting a shit eating grin on. "You're a touchy one, huh?" Olivia started off. "So, in that little head of yours, it must be true if you're coming over here tryna pick a fight." Olivia remembered that she had her weapons on her hips. One bonk outside the head would send this kid crying.	Name: Olivia Verde Age: 18 Gender: Most definitely a girl. Species: Hooman APPEARANCE Height: 5'10 Weight: 132 Clothing Style: Olivia's dresses very stylishly, and practically. Like, she dresses like an adventurer. Usually, she wears jeans, and a top of some sort. Accessorized with a stylish jacket, or belt. However, Olivia is never seen without her scarf. A green scarf with thin red stripes that she keeps wrapped around her neck. Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown COMBAT Weapon: Olivia uses nunchucks that are a jet black color with golden details in the shape of snakes. These nunchucks are seemingly made out of a metal (Just painted black), and are longer than you'd expect nunchucks to be (In terms of length, they're more like a three section staff). When she uses them in a fight, she infuses them with her semblance, and makes them glow brightly with electricity. Which is quite a shock when she's facing off with enemies. Olivia can also produce a blade out of these nunchucks with a press of a button, turning the nunchucks into something similar to sickles. When infused with electricity, they're nothing to play with at close quarters. This isn't all these nunchucks are capable of. Much like other weapons, these nunchucks are capable of transforming into a firearm. Specifically, they're capable of splitting in half, and turning into two revolvers. These revolvers have ridiculously long barrels, and shoot giant rounds. These guns are much like handcannons. Best of all, they can be infused with her semblance, firing lightning shots. Semblance: In case you haven't realized it, electricity. Olivia is capable of producing large amounts of electricity, and weaponizing it in a variety of ways. She can infuse her hands, and weapons, with the semblance to add more shock to her blows. Alternatively, she can forget that and just shoot it at people. She can't exactly shoot bolts of lightning, her semblance is more of constant streams of electricity. Dust: Dust ain't Olivia's style. Skills: Muay Thai (Her father taught her how to fight, and she's a very talented martial artist). Athletic (Capable of a variety of athletic feats). Experienced (This ain't her first rodeo). PERSONALIZED Personality: Moody/Confrontational/Cranky. Ambitious/Determined. Mischievous. Strives to be the best. Rather poor social skills. Skills: Driving (Olivia owns a motorcycle). Sparring/Practicing martial arts. Reading books. Imaginative. Background: Generic backstory, GO! Olivia was born in Vale, to a family of martial artists. Her family includes her mother, father, and her triplet little brothers. Her father was the patriarch of the family, and taught Olivia everything she knew from a young age. Expecting her to become the next big warrior for the family. Teaching her the family martial art, how to shoot, and teaching her how to fight using the nunchucks. Given the fact that she was taught ahead of time, she had a lot of training underneath her belt. Once she was old enough, she decided that she was going to become a great huntress, using her training, she applied to beacon, and passed their combat preliminaries with flying colors. Character Theme: Olivia, in terms of Semblance, and weapons, is based off Hurakan, the Mayan God of Hurricanes. Because, her general theme goes along with storms (Electricity, obvi. Nunchucks can be compared to winds, or the sort). A devastating and powerful force. There is a tattoo of a snake on her foot - echoing how one of Hurakan's legs was a snake. Serpents are also engraved in gold on her nunchucks. Much like Hurakan's himself, Olivia is a cranky, moody, force to be reckoned, a wind of destruction, with if you dare cross her. But, otherwise a very creative and laid back human being. Other: #replaceeveryonewithjaune2016
52,764	1,434	10	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako Bonny made a face as she saw the pasty-lookin' bloke walking towards them with his shoulders hunched in that "I'll kill you bitches!" pose. She turned to whisper to Olivia. "Ah shit, I think he mighta heard us, Liv," she said, completely missing the point. Bonny steeled herself, fully prepared to apologize if that's what it took to stop a fight. A Faunus like her didn't need that on her record, especially not on her first day. Then she caught a whiff of his breath. She covered her nose with her sleeve. "Shiver me timbers, what the bloody hell didya eat?! Yer breath smells like someone stuck a candle up yer ass and lit it! Makes me want to dance the hempen jig, cripes!" Bonny knew full well this wasn't helping her case. Then again, maybe she didn't. But god almighty, that smell was awful! It's like he brushed his teeth and bathed himself every day or something! And it was right up in her face! Her eyes started to water. Gently, she pinched her nose shut and took a deep breath.	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,765	1,434	11	1,949	2,861	Kingdom of Vale Rozen Cafe The high society district in Vale's kingdom occupied a good dozen miles from Beacon's location was bustling with waiters and waitresses all in black tie attire. This wasn't just some hodge-podge coffee house that anyone could walk into, no, unfortunately those unsuspecting few usually walked in and received both a hearty welcome and a heart attack when seeing the ridiculous prices for their teas and sandwiches. On the upper floors which were exposed to the open air, in an unbuttoned suit and distinct lack of a tie sat a certain blonde haired von Rah. The young man stared into the dark, reflective surface of the coffee in the quaint tea cup before him with a slightly stressed look staring right back at him. His head was full of static silence. He wasn't listening to the person who sat across from him. "...Do you understand, Rood?" The sudden assertion of his name caused the blonde to look up at the woman across from him. Her hair was dark and pulled back into a concise bun and she dressed as a secretary. Probably because she was. As a matter of fact, she was the secretary of the person he was actually supposed to meet today. "Yeah..." He mumbled, averting his gaze. That was a lie. After the point of the conversation had passed, he had stopped listening to the woman altogether. It was just fluff, mindless fluff at that. The secretary knew this and heaved a large sigh. She was about to launch into a huge rant until Rood's phone went off. She glanced at the scroll, then back at him. "You should get that..." She muttered angrily. Well, that was obvious. Rood already had it open as soon as she said it. Glancing over the text, he tossed the expensive scroll over to the secretary, who read over the words and sighed again before standing. "I see. I best arrange for transport..." She stood and walked away, already dialing a number. Rood continued to stare into the dark, overly sugared coffee before him for a moment longer before taking the scalding liquid and tossing his head back to down it in one gulp. --------- A riding crop smacked between the two, hitting first Bonny and then Vlad across their chests. Glynda, looking quite annoyed with BOTH their behavior, took a step back and folded her arms. Amused, Ozpin took a sip of his coffee as he surveyed everyone that had come. Two faunus. Uncommon but not unheard of. A shark faunus was certainly different from the usual breed of mammal faunus that come through. One rather placid girl with a green hue shining off of her clothing seemed to make the air around her crackle with electricity. He noted the two silver haired students that had arrived as well, Platinum Kray and Rowan Valinn. These names were going to give him a headache during the team naming process for sure, but that was nothing new. He noted that Platinum wasn't acknowledged when she asked Vladimir a question, so he approached her himself and put a hand on his shoulder. "The activity will be announced shortly. There's still more students to come and I'd rather speak to them all when they arrive. Or at least, when one more arrives..." Ozpin trailed off as the loud sound of an aircraft approached, causing him and Glynda to look up. A small aircraft with the hatch open on both sides flew quickly towards the cliffside before stopping just above everyone present. It turned slowly, and from the shadows within stepped out Rood von Rah. He placed his chain-clad arm on the ceiling of the craft as he looked down at the other from where he stood within the craft's interior. Wind blew in all direction, causing the grass beneath them to have a rippling effect. Rood paused long enough for his red eyes to lock with everyone else's gaze before leaping out of the aircraft, swinging his arms as he dropped to the ground below. He landed with a heavy CLANK, his golden armor appearing to weigh quite a bit as he swayed downward, his palm flat on the ground before him. As he slowly stood up, the aircraft turned and departed into the distance. He walked up to the group, arms stiff and swaying at his sides, a very aggressive swagger painting his footsteps with an air of regality. The sunshine shone off his caramel toned skin and reflecting slightly off of barely wet red paint decorating his torso. As he approached, Ozpin stepped up to greet him, outstretching his hand which Rood took. "Rood von Rah, good to see you could make it afterall." Ozpin greeted politely, shaking Rood's hand before going back to his coffee. "Yeah... Sorry for being late. I look forward to the task ahead...." Rood slowly turned his head, his eyes locking onto Sage's. He went to the faunus, his arms folded. The atmosphere he cast seemed overbearing, so when he stepped up to the smaller man he seemed to loom over him. As he leaned down, a bit of a scary shadow was cast on his face. "...Do these fall off?" He asked suddenly, gently poking the faunus' antlers, his tone surprisingly light and genuinely curious. "My dad used to keep stags around and their antlers would fall off and regrow every spring." Ozpin, seeming satisfied, turned to Glynda to begin preparations. Worst case scenario, the last huntress in training would be a no show and they'd simply have to find a way to fill her spot.	Rood von Rah Age 17 Gender Male Species Human APPEARANCE Height 6'2" Weight 211 lbs Clothing Style When not having to be in Beacon's uniform, Rood ordinarily adorns himself in ornate gold armor up to the waist with a royally bold red cape sashed at his waist which billows when he walks. He wears expensive heavy golden earrings and a red stone necklace at all times regardless if he is in uniform or not. His body is decorated with intricate red paint as a symbol of his status. Hair Color Blonde Eye Color Red COMBAT Weapons Eye of Ma'at His arm is covered in chains with a speared tip at the end, making lashing out with this long range weapon a very deadly experience. The speared tip can 'flower' out into a mini revolving end which Rood can fire off AS he whips this weapon around with the help of his semblance Mehet-Weret A classic lance with decorative and intricate craftsmanship. Best when paired with Rood's semblance. Though it has the option to use Dust, a situation where that would be necessary hasn't been crossed. Or has it? Semblance Friction Manipulation Rood is able to run on air (but NOT fly), walk on water, deflect oncoming attacks, increase or decrease and object's velocity, and change his own inertia. He is also able to generate heat, but not flames by concentrating all on the friction in regards to his body's/an object's placement. Without a gun, he is able to fire off bullets at will by concentrating his friction, hence the placement of the 'gun' at the end of his whip. See 'Other' for limitations. Dust Rood is extensively knowledgeable about Dust but for some reason doesn't carry any on him. Skills Taunting Evasion Surprise PERSONALIZED Personality Brash Dominant Sensitive Regal Passionate Skills -Has taken to playing a lute -Surprisingly, enjoys working with scrapped textiles to make fashionable outfits -Sewing Background For now, Rood's personal history will be shrouded in mystery. What can be shared is common knowledge to all students attending Beacon Academy. The Rah name belonged to a very prestigious family who once ruled the Kingdom of Mistral. The family line, however, fell due to unforeseen circumstances; enemies of past generations ambushed members of the family and cut them down. Desperate to hold the prestige of the family line, the few Rah's remaining married into Atlas' own royals the Schnee's. The two familie's connected only by forced marriages ruled in their separate kingdoms once order was restored, and the purity of the Rah line was forever broken. From there, two generations down, Rood was born a von Rah. This will be the first time in his life he has ever been exposed to working with others his own age. Character Theme Though he encompasses the summation of egyptian culture and religion as a whole, Rood is best described as a genderbent Neith, the Egyptian Goddess of War who wields a masculine bow and arrow. Traded instead for his main weapon is the feminine whip and his red necklace in place of her red crown. Neith is known for her love of weaving, which I wanted to really translate to Rood; which I did in the form of him enjoying sewing and making things out of it for others. 'Rood' is Dutch for red, and 'von' is a common German name add-on, which is frequent pattern seen in the Schnee name. Rah, of course is in reference to Ra, the egyptian God of the sun. Other: Jaune is the best About Friction - Rood's Semblance is vast in its potential, this is true. Or it would be if he could do more than one of any of those things at one time. Every use of his semblance takes all of his concentration, and it doesn't take long until all that usage takes a toll. Thanks to the nature of the semblance, Rood is at constant risk for overheating or in the worst case scenario spontaneously combusting, making his ability a dangerous one to wield for not only other, but for himself.
