index
int64 0
56.6k
| thread_id
int64 0
1.54k
| message_id
int64 0
752
| author_id
int64 0
2.81k
| author_num_posts
int64 2
36k
| message
stringlengths 0
134k
| character
stringlengths 0
110k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
55,702 | 1,527 | 38 | 276 | 729 | Regina shied back with a look of sorrow at Genevieve. She looked down as she slowly dropped to the floor, joining her hands behind her back. She glanced at Sakaala's feet as the lioness spoke and nodded as a response, not really wanting to speak after getting yelled at like a child.
Genevieve then said “It is getting late, and I would have my champions well rested and prepared. Should you all be in agreement with my terms, I have prepared rooms for each of you, I do hope they are to your liking. Your beds have already been turned down, and there are hot baths waiting for you in your personal quarters. If there is nothing else, my aid will escort you upstairs.” Regina looked up and glanced at the others before approaching Genevieve. "Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you privately for a few minutes." She looked up at her employer with puppy-dog eyes, hoping the woman would give her a chance to speak. "Please? It won't take long."
If Genevieve accepted, Regina would smile softly. "Should we wait here until everyone else has left or do you have another room?" As she asked, she began thinking of multiple ways to apologize for her rash and disrespectful actions in the past.
If Genevieve declined, she would walk away in sorrow, going to the room that had been readied for her. Once there, she would lay in bed and attempt to sleep, having decided she'd rather bathe in the morning. After a long time mentally berating herself for her past actions a quarter of a century ago, she would eventually sleep fitfully and restlessly. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,703 | 1,527 | 39 | 1,153 | 95 | Truth be told, I think the offer almost too good, but perhaps I am not properly gauging the gravity of this task.
Sir Erran had accepted his introduction and replied in a way that was befitting of a knight.
Ionathan gave Erran a warm smile. "You show more wisdom then me when I was your age but a word of warning, do not fight her alone, your armour, weapons and skill are formidable but not infallible, I'm sure she has some tricks that we could blunder right into" Pausing for a moment he realised how he sounded like a nagging old master of arms.
"I'm probably underestimating your training, but if anyone has to die out of the two of us, I want it to be me".
He let Genevieve end the matter of reading minds, her explosion of rage did not surprise him, she had done this before the last time Regina tried to delve her mind back in Waeldeshore as she soon mentioned.
"My questioning of her motivation,"
"Is more a question of our own morality. Were we not to ask, even if she were to lie to us now, makes us little better than the same people you seem to hate, as there is obviously some reason to doubt their nobility."
Ionathan stood to give his cramping muscles some rest when Sakaala spoke words that hit Ionathan hard. In the war the point of the nobility of the opponent came across several times, it was never spoken but it was felt throughout war. Ionathan believed in what he was fighting for and he believed that he was in the right. But what of the families of the enemy? Do they feel the same believing their own truth? They must love their families as fiercely as we do.
Even in the mist of battle these thoughts could strike home. When you strike down a foe it would rarely be an instant kill due to their armour. In their dying moments, some would lash out with whatever strength they had left with hatred still in their eyes, others would beg for mercy and start crying out for help from anyone even praying to the gods.
The worst of all would be after battles, you could walk across some battlefields treading on nothing but corpses, you would feel victorious, proud, you had just vanquished your enemies just a few moments ago, slaughtering all who got in your way and yet at the same time you could hear the moaning from the dying and the stench of battle. In the past he had just stuck fingers in his ears and opted to ignore the fact that even though he claimed to have been good through his actions, he had caused much pain and suffering.
These were the thoughts that struck Ionathan at that moment, he stood as still as a statue, eyes glazed over as if he was staring at an object one thousand yards away.
It is getting late, and I would have my champions well rested and prepared. Should you all be in agreement with my terms, I have prepared rooms for each of you, I do hope they are to your liking. Your beds have already been turned down, and there are hot baths waiting for you in your personal quarters. If there is nothing else, my aid will escort you upstairs.”
The words that had been in the background now snapped him back. The offer of a nice warm bath felt like a divine blessing, it would be a good chance to relax and shave off the annoying stubble that had grown in the days it took him to get here.