52,766	1,434	12	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn Rowan finished applying the Dust on his gloves. He put them on, curling his fingers over the warm fabric. To give them a little test, Rowan punched his hands together, setting off a small explosion. The Dust wasn’t meant to be the power of his attacks; it was simply meant to knock his opponent off guard. It was, however, his only viable way of fighting Grimm. His Semblance only activated against creatures with an Aura, which Grimm severely lacked. This meant his fighting style changed depending on the nature of the battle. Against Grimm, he offered more raw strength. Rowan handled humans with much more finesse than the Grimm. Satisfied with his gloves, Rowan started to approach the two professors, intending on getting some answers as to what they were going to be doing. He was turned off of that idea, though, when Professor Goodwitch cracked her riding crop at the two students in front of her. “Probably don’t want to get on her bad side,” He muttered to himself. The professor was surprisingly intimidating. She didn’t immediately come across as threatening, but Rowan developed a sense of fear after witnessing her so casually disciplining the two students. Rowan felt a sudden breeze, followed by a loud humming. It gradually grew louder, causing Rowan to look up. The sight of a large aircraft made Rowan bring his arms up to shield his face. Loose leaves and sticks flew from the source of the gust. The aircraft turned to have its side face the group of students, revealing a young man hidden behind shadow. The shadow was not able to completely mask his appearance, though. His lower half was covered in armor, but his upper half was completely bare, save for what appeared to be red paint. The man jumped from the aircraft, his armor producing a loud clatter as he landed. The man walked with a purpose, and that purpose was probably to commit unspeakable acts upon the group in front of him. “Hey, anyone know if this guy is going to kill us?!” He half-shouted over the sounds of the aircraft. As if he were answering his question, Professor Ozpin went up to the student and shook his hand. Rowan lowered his arms as the winds from the aircraft settled. “Aw man, I kind of wanted to fight,” He said. He didn’t intend for anyone to hear it, but he made no effort to say it quietly. Rowan started getting antsy, itching for a fight. Whether it was Grimm or human, he anticipated the moment he would be able to release some steam.	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,767	1,434	13	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako The shark Faunus laughed as the pasty-lookin' bloke took a beating at the business end of Glynda's whippin' stick, but quickly became quiet when the auestere student-teacher set her sights on her. Bonny yelped as Goodwitch smacked her with the riding crop, flinching and hugging her chest. The pain was sharp, blistering, and most importantly of all, emanating from a very sensitive place. "Aw god, right in me tits!" she yelled. "The hell is wrong with you?!" That's when Bonny felt the slight breeze pick up into a tempest, and looked up. The wind whipping at her face had a nice cooling effect on the welt she was sporting around her chest, like a salve on a hot burn. But the helicopter landing just a few feet away from them was what caught her attention (kinda hard for it not to unless you're blind and deaf). "Who the hell is it gonna be now?" she said to herself. "James bloody Ironwood?" What she got was something quite else entirely. A bare-chested, sculpted young man about her age, tattooed from head to toe and decked out in heavy golden armor. He shook hands with the professors. Bonny rolled her eyes. Oh great, another rich kid sharkbait momma's boy landlubber who probably hasn't seen any actual fightin' outside the gym. Bet his dad bought him that armor. She squinted to take a closer look. It is nice armor though. Nice chest too. Maybe I'll steal it out in the forest and let ol' sharkbait walk back to Beacon naked. That'd show 'em. Let em walk the plank a lil' bit, heheh... Realizing what she had just been thinking, Bonny shook her head and slapped her cheeks a little. No! We don't do that anymore! We ain't in the business of punishin' people, and stealin' from the rich is only okay if they deserve it! She took a second or third look at the rich kid. It is nice armor though... That's when the rich kid, who had the courtesy to introduce himself as rude, walked over to the only other Faunus here in the group. Given her experience with how the rich elite treated Faunus, Bonny felt like she had to do something to stop him. But... "...Do these fall off?" He asked suddenly, gently poking the faunus' antlers, his tone surprisingly light and genuinely curious. "My dad used to keep stags around and their antlers would fall off and regrow every spring." She stopped. She hadn't been expecting him to ask something like that. "Well, I dunno about him," she said, trying to get his attention, "but me teeth fall out every couple o' weeks. See?" Bonny opened wide (uncomfortably wide for some), revealing rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. Reaching in to her own jagged maw, Bonny grasped a loose tooth and yanked it out. Then she spat out some blood, and held the tooth out for Rood to see like a souvenir. "Innit that cool? Tell me that's cool," she said almost proudly. "I got enough old teeth stored up to make me a couple necklaces made out of 'em! You can have one if you want." Now why the hell didya go and say that fer, ya chuckleheaded ninny? she chided herself. Cozying up to people to get them to trust you was nice and all, but hornswaggling had to have its limits.	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,768	1,434	14	2,340	7,591	Olivia Verde Before anything could escalate, Professor Student Assistant Glynda came in and bitchslapped both of them with her little whip. Olivia was fortunate enough to escape the whipping (Even though she was just as involved as everyone else - but oh well). Looks like she didn't need to put her nunchucks to use after all. Heh. She put her hands on her hips, ready to resume her little discussion with Bonny. But the freakshow sure as hell didn't stop there. Right before her vocal cords could produce the soundwaves to say "that guy was a freakshow," a god damn aircraft just show up to the side of the cliff. It was creating one hell of a wind just by being close. Blowing her hair, clothes, weapon, and just about everything else away. "Whoa, don't blow me away now!" Olivia shouted, as she threw her arms up. "Who the hell is showing up now?!" This aircraft was stealing her schtick! She was the queen of destructive winds, not no stupid hunk of metal. Someone else mentioned something about the newcomer being an enemy - and Olivia loudly snorted, following it with laughter. "Only if they got a deathwish!" Olivia cockily said to the guy - right as the Aircraft docked and let out a nice little ramp for the pampered douche to scroll right out on. The door opened, and this shirtless lad just scrolled on out like he was the king of Vale. Olivia wondered, briefly, just who the hell this guy is. And why the hell did he have to make a grand entrance? In that case, Olivia would have done something cool, too. Like fly in using her nunchucks. That'd be cooler than scrolling off a VTOL like you're James Fucking Ironwood. Olivia had to cross her arms as she sized up the newcomer as he walked over to the other Faunus of their group. Asking about his antlers. Olivia had to say; That's kinda racist. And Bonny walked over to him. Well, Olivia had to say that the newcomer was kinda hot - with his sexy chiseled abs, and his golden hair, and his tattoos and his loincloth! - but not that hot. Well, maybe he'd be really hot after taking a few million volts of electricity... hehe. For now, Olivia was going to let Bonny do her thing... which apparently included tearing her own damn teeth out like it was nothing (Ew). Olivia just hated to see what Bonny's like during a dental appointment. There's other people to chit-chat with, and plenty of fun to be had here. Olivia didn't need to hang off Bonny like a parasite. So, her brown eyes scanned for some more interesting people. There was Fighty-Mc-Fighter over there the brown hair - but Olivia figured that the only thing he'd want to do is try to punch her. Which is funny, since he's the shortest person here. She noticed another girl within their group with silver hair, standing there all in her lonesome. Oooooh, kinda cool. Well, Olivia was alone, too, so why don't they just chat until Ozpin decides to get off his old ass and let them fight a Grimm or something. Olivia walked over to the girl, and put her hands on her hips. "Hey," Olivia started off. "Saw you just standing here alone and figured I'd start a conversation." Olivia put her hands on her hips as she gave the silverhaired girl a disarming smile. She threw a thumb in the direction of the newcomer. "What do you think of Golden boy? Just showing up here in a ship like he owns the place!"	Name: Olivia Verde Age: 18 Gender: Most definitely a girl. Species: Hooman APPEARANCE Height: 5'10 Weight: 132 Clothing Style: Olivia's dresses very stylishly, and practically. Like, she dresses like an adventurer. Usually, she wears jeans, and a top of some sort. Accessorized with a stylish jacket, or belt. However, Olivia is never seen without her scarf. A green scarf with thin red stripes that she keeps wrapped around her neck. Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown COMBAT Weapon: Olivia uses nunchucks that are a jet black color with golden details in the shape of snakes. These nunchucks are seemingly made out of a metal (Just painted black), and are longer than you'd expect nunchucks to be (In terms of length, they're more like a three section staff). When she uses them in a fight, she infuses them with her semblance, and makes them glow brightly with electricity. Which is quite a shock when she's facing off with enemies. Olivia can also produce a blade out of these nunchucks with a press of a button, turning the nunchucks into something similar to sickles. When infused with electricity, they're nothing to play with at close quarters. This isn't all these nunchucks are capable of. Much like other weapons, these nunchucks are capable of transforming into a firearm. Specifically, they're capable of splitting in half, and turning into two revolvers. These revolvers have ridiculously long barrels, and shoot giant rounds. These guns are much like handcannons. Best of all, they can be infused with her semblance, firing lightning shots. Semblance: In case you haven't realized it, electricity. Olivia is capable of producing large amounts of electricity, and weaponizing it in a variety of ways. She can infuse her hands, and weapons, with the semblance to add more shock to her blows. Alternatively, she can forget that and just shoot it at people. She can't exactly shoot bolts of lightning, her semblance is more of constant streams of electricity. Dust: Dust ain't Olivia's style. Skills: Muay Thai (Her father taught her how to fight, and she's a very talented martial artist). Athletic (Capable of a variety of athletic feats). Experienced (This ain't her first rodeo). PERSONALIZED Personality: Moody/Confrontational/Cranky. Ambitious/Determined. Mischievous. Strives to be the best. Rather poor social skills. Skills: Driving (Olivia owns a motorcycle). Sparring/Practicing martial arts. Reading books. Imaginative. Background: Generic backstory, GO! Olivia was born in Vale, to a family of martial artists. Her family includes her mother, father, and her triplet little brothers. Her father was the patriarch of the family, and taught Olivia everything she knew from a young age. Expecting her to become the next big warrior for the family. Teaching her the family martial art, how to shoot, and teaching her how to fight using the nunchucks. Given the fact that she was taught ahead of time, she had a lot of training underneath her belt. Once she was old enough, she decided that she was going to become a great huntress, using her training, she applied to beacon, and passed their combat preliminaries with flying colors. Character Theme: Olivia, in terms of Semblance, and weapons, is based off Hurakan, the Mayan God of Hurricanes. Because, her general theme goes along with storms (Electricity, obvi. Nunchucks can be compared to winds, or the sort). A devastating and powerful force. There is a tattoo of a snake on her foot - echoing how one of Hurakan's legs was a snake. Serpents are also engraved in gold on her nunchucks. Much like Hurakan's himself, Olivia is a cranky, moody, force to be reckoned, a wind of destruction, with if you dare cross her. But, otherwise a very creative and laid back human being. Other: #replaceeveryonewithjaune2016
52,769	1,434	15	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Vlad, to be frank, was quite shocked at the extreme reaction from the shark Faunus. Shocked enough, in fact, that he did little more than stare slightly slack-jawed at her display after the fact, barely noticing the hit to his chest with a riding crop. How dare she claim his breath smelled bad? Maybe he had just finished lunch, but the lingering smell of it certainly wasn't anything to recoil so violently from! He might've made a rude comment, then, about having just eaten shark fin soup (he was reasonably sure it wasn't that... or he half-hoped it wasn't, anyway) for the sole purpose of angering her further, since she'd clearly decided in advance to burn down the entire forest just to ensure no bridges between him and her were built, if not for the abrupt arrival of an aircraft of some description, out of which dropped- from quite a distance- some half-naked prettyboy with armour covering his lower half and nothing but paint on his upper half, making a scene of his presence as though he were the king of the world. About as regal as a rock off a cliff, it occurred to Vladimir, or perhaps like James "Douchebag" Ironwood. In any case, Vlad now counted seven students, including himself. Six, if one ignored the frankly rude Faunus who was now oooooookay, he was just going to pretend he didn't just watch her yank out a tooth like it was nothing. Well, maybe it was. Sharks lost teeth at a rapid rate, so he presumed it was the same for her. Nonetheless, he had no interest in further communication with her; she was occupied with the newcomer and the stag Faunus, so all of them were out; the other two women were presently occupied with one another's company, it seemed... which left the brown-haired man in the red longcoat. That definitely appealed to Vlad's sense of fashion, so he strolled over to him, eyeing his hands as the fists, clad in fingerless gloves, were brought together, causing a low-key explosion. Very low-key. Vlad highly doubted such an attack would injure most Grimm, or do little more than slightly knock back the majority of human fighters. "Please do tell me that that isn't your only weapon, sir," Vlad began quietly, "or you're going to embarrass whatever you throw your first punch at. Really, do they even... turn into, uh... oh my God, you're short..." the Blood Dragon quietly trailed off with a head tilt, realising at last just how much taller he was than his new conversation partner - probably a good foot or so, at a rough guess. Come to think of it, he realised, it seemed as though he was substantially taller and bulkier than everybody in the clearing, with the only person even coming close to the former being the newest member of the group and Professor Ozpin himself, and his musculature only being vaguely matched by the same golden-haired semi-nudist. Vlad's ego practically beamed as he recognised this, though his face continued to appear surprised as he looked round, and his combat-savvy side reminded him that neither of his physical advantages was necessarily so should he end up fighting any of the group, if they managed to use their reduced size to evade him effectively. Whether they would or not... But where were his manners, and his attempts to make at least one new ally today? Vlad turned back to the longcoat-wearing character, all smiles and charm now, and politely said to him "My apologies for that. I forget myself and my stature sometimes... the name's Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka. Vlad for short. And yourself?"	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,770	1,434	16	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn ”Well, I dunno about him, but my teeth fall out every couple o’ weeks. See?” Rowan, intrigued by the conversation taking place, turned to witness the shark Faunus reach into her mouth and rip out a tooth. What followed was a mouthful of blood, and the look of pure satisfaction on the Faunus’ face. He chuckled at the sight of the girl. He wasn’t too sure whether he was supposed to be impressed or disturbed, so he went with impressed. She must be tougher than James "Jack-ass" Ironwood to mutilate her own body like that. The commotion from the newest arrival’s entrance settled as he became fascinated with the antlers of one of the Faunus. Rowan, unlike most of the wealthy in Atlas, never discriminated against the Faunus. Growing up, most of the staff in his house were Faunus. They were always kind to him, no matter the circumstances. In fact, until he went to combat school, many of the staff were his only source of social interaction. Friendships blossomed between him and the staff. His parents didn't approve, but they didn't stop it, either. Rowan noticed the tall, dark-haired man break away from the group of students. He approached Rowan, taking note of his gloves. ”Please do tell me that that isn't your only weapon, sir, or you’re going to embarrass whatever you throw your first punch at.” The boy trailed off, mumbling something about Rowan’s height. Rowan was about to respond, but the man in front of him quickly regained his composure. ”My apologies for that. I forget myself and my stature sometimes… the name’s Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka. Vlad for short. And yourself?” “I’m Rowan. Rowan Dmitri Valinn, if you want to get formal. I can’t even count how many times people have commented on my rather... lacking weapon," Rowan gave Vlad a quizzical look, "But what I don’t understand is why so many other Huntsmen feel the need to have such extravagant weapons. Are they compensating for something? Because let me tell you, I definitely don’t need to compensate for anything. I’ve got all I need, right here,” He said as he flexed his arms. While he was an ant compared to the giant standing before him, Rowan was well toned, and it showed.	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,771	1,434	17	1,949	2,861	Before any more could be said, Ozpin stepped forward, preparations complete. "Alright everyone, unfortunately we're short one person but I'm afraid we'll have to make due." To the right of the pale haired professor was a row of metal plated pedestals that rested on the grass near the cliff's edge. "Everyone, take your place on one of these metal plates and be ready for anything." As Ozpin went on, Glynda sat nearby with her arms folded and a stern look on her face. Rood, in the meanwhile, had turned to Bonny to observe what she had said. His initial reaction was revulsion, flinching away from the blood spurting from the shark faunus's mouth. Revulsion quickly turned to intrigue and he took the offered tooth, his red eyes wide and examining the sharp bone. A somewhat child like fascination lit up his chiseled features. It was like one could see little stars sparkling around him as he turned the tooth over to examine it closer and looked up at Bonny with a slight smile when she said he could keep it. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was then that Ozpin had spoken up. For now, he gingerly placed the tooth into the folds of his cape against his waist and stood on the pedastels between Rowan and Vlad, not that he knew their names yet. As others went to stand on the pedastels, the golden haired boy crouched down, ready for anything as he waited for others to take their place. In the meantime, Ozpin explained what they were doing. "You are to go to the other end of the emerald forest and retrieve a key piece that will be vital to you passing this examination. If you land and make eye contact with someone, then those you see will immediately become your teammates and it is up to you to make your team work." PM me your Team preference, if any. I will make the selection of who is made into a team based on character likeness, user preference, and a wildcard system. When you make your post, if your character has any questions with Ozpin, let me know and we can do a small collab before they are unwittingly launched into the Emerald Forest. First come, first serve. There is no real order to who will be launched when so feel free to contact me when you can and we'll get you set up. The team system will go: Team mate 1 meets with Team mate 2 : I will pm who meets who Team mate 3 meets with Team mate 4 : ^ Full team : PM which teams of 2 meet up. This will become your official team for the rest of the role play. If our AFK's don't post soon, then I will take extra measures to ensure the quota of 8 players is met. Welcome to Vale.	Rood von Rah Age 17 Gender Male Species Human APPEARANCE Height 6'2" Weight 211 lbs Clothing Style When not having to be in Beacon's uniform, Rood ordinarily adorns himself in ornate gold armor up to the waist with a royally bold red cape sashed at his waist which billows when he walks. He wears expensive heavy golden earrings and a red stone necklace at all times regardless if he is in uniform or not. His body is decorated with intricate red paint as a symbol of his status. Hair Color Blonde Eye Color Red COMBAT Weapons Eye of Ma'at His arm is covered in chains with a speared tip at the end, making lashing out with this long range weapon a very deadly experience. The speared tip can 'flower' out into a mini revolving end which Rood can fire off AS he whips this weapon around with the help of his semblance Mehet-Weret A classic lance with decorative and intricate craftsmanship. Best when paired with Rood's semblance. Though it has the option to use Dust, a situation where that would be necessary hasn't been crossed. Or has it? Semblance Friction Manipulation Rood is able to run on air (but NOT fly), walk on water, deflect oncoming attacks, increase or decrease and object's velocity, and change his own inertia. He is also able to generate heat, but not flames by concentrating all on the friction in regards to his body's/an object's placement. Without a gun, he is able to fire off bullets at will by concentrating his friction, hence the placement of the 'gun' at the end of his whip. See 'Other' for limitations. Dust Rood is extensively knowledgeable about Dust but for some reason doesn't carry any on him. Skills Taunting Evasion Surprise PERSONALIZED Personality Brash Dominant Sensitive Regal Passionate Skills -Has taken to playing a lute -Surprisingly, enjoys working with scrapped textiles to make fashionable outfits -Sewing Background For now, Rood's personal history will be shrouded in mystery. What can be shared is common knowledge to all students attending Beacon Academy. The Rah name belonged to a very prestigious family who once ruled the Kingdom of Mistral. The family line, however, fell due to unforeseen circumstances; enemies of past generations ambushed members of the family and cut them down. Desperate to hold the prestige of the family line, the few Rah's remaining married into Atlas' own royals the Schnee's. The two familie's connected only by forced marriages ruled in their separate kingdoms once order was restored, and the purity of the Rah line was forever broken. From there, two generations down, Rood was born a von Rah. This will be the first time in his life he has ever been exposed to working with others his own age. Character Theme Though he encompasses the summation of egyptian culture and religion as a whole, Rood is best described as a genderbent Neith, the Egyptian Goddess of War who wields a masculine bow and arrow. Traded instead for his main weapon is the feminine whip and his red necklace in place of her red crown. Neith is known for her love of weaving, which I wanted to really translate to Rood; which I did in the form of him enjoying sewing and making things out of it for others. 'Rood' is Dutch for red, and 'von' is a common German name add-on, which is frequent pattern seen in the Schnee name. Rah, of course is in reference to Ra, the egyptian God of the sun. Other: Jaune is the best About Friction - Rood's Semblance is vast in its potential, this is true. Or it would be if he could do more than one of any of those things at one time. Every use of his semblance takes all of his concentration, and it doesn't take long until all that usage takes a toll. Thanks to the nature of the semblance, Rood is at constant risk for overheating or in the worst case scenario spontaneously combusting, making his ability a dangerous one to wield for not only other, but for himself.
52,772	1,434	18	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Vlad admired the short boy's physique for a moment after Ozpin had spoken, privately admitting that it wasn't half-bad for somebody of Rowan's height and that he might have been interested if he were female, but ultimately decided to point out the obvious as they walked over to the pedestals: "I believe the point of such "extravagant" weapons is that they provide multiple options. You are restricted to punching, and harder punching. Meanwhile," he continued, drawing Maw and Breath from their respective sheaths as preparation for his imminent launching (and partially for the sake of making a big impression), the sword in his right hand and the gun in his left, "I, for instance, have options to punch, stab, slash, shoot, or pistol whip, never mind what opportunities open themselves up to me when Maw and Breath here actually transform. But you'll have to see how that pans out in the forest, won't you?" he said, finishing the conversation by looking half-round, half-over the half-nude blond prettyboy from before. With that said, he turned to face the forest itself, weapons at the ready to do their thing, and himself ready for pretty much anything.	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,773	1,434	19	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako Bonny couldn't help but feel a little happy when the blonde boy accepted her tooth not out of awkwardness or obligation, but genuine curiosity and gratitude. He liked her gift. That was a rare thing for a Faunus to experience in this world. Thanks. Buuuuut that happiness couldn't quite compare to what she felt when she saw the launch pads, which could only be described accurately as "perverse glee". She shivered from excitement, her voice trembling. "Ohohohoooo, I know exactly where this be going," she said with a shark smile that seemed way too big for a human mouth to fit. Without another word, the smiling shark girl pounced on the launch pad, adjusting Revenge so it fit around her shoulders like a backpack. She turned to look at Olivia and the blonde kid behind her, giving them both a wave and a flash of her wide, bright smile. "I be seeing ye on the other side, lads and lasses! Don't be givin' 'em no quarter now! Remember, no prey no pay, so give 'em hell!" She said to Ozpin, "Fire her up, captain! I be ready to give me twenty-one gun salute." Bonny stood there, itching and adjusting her weapon as she waited patiently for the fun to start. But then she remembered something she'd forgotten to say, and knocked the stinky tall bloke next to her with a light punch on the shoulder. "Race ye there, landlubber."	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,774	1,434	20	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn Rowan turned his attention to the headmaster, who had instructed them all to take their place upon the metallic squares lining the edge of the cliff. Rowan only now noticed the metal plates. Had they been there the whole time? Rowan shrugged it off. He probably noticed them when her first arrived, then promptly dismissed the though of them. He followed Vlad, having to speed walk to keep up with his longer strides. “You’ve got a point. Does it really matter, though? My opponents wouldn’t last more than a minute, anyways,” He said half-jokingly. Rowan claimed one of the pedestals as his own, with the newest arrival taking the spot in between him and Vlad. The boy, Rood, if Rowan heard Ozpin correctly, was taller than him. It seemed to be a running theme at the cliffs. Rowan cursed his genes for making him the size of a dwarf. Rowan rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He loved the thrill of a fight, and he hoped that there were going to be plenty in the forest below. After all, they were at a Huntsman academy, which trains people to be fighters. It would be a shame for their initiation to lack one of the fundamental aspects of being a Huntsman.	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,775	1,434	21	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka "Hmph. We'll see about tha-" he started, before being interrupted by the shark Faunus' friendly punch to his upper arm. Turning to face her, he ended up quite surprised at her request for a race, of all things. It was at this moment that the platforms to his left began to flip upward, flinging their occupants toward the forest. Turning back to the shark girl with a grin on his face, he only had time to say "Looks like I get a head-start. Toodles." The next moment, he was spinning through the air at high velocity, the forest sailing by below him like an ocean of green, yet ever so steadily it began accelerating toward him as his upward momentum failed and gravity began to take its toll. The young man yawned at the approach of the trees, then aimed his pistol roughly downward and, every couple of seconds, fired it once or twice to reduce how fast he fell. This was not as effective as he'd hoped, but still enough that he dropped into the forest canopy at an angle, rather than falling straight down like a rock; once in the canopy itself, and doing his utmost to ignore the slowly-increasing annoyance of being whipped by a great many twig-sized branches per second, he did he best to keep an eye open for a suitably wide branch to use as a hook. In short order, he spied one in the near distance, coming up fast as he fell; aiming Breath, he activated the mechanism to open up its grapple mechanism, then fired once, sending the beartrap-like hooks flying toward the branch, succeeding in scoring a direct hit that clamped the end of the gun around the branch's width. Almost immediately, Vlad's momentum changed, sending him soaring in an arc around the branch that threatened to slam him into the ground full-force if he wasn't careful; waiting until just the right moment, he retracted the grapple toward himself, increasing his speed as the circle he was travelling round shrunk, but placing himself at just the right distance to... All at once, the grapple unhooked itself and retracted back to the main body of the oversized pistol, sending the man running along at ground level, his feet barely keeping up with the speed at which he found himself moving, and he realised that he was almost certainly going to trip and fall if he didn't resolve that problem immediately. A large and probably quite old tree found itself a victim of his momentum-reducing strategy, ending up with a sword wedged into its wood and carving a circle through its many layers as Vlad's body span round and round, gradually slowing down until, finally, he ceased to move altogether, rather dizzy but no worse for wear. Taking a few moments to breath deeply, both to minimise the adrenaline pulsing through his system and to recover his sense of balance, he absent-mindedly pulled Maw through what little of the tree's wood remained connected to its stump, yanking the weapon free, then finishing the plant's execution by pushing the upper half of its trunk with one foot, slowly overbalancing it until it fell with a great crashing of smashed branches and impacted dirt, resulting in a small clearing of sunlight in the forest's otherwise-shady interior. Left with his own thoughts for a short moment, he smiled to himself at how successful his landing strategy had been, then steeled himself for the journey ahead. Chances were, he'd need all his wits to acquire whatever "key piece" it was that Ozpin had mentioned, and a fair portion of his combat skill to boot. Beyond that, he couldn't say, but he was quite sure he'd be fine regardless. Orienting himself in the direction he believed he was flying a few moments ago, he began to pace forward, sheathing his sword momentarily to reload his gun, and keeping both in hand, in case anything happened to fly out at him from nowhere.	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,776	1,434	22	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako Bonny smiled. "Heh. So you think, you rotten little scallywag." Her pad launched her a fraction of a second later, sending her careening into the forest. Then, at the height of her arc, she depressed the trigger on her backpack cannon, and an explosion, more like a gout of flame than anything, launched her further in the air, the recoil sustaining her flight. She pressed it again, and in a hippity-hoppity sort of way she sailed over the forest canopy, screaming "ON YER LEFT!" as she flew over the tall, pasty kid's head. Bonny lifted her head back and howled, cackling. "I love me some breachin' on a cool afternoon!" A series of explosions rocked the forest as Bonny's cannon continued to fire. Finally, once she was sure she was ahead of everyone else (or at least everyone she didn't like), she decided to land, delaying that last push of a button until mere moments before she hit the ground. The cannon sounded, and the ground beneath her dissipated into a fine, soft dirt that settled beneath her and cushioned her landing. Bonny dusted herself off, surveying the trail of destruction she'd left in her wake. She wondered how many Grimm she'd killed?	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,777	1,434	23	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn Rowan laughed at the rivalry between the shark girl and Vlad. Her eccentric behavior seemed to get a rise out of quite a few of the others. Rowan watched as the two were launched into the sky, with the Faunus flying over the head of Vlad. “Well, guess it’s my turn.” Rowan crouched down just before the launchpad activated, sending him soaring into the air. He never really enjoyed being this high, but if the task required it, then he would persevere. The crisp air stung his face, causing him to close his eyes slightly. The other students preferred to stay in the air as long as possible, using their guns and… a cannon… to maintain their flight. Rowan, on the other hand, aimed directly for the ground. He could feel his Aura preemptively travelling to his feet in order to absorb the shock of the landing. His trajectory allowed for him to land in a small clearing, void of any trees that would hinder his descent. He landed with a loud thud, stirring up a large cloud of dust at his feet. The impact drained a portion of his Aura, but not a significant amount. Rowan surveyed the area around him. He could not spot any immediate threats, so he took off at a jog, heading the opposite direction of the cliffs. He had no idea what they needed to look for, other than the fact that it resembled a key piece. Whether that was literal or not, Rowan had no clue.	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,778	1,434	24	1,949	2,861	Rood watched as all the others took off, each with their own unique style of maneuvering. He smirked as he watched them, amused if at least for a moment. He crouched down, ready to be thrown off into the open air. But a moment later, he still stood with Ozpin. Puzzled, he looked over to the blonde professor, relaxing his pose just slightly. "Rood. I trust what we talked about won't become an issue later... will it?" The Professor asked, his eyes just visible over the rims of his round spectacles. Rood stared back, meeting his gaze eye for an eye. The air grew tense, heavy with the atmosphere between the two. At last, Rood parted his lips slowly, looking to the left. "I can't make any promises." He ended with his lips pressed together into a hard line. They remained quiet a moment longer. Ozpin took a very long, awkward sip of his coffee, placing his other hand behind his back in the meanwhile. "Pity." Then Rood was launched into the air. He'd been less prepared for it... but still he went on, flipping through the air several times while he tried to regain his balance, he eventually was able to right himself. He looked down below him, and then raised both his arms up in front of his face, concentrating. The air before the blonde egyptian pulsated and sparked until a barrier formed around it. From above, it looked like a shooting star was being sent down into the Earth. It soared brightly, burning like liquid gold across the forest until it landed far ahead of the trees into a clearing between them. There, he landed like a meteor, cratering the ground for a good dozen yards until he came to a stop, the dirt piled up around him. He lay there on his back, unfurling like a dead spider in reverse, his arms at his sides and legs splayed out. He'd gotten dirty, but that was obvious. His blonde hair a sloppy mess all around his face. Slowly, he cracked open his red eyes and gave a piercing look to the sky above. Then his eyes opened wide as he realized his body was smoking. "H... HWAAUGH!!!" Rood sat up, panting loudly and looking around like a madman, his body feeling ready to burst into flames. He spotted a creek nearby and ran to it wildly, arms up. He leapt into it, dissappearing beneath the surface. Above him, the water gave off much steam. A moment later the blonde teenager raised his head up, catching a floating lilly pad on his crown so it appeared to be some sort of unstylish hat. A relaxed, goofy smile played on his features as he rested his eyes. For now, he simply basked in not burning alive, letting out a soft "hmmm~" as he rested in the cool running creek. --------------------- Nearby a certain blonde haired shark faunus, however, a set of red eyes stared at her through the bushes. It's friend, you see, had been killed by her reckless canoning. It didn't remain stealthy for long. With a loud roar, the Grimm and it's Ursa cohorts charged straight for the faunus. Five of the beasts hassled at her from all sides with the one right before her taking a viscious swing.	Rood von Rah Age 17 Gender Male Species Human APPEARANCE Height 6'2" Weight 211 lbs Clothing Style When not having to be in Beacon's uniform, Rood ordinarily adorns himself in ornate gold armor up to the waist with a royally bold red cape sashed at his waist which billows when he walks. He wears expensive heavy golden earrings and a red stone necklace at all times regardless if he is in uniform or not. His body is decorated with intricate red paint as a symbol of his status. Hair Color Blonde Eye Color Red COMBAT Weapons Eye of Ma'at His arm is covered in chains with a speared tip at the end, making lashing out with this long range weapon a very deadly experience. The speared tip can 'flower' out into a mini revolving end which Rood can fire off AS he whips this weapon around with the help of his semblance Mehet-Weret A classic lance with decorative and intricate craftsmanship. Best when paired with Rood's semblance. Though it has the option to use Dust, a situation where that would be necessary hasn't been crossed. Or has it? Semblance Friction Manipulation Rood is able to run on air (but NOT fly), walk on water, deflect oncoming attacks, increase or decrease and object's velocity, and change his own inertia. He is also able to generate heat, but not flames by concentrating all on the friction in regards to his body's/an object's placement. Without a gun, he is able to fire off bullets at will by concentrating his friction, hence the placement of the 'gun' at the end of his whip. See 'Other' for limitations. Dust Rood is extensively knowledgeable about Dust but for some reason doesn't carry any on him. Skills Taunting Evasion Surprise PERSONALIZED Personality Brash Dominant Sensitive Regal Passionate Skills -Has taken to playing a lute -Surprisingly, enjoys working with scrapped textiles to make fashionable outfits -Sewing Background For now, Rood's personal history will be shrouded in mystery. What can be shared is common knowledge to all students attending Beacon Academy. The Rah name belonged to a very prestigious family who once ruled the Kingdom of Mistral. The family line, however, fell due to unforeseen circumstances; enemies of past generations ambushed members of the family and cut them down. Desperate to hold the prestige of the family line, the few Rah's remaining married into Atlas' own royals the Schnee's. The two familie's connected only by forced marriages ruled in their separate kingdoms once order was restored, and the purity of the Rah line was forever broken. From there, two generations down, Rood was born a von Rah. This will be the first time in his life he has ever been exposed to working with others his own age. Character Theme Though he encompasses the summation of egyptian culture and religion as a whole, Rood is best described as a genderbent Neith, the Egyptian Goddess of War who wields a masculine bow and arrow. Traded instead for his main weapon is the feminine whip and his red necklace in place of her red crown. Neith is known for her love of weaving, which I wanted to really translate to Rood; which I did in the form of him enjoying sewing and making things out of it for others. 'Rood' is Dutch for red, and 'von' is a common German name add-on, which is frequent pattern seen in the Schnee name. Rah, of course is in reference to Ra, the egyptian God of the sun. Other: Jaune is the best About Friction - Rood's Semblance is vast in its potential, this is true. Or it would be if he could do more than one of any of those things at one time. Every use of his semblance takes all of his concentration, and it doesn't take long until all that usage takes a toll. Thanks to the nature of the semblance, Rood is at constant risk for overheating or in the worst case scenario spontaneously combusting, making his ability a dangerous one to wield for not only other, but for himself.