Sakaala agreed to the "intent" of the quest, the wording she used puzzled him but if she was powerful as The Redd, then he would be pleased to have her fight alongside him any day.
Regina had just asked to talk to Genevieve privately which did not worry him, he had fought with both of them and felt a bond with them only made in battle.
"Have you any last questions for the lady?" Ionathan said, turning to Erran. | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,704 | 1,527 | 40 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Before Ajax could lambast the halfling once more for her constant use and abuse of her powers, the owner of the house took charge and shouted her down, apparently not for the first time. My my, what a temper she showed, how the mask of harmony and control fell every now and again. What explanations followed fell on deaf ears, there may be truths in them but now Ajax had no doubt that it was in his best interest to see this adventure through. Not out of some sense of duty or altruism, but simply because he could see the dagger in the dark, the obvious deceit, and if anything about the power this woman sought was true, he wanted to be the one to crush it.
Of course, this didn't come through visibly. Instead, he simply clapped his hands together once when offered comfortable lodging. Well, it was more like smashing the two palms together rather forcefully, causing a booming noise and perhaps making others wonder what it'd be like for something caught in between and the likelihood of it happening during their travels. "Ah, now that is a good attitude from a host! Yes I will accept your hospitality. I also require food and drink! A man should enjoy himself before he heads off to face death!" He still had things he would discuss with the beastess, but this was not the time nor the place. He might as well enjoy himself while he could. | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,705 | 1,527 | 41 | 1,054 | 1,812 | Genevieve glanced around the room as they chattered lightly, agreeing not only to the terms, but to the accommodations that were offered.
"Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you privately for a few minutes. Please? It won't take long." the hin spoke up, her voice was much softer than before, near a whimper, with eyes that matched those of a child, pleading for something. She pursed her lips a moment before answering.
"There is no need to beg for my attention, you don't have to look at me like that, you are not a child. I can spare a moment or two, but then I really must start working on a enchantments. One never knows the dangers that creep about at night."
One by one they each chimed in a response of some sort to their hostess. She relieved herself from her seat and headed towards the archway. A small golden bell rested on a shelf just beside the intricate molding of the large open arch. Ionathan posed a question to Erran, as the young knight was the only one who hadn't added much to their conversation. She glanced him over briefly, waiting for his words. He was a handsome young man, with much potential, she only hoped he didn't get himself killed out there. It wasn't long before the brute had spoke up, tearing her gaze away from the young knight. "Ah, now that is a good attitude from a host! Yes I will accept your hospitality. I also require food and drink! A man should enjoy himself before he heads off to face death!"
"Very well." She reached for the bell, giving it a quick shake. The gentle ringing must have reached the young woman quite quickly, for she suddenly appeared beside Genevieve. "For any that wish to speak with me, state your business now. Otherwise my aid will escort you upstairs. I will have food and drink sent up to your rooms shortly. If you wish to 'enjoy' yourself however, there is a tavern down the road. I'm afraid that is the one thing that my household lacks. But if you truly wish to leave this house, you will not be able to re enter until the morning. Once the protection spells go up, there is no coming or going. And while the tavern does have decent food and drink, and if you have the coin, the means to 'entertain', I do not think they have much in the way of protection. I will send someone to fetch each of you at sunlight. Have a pleasant evening."
She offered a small nod to the woman by her side. It was the same woman from earlier, the same simple face, void of any expression, hands folded behind her back, waiting for each of their guests to follow her upstairs. Genevieve turned to Regina and ushered herself back towards the table. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,706 | 1,527 | 42 | 2,620 | 2,551 | Have you any last questions for the lady? Ionathan asked Emil, as he stood to go. Following suit, Emil stood up as well, the offer of warm bedding and bathing a wonderful respite from the last week and a half of traveling and sleeping against his horse. Emil was almost giddy at the offer- catching himself before he appeared immature. Strange that he enjoyed the idea of warm food, bed and bathing moreso than he had before- this wasn't his first time on the road for any stretch of time, and it certainly wouldn't be his last. But perhaps the idea of something that reminded him of home that had him this way.
Remembering that Ionathan had asked him a question, Emil slowly shook his head. "Ah, no, Sir Ionathan- and Lady Genevieve, I have no further questions that have not yet been asked."