52,779	1,434	25	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako Bonny swung her cannon around, using it to absorb the brunt of the blow. "Well shiver me timbers, that didn't take long," she remarked casually before bludgeoning the bear Grimm with it. Leaving the creature momentarily stunned, Bonny spun around and opened fire on the other four, blasting them to bits with well-placed cannon-fire. A charged electric shot fried the Ursa on her far left while the Ursa next to it froze solid, the Ursa on the far right getting a taste of what it felt like to be a meteor as the flaming cannonball to its gut carried it away like a ballistic bear missile before exploding in a tree-clearing blast. She had no Dust to spare the last Ursa of the four, so she decided to make some of her own fun and shot a plain ol' cannonball right between its knees, lining up a shot right to the skull mask on its noggin as it doubled over. Taking a moment to bask in the satisfaction of that last kill, Bonny nearly missed the sound of the first Ursa getting its land legs back, and her dodging was less than nimble as she tumbled out of the way of its claws at the last second. "Shit!" she cussed, clicking the firing button on her cannon only to be met with the sound of an empty cylinder. "Double shit!" She'd designed the Revenge with multiple chambers to avoid too much inconvenient reloading in battle. But with the cannonballs she'd already used just landing, her cylinder was empty, and she'd need at least thirty seconds to reload it completely. Precious seconds she didn't have. So what she did instead was reach for her flask and the wood-and-metal rammer covered in white cloth that was hanging at her waist. Taking a swig of rum, she struck the wooden stick against the Grimm's coarse fur, setting the Dust-imbued cloth ablaze, and spewed the alcohol back at the Ursa. While this confused the bear at first, it quickly got the message when the fire erupted into a flamethrower-like gout, and it ran away with its fur on fire, whimpering and trying to pat itself out. "And that be that, then," she said, picking up her cannon. "Alright, now let's reload you, ye salty dog..."	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,780	1,434	26	269	2,330	Looks like we've abandoned coloured text, huh? Alright, then. Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Vlad had found himself walking for a few minutes, with not much to see or hear aside from trees, plants, and birds. At least, not until the sounds of quite a vicious and explosive fight came to his ear. He wondered who that could be making such noise, as he began to run toward the fight - somebody with a gun, obviously, and it sounded quite strong too. Maybe the blond-haired prettyboy? Or perhaps that one Faunus with the stag horns? Or maybe shorty had hidden a gun on him somewhere, and didn't want to mention it? Vlad pondered at the possibilities, eager to find out. He found himself in a clearing, on the opposite side to the one person he rather desperately didn't want to be teamed with for the next four years. She did, as it happened, have a cannon on her person... and what was that he'd imagined about her pre-emptively burning down forests earlier? Because the Ursa she'd just fought was running away, fur on fire, with her seeing it off as it ran, then mentioning something about reloading. It didn't appear that she'd heard him enter, and as it happened, she was facing away from him. Now, what had Ozpin's exact words been? Oh yes, "the first person you make eye contact with will be your partner". No eye contact yet, so no obligation to team up, right? With that decided, Vlad silently turned to leave, and was promptly knocked on his back (and his weapons away from him) by a Beowolf lunging from nowhere, teeth trying to tear his face off, only held back by fast reflexes and two hands between its jaws, which he now exerted a fair amount of effort to pull apart until a pair of loud cracking noises occurred, and the Grimm's body fell limp atop him. The dead weight was rolled aside, Vlad grabbed his gun and his sword, and it was at this point that he realised that he was now surrounded by the rest of the Beowolf's pack. Some ten or so creatures, all snarling viciously at him (and, he noticed, ignoring Sharky for the time being), and led by a slightly bigger, slightly more ornate Beowolf that he assumed was the alpha. He looked around himself to assess these odds, nodded once or twice, then managed to mutter "Well, goody," to himself before every wolf charged him at once. His escape was made with a great upward leap over the group, landing just outside the melee and bringing his sword down one-handed on the neck of the nearest, unprepared Grimm, half-decapitating it and ending its life in one blow, with another two or three gunned down and the sword freed before the rest regrouped and attacked again. This time, the Blood Dragon was better prepared to fight back: Breath unfurled into its trap form, only to clamp back down on one of the lunging Beowolves, keeping it held as Maw swung round and slashed into its body, once, twice, before the hapless Grimm was brought round into another lunging creature with enough force to break its neck. The gun unfurled from its victim, and was promptly fired, sending the grapple straight into another of the creatures and knocking it back some even as Vlad's attention turned to a twinned assault from two other pack members, Maw's blade slicing through one's skull, and Breath's hilt cracking into the other's, stunning it for the moment, and giving him time to draw back the grapple on his gun, dragging the trapped foe toward him at significant speed. He readied himself, then just as it drew near, released Breath's beartrap-like grip, at the same time throwing a punch that combined with the Beowolf's own momentum to shatter its skullpiece outright. As the corpse dropped down and began to disintegrate, Vlad took the opportunity to unload the remaining bullets in Maw into the previously-dazed Grimm, slaying the final opponent. Final, save for the alpha, which almost seemed to take note of Vlad's empty weapon, and sprung toward him full force, ready to slash out his throat given the opportunity. But, alas, in vain: Vladimir's gun moved up, and the clip was ejected directly into the alpha's face, distracting it and letting Vlad reload properly, only to double the beast over with a jab to the solar plexus. Vlad took a moment to decide whether ending the creature now was worth it, then resheathed his weapons, made his hands into fists and swung directly into the wolf's snout, knocking it down on the spot; a kick or two to the head to daze it swiftly followed, and then the alpha was lifted over Vlad's head momentarily, before being brought down full-force on to his knee, shattering its back and forcing a howl of pain from its broken body. Leader thoroughly broken, the still-living alpha Beowolf was chucked to the ground, writhing in agony. Drawing his sword again, Vlad casually walked over to the creature, straddled it across its chest to hold its arms in place, then deliberately brought Maw's hilt down into the thickest part of its skull, over and over and over, pausing just once to see if it was still alive, then doubling up the blows until, after some thirty to thirty five strikes, the thing finally expired. He allowed it to aerosolise beneath him before taking a deep breath, resheathing Maw, and returning to his feet. And then he realised he was looking directly at the shark Faunus. He quickly turned away, covering his eyes with one hand and muttering "No, hell, hell no, God damn it," and wondering if he had yet looked into her eyes, whether it had happened accidentally during his fight, or perhaps whether he'd done it just then. He thought he hadn't? No, he was quite sure that he hadn't, and even if he had, there was no way he'd ever, ever... he gritted his teeth, then finally released something halfway between a sigh of resignation and a groan of disgust. Clearly, Ozpin's intent had been that one formed a pair with the first student they saw at all, and that following the letter of what had been said rather than the spirit would somehow be figured out, and probably reprimanded in some way or another. Relenting to the inevitability of fate, Vlad turned back to the Faunus and walked over, putting on a fake, too-wide smile to display his unhappiness with the situation. "Well, Sharky," he said in a tone of manufactured, sarcastic glee that matched his facial expression as he approached, "I guess we're partners now. For four years. Give or take a few months. How does that make you feel?"	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,781	1,434	27	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn The forest’s general quietness put Rowan on edge. He’d been jogging at a light pace for several minutes now, and had heard nothing but the distant sound of gunfire. That changed, though, when he heard an explosion ahead. It was obviously caused by a human. The Grimm, to his knowledge, simply couldn't cause explosions. He curiously stepped closer, his fists at the ready. What he saw caused him to lose all composure. The explosion wasn’t an explosion, but actually the last student crashing into the ground. Rowan saw the crater left in the ground from where the boy landed. Rowan caught sight of the boy responsible for the crater, whose flesh was now smoking. He burst out laughing as the boy panicked and ran for a nearby body of water. It was fortunate that there was one so close, otherwise the boy would have been miserable for several minutes while his Aura repaired the damage. The boy stayed under the surface for longer than what was probably necessary. The steam produced from the heat began to fill the air. When the boy finally rose, he caught a lily pad on the top of his head. Rowan doubled over, not even trying to contain his laughter any longer. If there was any doubt that the boy could hear his laughter before, there wasn’t anymore. Rowan regained his composure, and walked into clear view of the boy. “You know, I’ve never seen a more elegant landing strategy. You’ll have to teach me your ways. I'm Rowan, by the way."	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,782	1,434	28	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako Bonny reached into her pack for some more cannonballs to load, but was interrupted by the sound of about twenty Grimm being viciously mauled in a hurricane of over the top carnage and violence, with a little salty language mixed in. So, another student then. The shark Faunus turned around to help the person she assumed would be her partner from now on, only to catch a look from the pasty-lookin' bloke, who was currently beating back a batallion of Beowolves. Bonny sighed. "Well damn. Might as well see how he does, I s'pose." Bonny leaned back against a tree, and resumed loading her cannon while continuing to watch the fight. She'd had her suspicions that the pasty giant had more talk than he had walk, but she saw now he'd earned the "tall, dark and edgy" look as he mauled an alpha Beowolf with his bare hands, breaking its back over his knee like a steroid-fueled lucha libre. "Not bad," she said to herself, running through all the different ways she might've handled it in her head. Then he mounted it and started beating it to death with the blunt side of his weapon, which was just excessive. Certainly he could've stopped after the twentieth time? That's when he finally turned around and looked at her, before turning around again and cursing quietly to himself. Bonny frowned. She took offense to that. Then he walked over to her with the fakest looking shark smile (she should know) and said a bunch of vaguely mean things while calling her "Sharky". "How does that make you feel?" Bonny shrugged. "Meh. Glad me back isn't being trusted to some green Jack Tar who doesn't know their way around a dozen odd Grimm or so I s'pose. Now, come on then! Stop hanging the jib and let's make haste! We're both measured fer our chains now, so let's get the blasted key!"	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,783	1,434	29	1,949	2,861	Hm...? The golden haired would-be pharaoh opened his eyes and stood a little straighter in the water when he noticed laughter nearby. At him, no less. One of the guys from earlier with the stylish red trench coat walked into view and introduced himself as Rowan. Rood climbed out of the creek and sat on the bank while unlatching a part of his golden armor that were the boots and turning them over to dump them out, a small Grimm fish angirly flopping out of it and back into the running water. As he did this with both boots, he talked over his shoulder. "Rood. Rood von Rah." He finished with his task and stood up to slip the heavy armored boots back on and latch them back into place. Raising his hands which glowed a soft, off red, he shook his wet hair with both hands, sending water droplets scattering everywhere and with the combined heat, drying his hair rather quickly. He walked forward toward Rowan. "Looks like we'll be teammates then. Good." He paused to fold his arms over his chest and inspect the ... wow... okay yeah this guy was short. He looked taller when Rood was on the ground, but standing so close in front of him, this guy was... hm. He leaned down, squinting at Rowan with his red eyes. "You're kind of a small fry, aren't you? It seems to me the Grimm would hardly get a mouthful out of you." His eyes narrowed at the smaller man. "I mean, that's a good thing and all. Makes you less of a target. Then again that coat really makes you more like... a moving small target. A challenge." Rood mulled this over, raising his eyebrows when considering Rowan's stature from the perspective of a Grimm. He straightened up, scratching his clean shaven chin a little and turned west, a direction most likely opposite of where they needed to go, and began to walk forward in his perplexed state. His armor clinked loudly with each step, dripping a little water here and there wherever it went.	Rood von Rah Age 17 Gender Male Species Human APPEARANCE Height 6'2" Weight 211 lbs Clothing Style When not having to be in Beacon's uniform, Rood ordinarily adorns himself in ornate gold armor up to the waist with a royally bold red cape sashed at his waist which billows when he walks. He wears expensive heavy golden earrings and a red stone necklace at all times regardless if he is in uniform or not. His body is decorated with intricate red paint as a symbol of his status. Hair Color Blonde Eye Color Red COMBAT Weapons Eye of Ma'at His arm is covered in chains with a speared tip at the end, making lashing out with this long range weapon a very deadly experience. The speared tip can 'flower' out into a mini revolving end which Rood can fire off AS he whips this weapon around with the help of his semblance Mehet-Weret A classic lance with decorative and intricate craftsmanship. Best when paired with Rood's semblance. Though it has the option to use Dust, a situation where that would be necessary hasn't been crossed. Or has it? Semblance Friction Manipulation Rood is able to run on air (but NOT fly), walk on water, deflect oncoming attacks, increase or decrease and object's velocity, and change his own inertia. He is also able to generate heat, but not flames by concentrating all on the friction in regards to his body's/an object's placement. Without a gun, he is able to fire off bullets at will by concentrating his friction, hence the placement of the 'gun' at the end of his whip. See 'Other' for limitations. Dust Rood is extensively knowledgeable about Dust but for some reason doesn't carry any on him. Skills Taunting Evasion Surprise PERSONALIZED Personality Brash Dominant Sensitive Regal Passionate Skills -Has taken to playing a lute -Surprisingly, enjoys working with scrapped textiles to make fashionable outfits -Sewing Background For now, Rood's personal history will be shrouded in mystery. What can be shared is common knowledge to all students attending Beacon Academy. The Rah name belonged to a very prestigious family who once ruled the Kingdom of Mistral. The family line, however, fell due to unforeseen circumstances; enemies of past generations ambushed members of the family and cut them down. Desperate to hold the prestige of the family line, the few Rah's remaining married into Atlas' own royals the Schnee's. The two familie's connected only by forced marriages ruled in their separate kingdoms once order was restored, and the purity of the Rah line was forever broken. From there, two generations down, Rood was born a von Rah. This will be the first time in his life he has ever been exposed to working with others his own age. Character Theme Though he encompasses the summation of egyptian culture and religion as a whole, Rood is best described as a genderbent Neith, the Egyptian Goddess of War who wields a masculine bow and arrow. Traded instead for his main weapon is the feminine whip and his red necklace in place of her red crown. Neith is known for her love of weaving, which I wanted to really translate to Rood; which I did in the form of him enjoying sewing and making things out of it for others. 'Rood' is Dutch for red, and 'von' is a common German name add-on, which is frequent pattern seen in the Schnee name. Rah, of course is in reference to Ra, the egyptian God of the sun. Other: Jaune is the best About Friction - Rood's Semblance is vast in its potential, this is true. Or it would be if he could do more than one of any of those things at one time. Every use of his semblance takes all of his concentration, and it doesn't take long until all that usage takes a toll. Thanks to the nature of the semblance, Rood is at constant risk for overheating or in the worst case scenario spontaneously combusting, making his ability a dangerous one to wield for not only other, but for himself.
52,784	1,434	30	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn Rowan watched the boy empty the waterlogged boots onto the forest floor. The fish that somehow managed to fit into the boot did not seem too fond of its change in environment, so it wobbled its way back into the creek. The blonde boy, Rood, re equipped his boots before standing up and drying off his hair. One unlucky water droplet found its way onto his glove, where it quickly sizzled away after coming into contact with the Dust-infused cloth. Rood inspected him, no doubt taking into account his smaller size. It was commonly where most of his conversations started, which got old very quickly. As if on cue, the half-naked giant commented on his size. Pipsqueak, half-pint, munchkin, and in this case, small fry. He had heard them all countless times before. A smile crept onto Rowan’s face. “You know, you don’t have to be so Rood, man.” His smile turned into spurts of giggles. In his mind, he was the funniest thing since Grimm puppet shows. Rowan mindlessly followed Rood, paying no attention to the direction they were going. He had to nearly jog in order to keep up with his much longer strides. Rowan looked over his newly acquired partner as they walked through the forest. His choice of attire was certainly unique, but beyond that, he knew nothing of the man that was going to be his partner for the next four years. “So, Rood, mind sharing what kind of figh-” A deep, vibrating growl emanating from behind him interrupted his question. Rowan turned around, only to be greeted by the face of an Ursa. The beast was nearly three times Rowan’s height. Its body was covered in patches of thick, white bone that served as armor. The creature’s red eyes struck fear into even Rowan’s eyes, no matter how many times he had encountered them. The Grimm were truly terrifying. But, Rowan was trained to overcome this fear. Rowan wasted no time with his opening strike. He quickly closed the distance between him and the beast. Rowan struck first, landing a blow that exploded on impact. The beast’s step never faltered. He swung with his massive paw, easily swiping Rowan to the side. Rowan’s Aura took the brunt of the hit, but he was still stunned from the impact with a rather large tree. The Grimm’s reach had often proved to be a problem with his aggressive and up close fighting style. He struggled to get in close enough to effectively neutralize his targets. Nevertheless, Rowan rose back to his feet, dusting off his coat. This time, it was the Ursa’s turn to close the gap. The beast rushed head first at him. Rowan cocked his arm back, ready to break the creature’s skull open.	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,785	1,434	31	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka ...he'd expected a more angry response from the Faunus who was now his partner. Apparently, she wasn't that upset about the whole situation, so long as he could fight. And oh, could Vlad fight. He grinned to himself at the thought, then nodded and began to walk in roughly the same direction as he had been before, trusting that whats-her-name would follow on. Speaking of which... "I don't believe I ever got your name," he mentioned to Bonny as he began to move off. "Those tend to be important for the sake of reference, so I figure we should at least learn them from each other if we're stuck together for the next several years. If you want mine, it's Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka; Vlad for short."	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,786	1,434	32	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako "Pffft," Bonny snerked. "You mean like the bloke from the story-books who made a pact with the Grimm and turned into a monster? Who names their kid that?" Bonny hefted her cannon around to point it at Vlad. "Me name be Bonny Mako, bosun Vlad. Pirate queen of the seven seas, and owner of this lil' beaut right here. Name's the Revenge. She be a 4.62'' caliber revolver jetpack cannon firin' smoothbore Dust twelve-pounders and grape shot. I be thinkin' about trying out some chainshot, but getting the Dust ta cooperate with that is provin'... difficult." Bonny coughed, embarrassed. "I may have uh... blown meself up a few times tryin' it."	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,787	1,434	33	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka "I'll have you know, my name has nothing to do with that character," Vlad tried to say, only to cut himself off halfway through as Bonny's weapon turned to face him. He promptly remained silent as she gave her name and explained her weapon's functionality, frowning when referred to as "bosun", then smirking at her chainshot-based mishaps. "Sounds like a lot of work to maintain," he offered, moving around her to get out of her line of fire should her weapon go off accidentally. "But, first of all, I'll have you know that I'm at least captain material, if not greater than that. Admiral material, maybe, whatever naval rank is highest. And secondly, trigger discipline. You don't point your weapons at anything you don't want dead. I mean, I didn't expect much from your sort, but a brain regarding this sort of thing would at least be appreciated!" The annoyance in his voice was evident, and he almost seemed to have not noticed the subtly offensive use of "your sort" in his language, like it was an afterthought to the greater issue in his mind. "Still, a weapon like Revenge has a lot of bulk to it," he continued irregardless. "It's heavy, so it's probably rather difficult to aim effectively, given momentum and all, and the only obvious melee option is to swing it at whatever gets near you; same problem, shorter range. Personally, I much prefer Maw and Breath." At this, he drew his weapons, making sure to keep his finger off of the pistol's trigger and facing away from himself and Bonny as if to make a point. "One's a claymore, one's a pistol. They're both big enough to pack a punch, but neither's so large that it obstructs movement the way that thing you wield does. And, they do this," he stated bluntly, demonstrating their shared capacity to fold out simultaneously, revealing the multi-dimensional beartrap present on each, then closing both after a second or two of display and returning them to their sheaths. "To trap foes and keep them close. Breath's can also be fired like a grapple to pull opponents in; I'm sure you saw that in action, though. "So, any questions?" At some point, he realised with a blink, his tone had lapsed into smug superiority, as though his weapons were his pride and joy. To be fair, they held some value to him, but if worst came to worst, he could always buy new ones to similar or better specifications. Even so, he was curious to see how his new partner would react to his multi-topic spiel.	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,788	1,434	34	1,949	2,861	Rowan and Rood “So, Rood, mind sharing what kind of figh-” Though he wasn't paying attention, Rood did faintly hear the sound of his new teammate going on about something in the background. He was so in his head, in fact, that he didn't notice when the smaller man had stopped and looked around. The blonde kept marching forward, scratching his chin at his previous thoughts. Ah... How did that jingle for that Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes commercial go again? Really did so much money need to be going into something so... cheap? Hell he'd seen that cereal go on sale for a lien a box. That's unheard of. When he was younger he remembered seeing that box go for 6 liens easily. Then again he was always dragged to those high class grocery stores. Oh, wait, Rowan had said something. "Did you say something . . . ?" As he turned around to face where he last saw Rowan, his eyes widened. As he had been in his own head thinking about cereal, Rowan had been actively trying to fight off an Ursa that had essentially ignored Rood as he went about his way. His eyes landed on Rowan who had just been tossed into a tree and gotten himself back up as an Ursa went to attack him. Rood's eyes flashed and he thrust an open palm out toward his new teammate. "Rowan!" Using his semblance, Rood's aura extended itself invisibly to cover Rowans clenched fist. A thick, crackling layer of friction over it to improve the velocity of Rowan's punch ten fold. Rowan's fist came into contact with the hardened bone protecting one of the Grimm's only vulnerable spots. Not that it mattered, when combined with Rood's Semblance. The Ursa, now unrecognizable, collapsed to the ground. Rowan flinched as his face was splattered with the unidentified liquids from inside the Ursa. Rowan turned to face his partner, who was standing at a distance far enough to be unaffected by the Ursa's brain juices. "Eugh, disgusting," Rowan paused to clean his face. "Normally my attacks aren't that powerful, even when combined with stronger dust. Did you do something?" He asked, completely unaware of the aura that had surrounded his fist. Rood was about to respond when another Ursa, no doubt the partner to the first, barreled at Rood from the side. Rood turned his head just in time to see it before getting a face full of claws. Thankfully, his aura protected him well enough and he took the blow in stride, backflipping onto his feet and crouching defensively as the Ursa swung again. This time Rood was ready, He spun into the attack, his hand removing his weapon from his side and in his turn, completely unfolded the lance into it's complete size. By the time his little pirouette had finished, he'd stabbed the Ursa through the head with a large golden lance hard enough to lift himself off the ground. The noise, however, caught the attention of some Beowolves, who howled in response to the cries of the Ursa the two men had taken on. The sound of their paws hoofing through the dirt to get to them through the trees was nigh deafening. Letting out a heavy breath through his nostrils, Rood righted himself on the Ursa, looked around and knelt down. Holding the handle of the lance in both hands, the air that had surrounded Rowans fist was now reflected above his hair. As he jumped off the Ursa's fading body, he sky rocketed into the air, skyscrapers above the chaos below, seeming to have left Rowan behind. "Hmmph. Coward," he said as he watched Rood fly up into the sky. Rowan was quickly surrounded by several Beowolves. He didn't bother to count, instead he closed the gap between him and the first one, where he struck it with an explosive blow to the chin, sending it onto its back. While the Ursa may have proved difficult due to its long reach, the Beowolves fought in a similar fashion to his own. Rowan turned just in time to parry a slash from a younger wolf. He managed to land several hits uninterrupted. Not even he could handle the sheer numbers, though. The Beowolves advanced as one, overwhelming the brawler. In the moment, he so desperately wished for a Semblance that was actually useful against the Grimm. Acting defensively, he blocked one of the wolves' attacks, but was struck in the back by another. His Aura held strong. Fortunately, the blows drained a minimal portion of his Aura. Being a melee fighter, his Aura pool was much higher than someone who might prefer to stay at range. At that moment, overhead of the fighting Rowan and the beowolves, a meteor looked to be coming down. It was bright, blinding, and distracted some of the wolves to look away from the red-trenchcoat clad student. In that 'meteor,' was Rood. His feet firmly planted on the hilt of his lance and holding the hilt in both hands almost like a pogo stick but cooler. The Beowolves appeared to be distracted, which Rowan used to his advantage. He grabbed the closest one, and threw it into another. They had completely stopped fighting back. He turned to the sky, trying to follow the wolves' curiosity. He had to shield his eyes from the blinding light that was speeding towards his position. Having nearly no time to react, Rowan broke into a sprint to get away from the speeding object. His feet failed to gain traction, and he ended up face-down in the dirt, nearly ten feet away from his original position. Rood, at the time where his golden lance had developed a barrier around it, leapt off of his weapon and leaving his focused semblance to do the rest of the work. On his way down, he spotted Rowan as he ran and tripped when trying to get away from the meteor-esque blade coming down. Seeing that the smaller student would be hit by the blast of the meteor, Rood threw his chain-clad arm outward toward the trees, the chain extending and wrapping around a thick branch as he swung down, scooped up the fallen Rowan, and flung himself into the trees. The two of them swang through the trees unobstructed until they came out the other end, the chain disconnecting itself from the branch. The two of them soared through the air, Rood carrying Rowan wrapped up in one arm, giving them both an excellent view of the landing lance. The emitting shockwave as it hit the ground knocked back all the beowolves present, and was heard throughout all of the Emerald Forest. Rood's blonde hair was blown back as they remained airbourne by the intense wind. Rowan thought he had seen a twinkle in the eyes of his savior, but surely it had just been a reflection from the sun. It had killed several of the beowolves, but a few had only been injured and angered by being tossed. Just as the two of them began to fall, Rood grunted loudly and planted his feet firmly on... nothing. He panted softly as the soles of his feet his armor clad feet burned in a crackling ember light. He stayed there, levitating as his chain swung back around his arm again. He looked down at Rowan, speaking in between breaths as the man in his arms' legs dangled freely. "Haah.... Are... you okay?" Rowan stared upwards, looking into the red eyes staring back at him. He wasn't sure if Rood's style involved constantly putting his partner in danger, but if it did, Rowan would never be able to get used to it. "I'm better than I would be if you didn't swoop in like some crazed jungle man. Then again, you are the one that nearly impaled me with your firey lance contraption. I'm pretty sure I had it under control," he said, but in reality, he hadn't. The Grimm would have had him for dinner if Rood didn't intervene.	Rood von Rah Age 17 Gender Male Species Human APPEARANCE Height 6'2" Weight 211 lbs Clothing Style When not having to be in Beacon's uniform, Rood ordinarily adorns himself in ornate gold armor up to the waist with a royally bold red cape sashed at his waist which billows when he walks. He wears expensive heavy golden earrings and a red stone necklace at all times regardless if he is in uniform or not. His body is decorated with intricate red paint as a symbol of his status. Hair Color Blonde Eye Color Red COMBAT Weapons Eye of Ma'at His arm is covered in chains with a speared tip at the end, making lashing out with this long range weapon a very deadly experience. The speared tip can 'flower' out into a mini revolving end which Rood can fire off AS he whips this weapon around with the help of his semblance Mehet-Weret A classic lance with decorative and intricate craftsmanship. Best when paired with Rood's semblance. Though it has the option to use Dust, a situation where that would be necessary hasn't been crossed. Or has it? Semblance Friction Manipulation Rood is able to run on air (but NOT fly), walk on water, deflect oncoming attacks, increase or decrease and object's velocity, and change his own inertia. He is also able to generate heat, but not flames by concentrating all on the friction in regards to his body's/an object's placement. Without a gun, he is able to fire off bullets at will by concentrating his friction, hence the placement of the 'gun' at the end of his whip. See 'Other' for limitations. Dust Rood is extensively knowledgeable about Dust but for some reason doesn't carry any on him. Skills Taunting Evasion Surprise PERSONALIZED Personality Brash Dominant Sensitive Regal Passionate Skills -Has taken to playing a lute -Surprisingly, enjoys working with scrapped textiles to make fashionable outfits -Sewing Background For now, Rood's personal history will be shrouded in mystery. What can be shared is common knowledge to all students attending Beacon Academy. The Rah name belonged to a very prestigious family who once ruled the Kingdom of Mistral. The family line, however, fell due to unforeseen circumstances; enemies of past generations ambushed members of the family and cut them down. Desperate to hold the prestige of the family line, the few Rah's remaining married into Atlas' own royals the Schnee's. The two familie's connected only by forced marriages ruled in their separate kingdoms once order was restored, and the purity of the Rah line was forever broken. From there, two generations down, Rood was born a von Rah. This will be the first time in his life he has ever been exposed to working with others his own age. Character Theme Though he encompasses the summation of egyptian culture and religion as a whole, Rood is best described as a genderbent Neith, the Egyptian Goddess of War who wields a masculine bow and arrow. Traded instead for his main weapon is the feminine whip and his red necklace in place of her red crown. Neith is known for her love of weaving, which I wanted to really translate to Rood; which I did in the form of him enjoying sewing and making things out of it for others. 'Rood' is Dutch for red, and 'von' is a common German name add-on, which is frequent pattern seen in the Schnee name. Rah, of course is in reference to Ra, the egyptian God of the sun. Other: Jaune is the best About Friction - Rood's Semblance is vast in its potential, this is true. Or it would be if he could do more than one of any of those things at one time. Every use of his semblance takes all of his concentration, and it doesn't take long until all that usage takes a toll. Thanks to the nature of the semblance, Rood is at constant risk for overheating or in the worst case scenario spontaneously combusting, making his ability a dangerous one to wield for not only other, but for himself.
52,789	1,434	35	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako "Aye. T'was quite the display you put on. Doesn't all the Grimm gunk and stuff make 'em a bitch to swab clean though?" While they talked, two red eyes watched them from the shadows, waiting. Bonny continued. "And ye needn't worry about me, bosun Vlad. This cannon here might seem a bit clunky to you, but we Faunus be a lot stronger than you think. Besides-" Bonny spun the cannon around her arm so the mouth of the barrel faced behind her. Without any warning, a King Taijitu erupted from the undergrowth, lunging at Bonny, then at Vlad. Firing blindly, Bonny landed two direct hits on the Grimm's heads, blasting them into bloody stumps. Then she took a step to the side as one fell where she had just been standing, a bloody rope missing its head. "I be havin' eyes in the back of me head. If I can't shoot them or fly away by the time they get close enough to hit me with something, I be havin' a bad day." Bonny stepped over the corpses as they started to disintegrate, whistling to herself. "By the way," she yelled back. "I called ye 'bosun Vlad' so you'd have enough room to earn some promotions. Impress me enough and one day I might be callin' ye 'first mate' Vlad."	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,790	1,434	36	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Well. That happened. Vlad was having trouble believing that the clunky thing Bonny called a weapon was powerful enough to outright murder a King Taijitu in two shots. Furthermore, he'd barely noticed the thing's eyes glowing in the darkness behind her before it had lunged, and yet if she was to be believed, she'd known it was there the whole time! Though admittedly, this was the far more believable of the two facts, under the assumption that that was her Semblance, which made sense given her shark-like nature. Sharks could detect things like that, couldn't they? He needed to look that up at some point. And, if he thought about it, his pistol was more than strong enough to kill Beowolves with a single regular bullet; it only made sense that scaling that up would result in progressively stronger projectiles. But he was digressing. He'd been standing there, slightly shocked at the turn of events, right up until the moment Bonny mentioned the phrase "'first mate' Vlad"; at this, he realised the assumptions that had been made and how stupid he probably looked, and began running after the Faunus, leaping over the disintegrating body of the Taijitu as he called after her: "Who told you you were my superior?! Also, in case you didn't notice, the gunk is self-cleaning!" A deliberate gesture was made back at the nearly-vanished snake-like Grimm, though if she was arrogant enough to consider herself his superior, he somehow doubted she would deign to answer back to either of his statements. It didn't matter, of course, since his goal was to be the best student Beacon had ever seen anyway; he'd just have to prove without a shadow of a doubt that he was the head of that particular relationship, such that the Faunus never questioned his superiority again. Perhaps less violently than he had with Jonathan, but if needs must...	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,791	1,434	37	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn “Anyways, that doesn’t matter. Hopefully I didn’t cause too much of a drain on your Aura. Better be more careful of that in the future.” Rowan didn’t give the blonde any time to respond before dropping down to the ground, collapsing onto one of the Beowolves, instantly rendering it useless. Inside of the crater, the odds were now much more even. With his Dust supplies nearly depleted, Rowan opted to use his Aura to strengthen his attacks. Under normal circumstances, he saved his Aura for the sole purpose of defense, however, he would occasionally make exceptions. Rowan turned to the nearest Beowolf, where his fist met the patchy exoskeleton surrounding the wolf’s head. He turned just in time to catch the claws of another wolf, which he parried, sending the wolf flying into a nearby bush. The corpse soared over its friend, who had rushed in to take his place. The wolf lunged with its razor-sharp claws. Rowan grabbed its forearm, and swung him overhead. The beowolf landed with a loud thud. Rowan infused another hit with his Aura, quickly ending the wolf, as well as the encounter. The fight was over in a matter of seconds. Rowan looked for his next target, only to find that the last one had run off into the forest. “That’ll show you! Be sure to spread the tale of Rowan, Grimm Destroyer!” He shouted towards the Beowolf. Of course, it served no purpose, other than for Rowan to have a bit of fun.	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,792	1,434	38	1,949	2,861	Rood von Rah Watching Rowan drop down, the blonde egyptian got into a crouch. In truth, it really didn't take up a lot of Aura to use his semblance. It was more like having to put a certain amount of effort, like pushing yourself up, and from then on it was a matter of how long you held it. Using his semblance like that had made it necessary to leap so high in the first place so he could build it for as long as he had. Rood watched as Rowan went to town, smiling and resting a cheek on a golden gauntlet as he stayed in the air, the crackling energy on the bottom of his feet holding him up in midair. He noticed that Rowan had started taking off after the last beowolf. Well, that wouldn't do. Standing up and brushing his thighs off, he resigned himself to catching the twerp. Chapter 2 Primary Ozpin From up on the cliff, Ozpin watched the video monitors through a scroll-pad beside Glynda as she sat on the cliffs edge. The breeze blew through both their very different shades of pale hair as they watched. Glynda gave a sidelong glance at her professor, blushed, and decided to keep her head back where it were. No one really knew how old Ozpin was, but honestly she always did care for the man she served so diligently. "Glynda," The sound of Ozpin's voice made the blonde witch jump and look at him, waiting for him to continue. When she looked at him, he had put the large scroll down to look over the trees. "You ... had remembered to call Ironwood and take care of the issue this time around, yes?" --- Rood von Rah Rood ran through the air above Rowan as he chased after the beowolf, scowling a little. He looked down at Rowan, getting rather tired of this chase. "Hey, Shrimp, stop wasting time. We're here to get those relic or whatever he called them. Let's go!" At that moment, he looked to the east. There, he could see a clearing with a meadow containing miscellaneous objects on pedastels. What they were though, he couldn't say. He stopped, hovering in the air as he looked over. "Small Fry, I think I see the relics! ... HEY!" Rood's eyebrows furrowed as he barked after the running Rowan and sighed, folding his arms as he went to look back at the relic station. However, as he turned his head, a dark figure caught his eye, causing him to stop and stare at it. There, in the distance, a small, humanoid dark figure with red flecks like embers coming off of it. It was far away though, making its appearance shaky and almost shadowy. Rood paused to rub his eyes and look back at where he saw the figure, but it was gone. ... The hairs on the back of Rood's neck raised and he dropped down to the ground. "Uh... Rowan! Come on... Let's... go this way." The uneasy tone in Rood's voice was painfully obvious as he strode toward the direction of where he'd seen the relics through the trees. What had that thing he'd seen been? Just remembering it made the hairs on his arm stand on end.	Rood von Rah Age 17 Gender Male Species Human APPEARANCE Height 6'2" Weight 211 lbs Clothing Style When not having to be in Beacon's uniform, Rood ordinarily adorns himself in ornate gold armor up to the waist with a royally bold red cape sashed at his waist which billows when he walks. He wears expensive heavy golden earrings and a red stone necklace at all times regardless if he is in uniform or not. His body is decorated with intricate red paint as a symbol of his status. Hair Color Blonde Eye Color Red COMBAT Weapons Eye of Ma'at His arm is covered in chains with a speared tip at the end, making lashing out with this long range weapon a very deadly experience. The speared tip can 'flower' out into a mini revolving end which Rood can fire off AS he whips this weapon around with the help of his semblance Mehet-Weret A classic lance with decorative and intricate craftsmanship. Best when paired with Rood's semblance. Though it has the option to use Dust, a situation where that would be necessary hasn't been crossed. Or has it? Semblance Friction Manipulation Rood is able to run on air (but NOT fly), walk on water, deflect oncoming attacks, increase or decrease and object's velocity, and change his own inertia. He is also able to generate heat, but not flames by concentrating all on the friction in regards to his body's/an object's placement. Without a gun, he is able to fire off bullets at will by concentrating his friction, hence the placement of the 'gun' at the end of his whip. See 'Other' for limitations. Dust Rood is extensively knowledgeable about Dust but for some reason doesn't carry any on him. Skills Taunting Evasion Surprise PERSONALIZED Personality Brash Dominant Sensitive Regal Passionate Skills -Has taken to playing a lute -Surprisingly, enjoys working with scrapped textiles to make fashionable outfits -Sewing Background For now, Rood's personal history will be shrouded in mystery. What can be shared is common knowledge to all students attending Beacon Academy. The Rah name belonged to a very prestigious family who once ruled the Kingdom of Mistral. The family line, however, fell due to unforeseen circumstances; enemies of past generations ambushed members of the family and cut them down. Desperate to hold the prestige of the family line, the few Rah's remaining married into Atlas' own royals the Schnee's. The two familie's connected only by forced marriages ruled in their separate kingdoms once order was restored, and the purity of the Rah line was forever broken. From there, two generations down, Rood was born a von Rah. This will be the first time in his life he has ever been exposed to working with others his own age. Character Theme Though he encompasses the summation of egyptian culture and religion as a whole, Rood is best described as a genderbent Neith, the Egyptian Goddess of War who wields a masculine bow and arrow. Traded instead for his main weapon is the feminine whip and his red necklace in place of her red crown. Neith is known for her love of weaving, which I wanted to really translate to Rood; which I did in the form of him enjoying sewing and making things out of it for others. 'Rood' is Dutch for red, and 'von' is a common German name add-on, which is frequent pattern seen in the Schnee name. Rah, of course is in reference to Ra, the egyptian God of the sun. Other: Jaune is the best About Friction - Rood's Semblance is vast in its potential, this is true. Or it would be if he could do more than one of any of those things at one time. Every use of his semblance takes all of his concentration, and it doesn't take long until all that usage takes a toll. Thanks to the nature of the semblance, Rood is at constant risk for overheating or in the worst case scenario spontaneously combusting, making his ability a dangerous one to wield for not only other, but for himself.
52,793	1,434	39	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako The ground trembled as Bonny launched herself up through the forest canopy again, surveying the landscape for anything that looked key-ish. It was almost like playing with a pogo-stick, except everything beneath the pogo-stick tended to die. Something brushed over her head as she neared the apex of her arc, and she lunged like a breach, catching a small black bird in her teeth. She spat it out. "Bleh. Birdie," she said in disgust. "Could be good fer cookin' tho." So she threw the chewed-on bird carcass in her pack with the cannonballs. That's when she spotted something off in the distance. A clearing, full of strange, vaguely key-related-in-a-metaphorical-sense objects (or so she hoped). "Oi, Bosun Vlad!" she yelled as she slowly began to fall. "Methinks I found our-" An oppressive sense of fear shot through her veins, freezing her blood solid like ice. She immediately knew why. It was down there. Watching her. This humanoid shadow that burned like a person-shaped lump of charcoal. That was the best description she had for it. It was ridiculous but she felt sure of it. It knew they were there. It was watching them. She squinted, trying to get a better look at it. It turned its head. She stopped breathing entirely as she felt that ice in her blood as cold as the figure was hot clench its frozen tendrils around her heart. Panic rose in her throat and she started to sweat, her lip trembling as the figure slowly became taller as the ground drew closer. Finally she couldn't take it anymore. She closed her eyes. And then it was gone. Vanished into thin air, like ashes blowing away in the wind. "Wha..." A little too late, Bonny realized she was still approaching her LZ far too fast, and quickly clicked the trigger on the Revenge, blasting dirt and grass directly up into her face and mouth. She coughed, sitting in a crater as wide as she was tall. She got up and dusted herself off, looking into the distance with this vague sense of dread. What... was that? She shook her head. Stop thinking about it. You'll be fine. You can just tell someone about it later, okay? "Ye be alright there, Vlad?" she asked the tall boy trailing behind her. "I came in a little hot." She hesitated for a moment. "... I think I found our keys."	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,794	1,434	40	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Vlad hadn't bothered too hard in trying to keep up once Bonny had started using her cannon to fly- well, practically leap around like a deranged Nevermore. He basically strolled along, following the trail of craters, and killing any Grimm that happened to be lingering around the area. Not as many as he expected, and almost entirely Beowolves, but enough to provide a decent challenge over time. It was somewhat surprising, then, when he caught up to one particularly large crater and found his new partner dusting herself off and spitting up clods of dirt. "Ye be alright there, Vlad? I came in a little hot." "Me?" he asked, somewhat surprised by the question, though he continued walking regardless. "Unless you've made a habit of eating large amounts of earth, I'd suspect you've just blown yourself up. Certainly looks like it." He didn't say this in a manner that suggested he cared too much; more that he was confused as to how it happened at all. "... I think I found our keys." "Oh, good. Come along, then." With no more words than that, Vlad strolled past Bonny and her crater, heading toward where he presumed the keys were. That was the last direction she had been moving, after all.	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,795	1,434	41	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn Rowan ignored the calls of his partner, and instead chased after the Beowolf. It was by no means necessary for him to kill every last Grimm during an encounter, but there was just a sense of satisfaction that came with completely wiping out the creatures. Of course, the Beowolf was way too quick for Rowan. His lack of ranged attacks yet again proved to be detrimental to his mission. ”Small Fry, I think I see the relics! … HEY!” Rowan skidded to a halt, turning around to see his partner who was still hovering in the air. Rowan followed his gaze, but his view was blocked by the densely packed trees. ”Uh… Rowan! Come on… Let’s… go this way.” Rowan was completely oblivious to the uneasiness in the blonde’s voice. He trusted Rood enough to follow him through the trees. A loud boom echoed through the forest, but Rowan chose to ignore it. Knowing the kind of people currently storming through the forest, it was probably simply an over-eager student wanting to explode an Ursa to pieces. “Looks like you’re not the only one trying to destroy the forest with explosions.” Rowan looked for any response from his partner, who was currently taking the lead.	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,796	1,434	42	1,949	2,861	Rood von Rah Rood turned his head and walked slower so the smaller man could keep in stride with the tall Egyptian. He still attempted to shiver off the last of the chills that specter had given him as they walked into the open clearing where the relics were held. Now that he was paying attention, he did recall booming noises coming from the forest behind them, ushering Rood to take a glance back. "Explosions? My display was hardly an explosion," Rood scoffed, folding his tan arms over his chest as a haughty tone emerged from his voice. "What you witnessed was a specialty not many can see anymore; a von Rah semblance. Calling it an 'explosion,'" He paused to make air quotations with his fingers, "Is nearly insulting. Furthermore, at least I did something to attempt wiping out a large scale of those things." Just as they arrived in the center of the clearing of relics, Rood turned a finger and pointed at Rowan with an...objectionable aesthetic. "And just what are those tiny fists good for, ey?! Explosions! Tiny, unreliable explosions! What even is your weapon? Fist bandages?!" It would seem Rowan had struck a nerve. Around them, the relics glittered in the light, catching Rood's eye and causing him to look at them dead on... A myriad of large, monochromatic tarot cards laid before them set into shimmering stone tablets of all the same size, but in an array of colors that only peacocks and macaws could be jealous of. Each stone tablet contained two cards apiece.	Rood von Rah Age 17 Gender Male Species Human APPEARANCE Height 6'2" Weight 211 lbs Clothing Style When not having to be in Beacon's uniform, Rood ordinarily adorns himself in ornate gold armor up to the waist with a royally bold red cape sashed at his waist which billows when he walks. He wears expensive heavy golden earrings and a red stone necklace at all times regardless if he is in uniform or not. His body is decorated with intricate red paint as a symbol of his status. Hair Color Blonde Eye Color Red COMBAT Weapons Eye of Ma'at His arm is covered in chains with a speared tip at the end, making lashing out with this long range weapon a very deadly experience. The speared tip can 'flower' out into a mini revolving end which Rood can fire off AS he whips this weapon around with the help of his semblance Mehet-Weret A classic lance with decorative and intricate craftsmanship. Best when paired with Rood's semblance. Though it has the option to use Dust, a situation where that would be necessary hasn't been crossed. Or has it? Semblance Friction Manipulation Rood is able to run on air (but NOT fly), walk on water, deflect oncoming attacks, increase or decrease and object's velocity, and change his own inertia. He is also able to generate heat, but not flames by concentrating all on the friction in regards to his body's/an object's placement. Without a gun, he is able to fire off bullets at will by concentrating his friction, hence the placement of the 'gun' at the end of his whip. See 'Other' for limitations. Dust Rood is extensively knowledgeable about Dust but for some reason doesn't carry any on him. Skills Taunting Evasion Surprise PERSONALIZED Personality Brash Dominant Sensitive Regal Passionate Skills -Has taken to playing a lute -Surprisingly, enjoys working with scrapped textiles to make fashionable outfits -Sewing Background For now, Rood's personal history will be shrouded in mystery. What can be shared is common knowledge to all students attending Beacon Academy. The Rah name belonged to a very prestigious family who once ruled the Kingdom of Mistral. The family line, however, fell due to unforeseen circumstances; enemies of past generations ambushed members of the family and cut them down. Desperate to hold the prestige of the family line, the few Rah's remaining married into Atlas' own royals the Schnee's. The two familie's connected only by forced marriages ruled in their separate kingdoms once order was restored, and the purity of the Rah line was forever broken. From there, two generations down, Rood was born a von Rah. This will be the first time in his life he has ever been exposed to working with others his own age. Character Theme Though he encompasses the summation of egyptian culture and religion as a whole, Rood is best described as a genderbent Neith, the Egyptian Goddess of War who wields a masculine bow and arrow. Traded instead for his main weapon is the feminine whip and his red necklace in place of her red crown. Neith is known for her love of weaving, which I wanted to really translate to Rood; which I did in the form of him enjoying sewing and making things out of it for others. 'Rood' is Dutch for red, and 'von' is a common German name add-on, which is frequent pattern seen in the Schnee name. Rah, of course is in reference to Ra, the egyptian God of the sun. Other: Jaune is the best About Friction - Rood's Semblance is vast in its potential, this is true. Or it would be if he could do more than one of any of those things at one time. Every use of his semblance takes all of his concentration, and it doesn't take long until all that usage takes a toll. Thanks to the nature of the semblance, Rood is at constant risk for overheating or in the worst case scenario spontaneously combusting, making his ability a dangerous one to wield for not only other, but for himself.
52,797	1,434	43	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako Bonny crawled out of the crater and started catching up with Vlad. She looked around the forest a little bit nervously. Was it still here? She hadn't seen it on the hill after she'd closed her eyes, so the only place for it to go was down into the foilage. Not too far from where they were. If that thing caught them, they were dead. She didn't know how she knew despite this being the first time she'd ever seen it, but she knew. She slapped her cheeks. Get it together, Bonny! You don't know what you saw! Could've just been a Grimm. Now stop freaking out and help Vlad- Without looking where she was walking, Bonny bumped headfirst into Rood, their noggins clonging together like drums. "Owwwww..." she hissed quietly.	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.
52,798	1,434	44	269	2,330	Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka It didn't take too long for Vlad to enter the clearing containing the relics. Aside from himself and Bonny, he noted the presence of two others in the clearing at that moment- looked like it was prettyboy and Rowan- but since they were somewhat embroiled in an argument at that moment, he chose to ignore them for the time being. Instead, he headed over to the tablets, circling round them like a bird of prey to see what was on each one. Two cards from the Major Arcana each, seemingly sunken into the tablets in a way that necessitated breaking the things open to get at the paper inside... and wouldn't you know it, he had no idea what their meanings actually were. To be fair, he didn't care that much. Under normal circumstances, he'd probably have picked up one of the tablets with a card that he assumed had some association with rulership, maybe The Devil or The World... however, he had a partner to consider. More importantly, it seemed likely that, in some arcane and mysterious fashion, the tablets chosen would decide what teams ended up forming as a result. He wasn't dense; he'd seen that groups of four were prevalent in the academy, taken it for granted that they were teams of hunters, and extrapolated from there with his current information. So, it occurred to him, maybe I could choose a tablet to act in spite of Bonny? He backpedaled from this thought immediately; for all he knew, pairs of partners were randomly associated with one another based on teacher whim, and he was stuck with Sharky regardless. It didn't matter what tablet he picked. Thus, to make his decision, he closed his eyes, spun round a few times, then steadily walked forward until his hand touched one of the tablets, gripping it and lifting it up. He opened his eyes to see... The Hanged Man and Wheel of Fortune. "Well, alright..." he mused to himself, distracted shortly after by the sound of two heads cracking together and various noises of pain. Bonny, of course, and prettyboy too. Rolling his eyes, Vlad strutted over to his partner, brandishing the tablet like some valuable tome, though it was probably cheaper than brick (albeit much prettier). "If you're done killing yourself and blondie there, Bonny, I have our tablet," he said bluntly. "I suggest we leave before something sneaks up on us. Or before you break something, whichever comes first."	Name: Vladimir Plasimov-Drakka Age: 17 Gender: Male Species: Human APPEARANCE Additional oversized image displaying his weapons and contrasting his clothing choices with one another; please ignore anything that isn't the man in the middle of the image. Height: 195cm/6.4" Weight: 110kg/242.5lbs, much of which is muscle Clothing Style: Vladimir generally wears a tight black bodysuit to show off his musculature to others, over which he wears clothing based on whether he knows he is to fight that day: an incomplete suit of plate armour if he is, a red leather longcoat if he isn't, or both if he wants to appear stylish. He's also inexplicably fond of white gloves. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red COMBAT Weapon: Maw and Breath - Vladimir's weapons of choice consist of a large cruciform longsword and an oversized, almost handcannon-esque pistol, as pictured above. Whilst not necessarily fancy-looking by most weapon standards at first, both possess the capacity to open up into wicked multi-toothed constructs that are quite capable of restraining even a trained Hunter or Huntress in the manner of a multi-dimensional beartrap, and are barbed such that anyone who attempts to struggle free will likely suffer a lot of injury for their efforts. Furthermore, Breath's construct has the (optional) capacity to be launched with some force by firing the weapon whilst it is deployed, letting it restrain a foe from a great distance, and even remains connected to the handle of the gun by a thick metal wire to drag the victim back toward Vladimir for a closer-ranged pummelling. Semblance: Blood of the Dragon - This is a secret, for now. Dust: Dust is utilised by Vladimir, generally as part of his weapon's ammunition; his preference is shells loaded with Fire or Lava Dust, but if he knows he'll be facing an opponent with a particular association, he'll likely pick out ammo elements to counter the opponent's preferences, e.g. Water and/or Ice to negate Fire. Skills: Physically powerful Well-rounded Brutal combat style Savvy Calculating PERSONALIZED Personality: Manipulative Domineering Arrogant Intellectual Pragmatic Skills: Intelligent Athletic Able street fighter Charismatic Knowledgable Background: Vladimir was born into a moderately aristocratic Atlesean family which had recently fallen on hard times. His father, also called Vladimir, was a member of a group called the Knights of the Dragon - giving him his honorary surname "Drakk" or Dragon, and his son the surname of "Drakka" or Dragonson, in addition to the family surname of Plasimov - that had been quite famous in the nation of Mantle before it ceased to exist, but which had since declined to the point of near-dissolution. This state of affairs had not sat well with Drakk, or his high lifestyle and funds, and he thus began abusing his wife both physically and mentally, until finally overdoing it and accidentally putting her in hospital for long enough that questions were asked about him. This ultimately triggered Drakka's removal from Drakk's overbearing mannerisms, though these had already left in the twelve-year-old the beginnings of his own rather cruel, if highly intellectual personality; as a final request, Vladimir's father asked the authorities that, rather than being put into foster care, he be sent to live with some close family friends, the Morgensterns. Unlike the Plasimov family, the Morgenstern family had done very well for themselves in spite of their own allegiance with the Knights of the Dragon. Seeing what his father had declined to, and comparing his own possible future to that if he didn't make his moves quickly, Vladimir made it a personal goal of his to usurp the biological heir to the Morgenstern's fortune, and thus to surpass his own father in every way he could. He started to sidle himself into the family patriarch Valentine's good graces as quickly as possible, whilst simultaneously engaging in psychological warfare against his step-brother Jonathan to throw him off and have him lose face at times when it would matter. He might have succeeded, too, if not for two significant factors: Valentine was a lot more perceptive than Vladimir gave him credit for, often figuring out the truth of Vlad's manipulations with little obvious effort; and, more importantly, Jonathan was not as much of a doormat as he first appeared. Despite Vladimir's best efforts to avoid direct conflict, the two teens came to blows far more often than he'd like, and these fights quickly drew out both of their innate potentials. Deciding that he would rather they make use of their developing Auras against the Grimm than against each other, Valentine enrolled both children at one of Atlas' private combat schools, in preparation for them to eventually enroll in the famed Atlas Academy itself. This to some extent quelled their battles for the time being, since illegal combat was far more harshly punished by the school than by their father, but Vladimir nevertheless continued to bully Jonathan at any opportunity he got, leading to little good blood between them. This unstable peace ended after Vlad finally unlocked his Semblance - something which he suspected might be inherited, but which he decided to grant an appropriate name anyway: Blood of the Dragon. He spent the final year or so of his education at the school training his Semblance and figuring out what it could do with little intimidation toward Jonathan; then, on the very last day of school, he made a point of beating his stepbrother to a pulp with his bare hands in public, getting himself arrested and his brother hospitalised and in a coma. Shortly afterward, he was put before his stepfather, who had already decided that Vlad had gone too far this time. In no uncertain terms, Valentine told the astounded boy that he had arranged to send him to Beacon Academy in Vale as a transfer student, stating his belief that the education there was less thorough than in Atlas, but that that was exactly what Vlad deserved for what he'd done, and that maybe the more liberal setting would teach him some damn humility. Not long after, Vladimir was sent off to Beacon, having already vowed to become the academy's top student and show both Valentine and Jonathan what he was truly capable of, or else die trying, for nothing less than this would satisfy his ego. tl;dr Background: Vlad was born into a previously-rich family that had fallen on hard times; His father became abusive and beat Vlad's mother unconscious, Vlad was taken away by authorities, but his father requested he be left with family friends; Vlad came into the family, which consisted of a father and son, and had done far better than Vlad's family, so he vowed to inherit that family's wealth even over his stepbrother via trickery and psychological warfare; It turns out the stepfather was smarter, and the son less wimpy, than credit had been given, and Vlad and his stepbrother fought often enough that it became a problem; The stepfather put them both into a private training school to make better use of their aura than it currently had, and their fighting was mostly quelled by stricter punishments; Vlad eventually unlocked his semblance, Blood of the Dragon, which he studied for a bit, then used to beat his stepbrother into a coma at the end of their time at the school; As punishment, his stepfather had him sent to Beacon Academy rather than Atlas Academy, with Vlad vowing to become Beacon's top student in response to this injustice. Character Theme: Evidently, this guy is based on Vlad II "Țepeș" Dracula, or rather the vampire count who spawned from his acts and inherits his name. However, a lot of inspiration for Vladimir's character, his backstory in particular, comes from Dio Brando of JJBA fame, which I feel isn't too unsuitable given that the real Dracula was called "The Impaler" for a very good reason. That said, his appearance is derived from that of Alucard of Hellsing fame, and there's also a reference to The Domination of Draka in there, to make the name less of a straight theft from real life, and which still fits given the heavy dragon theming in his character. Other: Jaune is my fukken bae, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
52,799	1,434	45	437	257	Rowan D. Valinn “For your information, my weapon is a pair of Dust-infused fist-wraps. The explosions may be small, but at least they don’t have the chance of completely obliterating my partner!” Rowan wandered ahead of his partner, who appeared to be quite defensive over his “special” Semblance. The kid apparently had some sort of a hereditary Semblance, which, while interesting, definitely didn’t automatically earn it the title of special. Rowan looked ahead, spotting the other two students who had been launched into the forest. The tall, dark-haired boy, Vlad, had taken to inspecting the relics in the center of the field. Rowan joined Vlad in inspecting the relics. “What on Remnant are these things? Playing cards?” He asked, gazing intently at the cards inside the stone tablets. Rowan picked up the nearest one, which had two cards labelled “The Sun,” and “Strength.” Rowan witnessed the Faunus girl crashing into Rood as he approached the other three students. He chose not to say anything about it, in case Rood was still fired up from their earlier conversation. “What if we took two tablets? Would we get extra credit?”	Name: Rowan Dmitri Valinn Age: 17 Gender: Female APPEARANCE Height: 5’ 5” Weight: 125 lbs Clothing Style: Rowan is not much of a jeans and t-shirt kind of person. She’ll usually base her attire around the color red. Almost every outfit consists of a red coat of some sort. She is a major advocate of the combat skirt movement. Rowan wears a black scarf given to her by her father. Hair Color: Silver Eye Color: Blue COMBAT Weapon: Rowan’s weapon’s name is Tyrfing. It is a pair of black fist-wraps. On the back is the symbol for red Dust. Semblance: Rowan’s Semblance is known as the Saboteur's Touch. When she comes into contact with someone, her Semblance activates and drains the Aura from the person. It only drains from the initial contact, and if she remains in contact, then her Semblance will not drain any more. Her Semblance is constantly active, and she has ability to stop it from activating. Dust: Tyrfing is infused with red Dust, allowing for slightly explosive punches. The Dust has to be re-applied after every fight, as it runs out rather quickly. Skills: Rowan was trained extensively in both Wado-Ryu, as well as Krav Maga. She combines the two to form her own unique fighting style. She is able to move with the flow of the battle, and strike hard when the opportunity presents itself. Rowan is a tank of sorts, and prefers to stay in the thick of the battle. Her sizeable Aura allows her to absorb hits with relative ease. PERSONALIZED Personality: Charismatic Light-hearted Sarcastic Erratic Sociable Skills: Juggling Acrobatics Origami Rowan was born into a family of wealth. Her grandfather was a renowned doctor who had made several advancements in the medicinal field. Rowan’s father, being an only child, naturally inherited most of the family wealth when his father died. Rowan grew up living a life of luxury. She was waited on constantly, and could have anything within a moment’s notice. She attending a prestigious private school, where her parents bribed all of her teachers to give her passing grades. Despite having anything she could ever want, Rowan was unhappy with her life. She barely knew her parents, and she had no one she could truly call a friend. She craved excitement, adventure. Friendship. She begged her parents to send her to combat school. Reluctantly, they let her attend Sanctum Academy in Mistral. Rowan was in for a brutal awakening. Her first year at Sanctum left her at the bottom of her class in nearly all aspects, including socially. No one at Sanctum cared about her. Rowan spent the summer in between school years fervently training. She desperately wanted to prove herself. When she returned, while she had drastically improved herself, she was nowhere near the top students. She sought tutoring from one of these top students, a kid named Onyx. He gladly took Rowan under his wing, teaching her various fighting methods, as well as Aura and Semblance training. By the end of her time at Sanctum, Rowan was among the top tier students. She still couldn’t emerge as the best, but she was an excellent fighter. After some discussion with her parents, they agreed to let her further her education as a Huntress. She applied to Beacon Academy, in hopes of getting into the prestigious academy. Much to her surprise, she was accepted. Off she went to Beacon, eager to become a fully-fledged Huntress and help maintain the world’s peace. Rowan was inspired by the Norse mythological figure, Svafrlami. Svafrlami was the grandson of Odin, which inspired Rowan's renowned grandfather. Svafrlami forced a pair of dwarves to forge him an extremely powerful sword, but the sword was cursed by the dwarves. One of the dwarve's names was Dvalinn, so I incorporated that into Rowan's name (D. Valinn). Rowan’s Semblance is similar to a curse, although not relevant to the curse placed on the sword. Other: Jaune is best grill confirmed.
52,800	1,434	46	1,949	2,861	Rood von Rah Just as Rood turned, he leaned down a little and caught a slight glimpse of the faunus girl that had given him her tooth before this whole mission right before their foreheads met in a crack! "Oof!" The Egyptian prince stumbled back, holding his eyes and groaning. Through his splayed fingers, he managed to catch sight of tall-dark-and-broody doing a stupid spinning motion before grabbing a set of the pretty tarot card pieces. Rowan, too, just took whatever was closest. Rood closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, groaning in pain. "Aren't sharks not supposed to have bones or something? Yours are... owwww! Phew..." Rood straightened up and flashed her a bright smile paired with a pained scowl, making it look like he was 'baring his fangs' in a manner of a grinning smirk of sorts. "I pity the grimm that you headbutt!" Straigtening up, his eyes were slightly squinted as he looked to Rowan, nodding. "I don't think more than one is necessary. We should head back. Who knows what kind of things are... ah?" As he spoke, the ground rippled underneath them. Like... a creature moving beneath a bedsheet on a large scale, bringing the earth up and down as it moved. The hairs on the back of Rood's neck raised and he crouched down while pulling out his lance and holding his chain arm out. In the distance, the caw of a Nevermore was heard but below them... something perhaps more sinister waited. Then it stopped. The earth got still. Confused, Rood looked around at the other students. After a moment more of silence he started to relax. In that moment, the thing that had been moving below unearthed itself... directly beneath Rowan and Bonny. It raised itself up high, clamping both of them in it's maw, shrieked, and slid back down the hole it came in. A "Retrograde" Grimm. "Rowan! Bonny!" Rood went to leap in after them before the aforementioned Nevermore swept both Vlad and Rood up in its talons and flew into the sky above.	Rood von Rah Age 17 Gender Male Species Human APPEARANCE Height 6'2" Weight 211 lbs Clothing Style When not having to be in Beacon's uniform, Rood ordinarily adorns himself in ornate gold armor up to the waist with a royally bold red cape sashed at his waist which billows when he walks. He wears expensive heavy golden earrings and a red stone necklace at all times regardless if he is in uniform or not. His body is decorated with intricate red paint as a symbol of his status. Hair Color Blonde Eye Color Red COMBAT Weapons Eye of Ma'at His arm is covered in chains with a speared tip at the end, making lashing out with this long range weapon a very deadly experience. The speared tip can 'flower' out into a mini revolving end which Rood can fire off AS he whips this weapon around with the help of his semblance Mehet-Weret A classic lance with decorative and intricate craftsmanship. Best when paired with Rood's semblance. Though it has the option to use Dust, a situation where that would be necessary hasn't been crossed. Or has it? Semblance Friction Manipulation Rood is able to run on air (but NOT fly), walk on water, deflect oncoming attacks, increase or decrease and object's velocity, and change his own inertia. He is also able to generate heat, but not flames by concentrating all on the friction in regards to his body's/an object's placement. Without a gun, he is able to fire off bullets at will by concentrating his friction, hence the placement of the 'gun' at the end of his whip. See 'Other' for limitations. Dust Rood is extensively knowledgeable about Dust but for some reason doesn't carry any on him. Skills Taunting Evasion Surprise PERSONALIZED Personality Brash Dominant Sensitive Regal Passionate Skills -Has taken to playing a lute -Surprisingly, enjoys working with scrapped textiles to make fashionable outfits -Sewing Background For now, Rood's personal history will be shrouded in mystery. What can be shared is common knowledge to all students attending Beacon Academy. The Rah name belonged to a very prestigious family who once ruled the Kingdom of Mistral. The family line, however, fell due to unforeseen circumstances; enemies of past generations ambushed members of the family and cut them down. Desperate to hold the prestige of the family line, the few Rah's remaining married into Atlas' own royals the Schnee's. The two familie's connected only by forced marriages ruled in their separate kingdoms once order was restored, and the purity of the Rah line was forever broken. From there, two generations down, Rood was born a von Rah. This will be the first time in his life he has ever been exposed to working with others his own age. Character Theme Though he encompasses the summation of egyptian culture and religion as a whole, Rood is best described as a genderbent Neith, the Egyptian Goddess of War who wields a masculine bow and arrow. Traded instead for his main weapon is the feminine whip and his red necklace in place of her red crown. Neith is known for her love of weaving, which I wanted to really translate to Rood; which I did in the form of him enjoying sewing and making things out of it for others. 'Rood' is Dutch for red, and 'von' is a common German name add-on, which is frequent pattern seen in the Schnee name. Rah, of course is in reference to Ra, the egyptian God of the sun. Other: Jaune is the best About Friction - Rood's Semblance is vast in its potential, this is true. Or it would be if he could do more than one of any of those things at one time. Every use of his semblance takes all of his concentration, and it doesn't take long until all that usage takes a toll. Thanks to the nature of the semblance, Rood is at constant risk for overheating or in the worst case scenario spontaneously combusting, making his ability a dangerous one to wield for not only other, but for himself.
52,801	1,434	47	2,541	1,608	Bonny Mako Bonny felt herself being pushed and squeezed as she slid down the wormy Grimm's throat with Rowan. A slimy black goo coated her as she went (not that she could even see that), and made it very difficult to grab hold of anything. Finally, Bonny decided to just rip out another tooth (ow) and jab it into the stomach lining, finally halting her descent. With her free hand, she grabbed Rowan as he slid past. "Well," she said, trying not to breath too much so she wouldn't have to smell the Grimm's insides. "This be a fine predicament we've found ourselves stuck in, matey. Trapped in the belly of the beast." Bonny considered their options. It wasn't very often Hunters and Huntresses found themselves eaten alive by Grimm. It had happened before, but usually the whole "eaten" part tended to make the "alive" part impossible before the Grimm was finished with them. In this case, they'd been swallowed whole, with their weapons. Escape should be a simple matter... in theory, at least. "Just need to blow a great big bleedin' hole in yer arse..." Bonny mumbled, cursing the Grimm as she hung on to her tooth for dear life, carving a divot into the wall so she could slip more and more of her arm inside.	Bonny Mako Age: 17 Gender: Female Species: Shark Faunus APPEARANCE More or less like this. See below for details on where her appearance differs from the picture. Height: 5 ft., 11 in. Weight: 162 lbs., slightly less now that a significant chunk of her dorsal fin has been lost Clothing style: A blue and white striped long-sleeve shirt that's torn-up, short-cut, and somewhat revealing (though not quite as revealing as pictured above) paired with a comparatively modest blue-grey skirt. The skirt reaches down to below her knees or so in the front and drags behind her in the back, giving the illusion of a shark tail when blown by the wind or dragged behind her in the water. The fin-shaped pockets at her hips are actually fanny packs, in which to store loot. She wears a dark grey bandana with a skull and crossbones on it and old grey leather shoes that look ratty, water-logged and worn, and her idea of "accessorizing" boils down to grabbing or stealing anything remotely shiny or expensive-looking and wearing it as tacky bling. She also has an anchor tramp stamp. Hair color: Dirty blonde Eye color: Reddish brown COMBAT Weapon: Best described as an 18th century naval revolver cannon repurposed as a jetpack, the Revenge has six revolving chambers in which to load various types of cannonballs. Each chamber is marked by color (red for fire, blue for ice etc.) and can hold a few cannonballs each before needing to be reloaded. While this is obviously all fine and dandy, the Revenge has a hidden functionality you wouldn't guess until you've seen it in action, because you'd swear it was invented by a mad person. By taking the mounted rig normally used to carry the cannon minigun-style and slipping it over her shoulders, Bonny points the cannon at the ground, fires, and takes off like she's wearing a jetpack, dropping bombs on her enemies from the sky. This is not actual flight but rather a sort of rocket jumping, and Bonny rises and falls in a predictable parabolic arc when using it. Additionally, the cannon can also be used as a handy bludgeon or battering ram in close quarters combat. When Bonny repurposed her father's cannon into her own weapon, she realized the new revolver mechanism made the traditional rammer used to load cannonballs into the breach obsolete. Not wanting to get rid of such a fine piece of craftmanship, Bonny wrapped the rammer in cloth infused with fire-elememted Dust, creating a giant, reusable match. Now whenever Bonny wants to set something or someone on fire, she just strikes the rammer on the ground like a match, takes a swig of whatever's in her flask, and sprays it all over her makeshift torch, blowing fire everywhere like a carnival firespitter. She does this both because it's fun and because her cannon makes for an effective yet unwieldly melee weapon. This way, she can be quicker on the draw and avoid risking any damage to her main weapon. Semblance: Bonny's Semblance allows her to detect minute changes in electromagnetic fields with great sensitivity, much like a shark's ampullae of Lorenzini. She can sense muscle contractions in people and animals, which many people mistake for a psychic ability or having eyes in the back of her head. Due to this ability it is very difficult to hide from Bonny, and almost impossible to get the drop on her, as her Semblance allows her to "see" you move faster than normal eyes could process. It's also how she knows where to hit you from behind cover, and why she always greets people before they enter the room, something she likes to do just to freak people out. Dust: Bonny uses Dust ammunition in her cannon, launching cannonballs of various elemental types through the different chambers. Using fire Dust or explosives as a powder charge, she can also fire the cannon at the ground and use it like a jetpack to rocket jump. These cannonballs can also be tossed like bombs. The types of elemental dust Bonny uses in her cannon are Fire, Ice, and Electricity. She also uses explosive and smoke cannonballs. Skills: Tracking Aerial bombardment Taunting Drawing fire away from her teammates (though usually not on purpose) PERSONALIZED Personality: Loud Boisterous Kleptomaniac Hidden shame Skills: Swimming Lockpicking Pickpocketing Tracking Drinking Cardsharking Starting fires Singing sea shanties by the sea shore Background: A shark Faunus, and also secretly the daughter of the now infamous Faunus pirate Woodrow "Woody" Thatcher. Born to Woody and a human mother, Bonny and her family lived happily as a shining example of mixed-race marriage. For about two years, after which Bonny's mother was killed during a supposed "White Fang suppression" effort while defending her husband and child, a campaign that saw Bonny's hometown destroyed, burned to the ground, and Bonny and her father imprisoned with other Faunus refugees in the internment camp "Menagerie". They made a serious mistake in underestimating the depth and fire of the aquatic Faunus' rage however, and Thatcher soon conspired to escape from Menagerie with his daughter and a small group of like-minded men in tow. It was this group of escapees that would come to form the founding members of Woody "Dust to Dust" Thatcher's less than jolly crew of pirates, a mercenary group that sailed the high seas for years freeing Faunus and pillaging from the rich. Stealing a boat from the docks of lush human city just outside the borders of Menagerie, Thatcher put what little he knew about maritime protocols to use, and set sail a new and freed man. At first, during the early years, they just took on jobs for disenfranchised Faunus, only striking out at Remnant's oppressive governments when provoked... or when given the chance. It was these years that Bonny would come to remember as the golden ones, where she as a young girl truly felt as free and guiltless as the pirates her father read to her about in story books. But this wasn't Neverland, and she couldn't stay a kid forever. As time went on, the jobs Thatcher's crew took on became increasingly violent, fueled by the bitterness and hatred of the oppressed Faunus and her father, who never truly got over the loss of his wife. Their pillaging became more frequent, targeting not just rich government officials, but any human towns they could find. Villages burned. People died. Innocent people. Her father cited the needs of an always growing crew, but Bonny knew better. She knew her father and the crew were striking back because they hated humans, because they couldn't forgive in their hearts the things they had done to them. And their violent acts of rebellion were only growing worse. Bonny watched as the illusion that had carefully protected her through childhood crumbled, and her father's crew became monsters to her. Though she knew what they were doing was wrong, Bonny had tasted enough of human cruelty that she was still indecisive, unable to agree with her father but equally unable to invision a life for herself outside of the crew. Unable to forgive the hatred that was in her own heart, the hatred imparted to her by her father. That all changed the day her father began planning the siege. It was the largest operation the crew had attempted to date, and it would see them returning to the coast where they had first escaped from Menagerie. The plan was simple. Create as much chaos and destruction as physically possible to draw attention and manpower away from the borders of Menagerie. Then, a small group of men from Thatcher's crew would infiltrate Menagerie and start a riot, breaching the walls and defenses of the prison with a flood of angry Faunus that would cascade into the city, creating even more damage and senseless violence. Then, once the chaos became self-sustaining, the crew would pull out, leaving the city and its human inhabitants to their fate. The sheer horrificness of the plan, not to mention its size and scope, shocked Bonny out of any illusions she had that her father was not a criminal, and she began plotting mutiny. The night before the siege was scheduled to begin, Bonny smashed all the bottles of rum and spirits aboard the ship and set it ablaze, ripping the ship's ornate main cannon off the bow and swimming out to sea with it. If all went well, she'd make landfall in a few hours. More than enough time to warn the city before her father got the fire under control. All did not go well. Her father caught wind of her betrayal, and as she set off towards shore with the cannon in tow, her father shot at her in rage, puncturing a hole in her dorsal fin near the base that made it almost impossible for Bonny to swim carrying the giant cannon. However she persisted anyway, and disappeared into the night. The damage to her fin proved greater than she'd imagined, and it left her unable to stabilize. Eventually she veered far off course, losing time and gaining miles until eventually she ended up on the shores of Atlas, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, and blood loss. She had just about torn her fin off trying to make it to shore with the cannon, and by the time she made it, the siege was already over. Miles and miles down the coast, the defenseless city had fallen, and Menagerie had been breached, causing the largest prison break of interned Faunus yet reported. To add insult to injury, her futile efforts cost Bonny her fin, and with it her hopes of ever swimming again. Landlocked, out of hope and out of options, Bonny found her way out as a Huntress. Gaining an Atlas sponsorship for the combat skills she'd honed as part of a pirate crew, she fashioned herself a weapon out of her father's old cannon, eventually graduating from the preliminary combat schools and finding her way to Beacon as a transfer student, where she hoped/hopes to start a new life. Character theme: While Bonny represents the Golden Age of Piracy as a whole, she is more specifically based loosely off of Anne Bonny, an infamous female pirate who left a life of privilege and luxury behind to sail the seven seas on a ship called Revenge, burning her father's livelihood to the ground as she left. Other: Image Song Jaune is the best.

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