Lady Genevieve reached for a bell and gave it a shake, almost magically producing the same young girl from before- the one with the simple, yet charming appearance. Giving the young maid a small smile, Emil would follow the maid and the others as they were led to their respective rooms.
The "Personal Quarters" the Sage spoke of, were quite lavish to say the least. While not a massive room, it was plenty spacious for a single person, and featured fine, dark wood flooring, a large soft bed with a trunk at its foot was the most prominent piece of furniture in the room. On the opposite wall was a small seating area, with a short table, and a few cushioned chairs, alongside a desk, and small bookshelf. The bookshelf itself was only sparsely populated- Emil doubted the lady would leave many books in a guest room as opposed to a library, and the entirety of the room was set a warm yellow-orange from the glow of various lamps placed throughout the room. Steam filtering out of an open doorway in the corner of the room implied that the bath was also heated and ready for him to enter.
Taking a moment to walk around the room and take in his surroundings, Emil gently rested his sword and shield at the foot of the bed by the trunk, and took his time removing his armor from his body. Now free of the weight of his armor- which admittedly wasn't that heavy, Emil rolled his shoulders and stretched, his muscles whining from not having been properly stretched in days. | Name: Emil Erran
Species: Human
Age: 18
Description:
Emil is a young man standing in at about 5'10" in height, with the build of an athlete- or at least one used to continuous physical exertion. While not the pinnacle of strength and endurance, Emil is in good fighting shape, and his body is sinewy and lithe. He has a few scars on his body- though none of them are from combat. His eyes are a deep green, and his blonde hair is typically short and out of the way. His typical attire is a deep blue tunic, with thick trousers, and well worn leather boots and gloves. In combat, he wears a cuirass to protect his upper chest, while still allowing him full range of motion while mounted, reinforced with tough leather, along with armor on his boots, sides, shoulders and forearms.
Personality:
Warm and kind-hearted, Emil is a modest young knight with a strong sense of morality and justice. This level headed knight tries his best to stay brave and rational in the face of hardship and adversity, despite his inexperience. Due to his young age, Emil is rather impressionable, and expresses a desire to learn various skills and tricks from the older veterans, though is often self conscious about his lesser skills when compared to that of the more experienced members of the group. Honest and trustworthy, Emil is compassionate and kind, if a little shy and soft-spoken. Loyal to a fault, Emil is more than willing to risk himself for the sake of others, and goes to great lengths to defend his loved ones. A very down to earth and grounded individual, Emil's calm and generally positive demeanor, while occasionally bordering on naivety, bolsters the spirits of those around him.
Skills/Abilities:
As a young Knight, Emil is well trained in multiple martial skills, but lacks field experience. He has fought alongside his lord-knight, while still a squire and is no stranger to battle, but is not what one would call a veteran. While young, and not as capable of an armsman as the rest of his older peers, Emil possesses worldly knowledge and skills unexpected from one his age, and is knowledgeable of a variety of skills in various fields.
--- Martial Skills ---
Adept Swordsmanship - As the son of a knight, and a knight himself, Emil has received martial training in various fields, and is capable with many weapons, but shows the most promise with a sword. Skilled enough to face down a common soldier or an untrained fighter and coming out no worse for wear, Emil struggles against more hardened and experienced foes.
Journeyman Spearmanship - Along with his swordsmanship, Emil has received training with the spear and lance, though it is clear he shows a preference to the sword. His stance and form are solid, and the spear is by nature, an easy weapon to pick up and use. He lacks the refinement of a master spearman, but can still use it with relative effectiveness.
Journeyman Archery - Alongside his other martial skills, Emil has also been trained in the use of the bow and arrow. He is neither particularly fast, nor particularly accurate with the bow, and is for all intents and purposes, average. He does slightly better with a crossbow, and primarily utilizes this skill for hunting.
Journeyman Horseback Riding - As a knight, Emil is trained on how to ride a horse, take care of a horse, and fight from a horse, though it is clear that he would prefer to do combat while on the ground. Stamina stemming from his youthfulness allows him to ride for hours without considerable exhaustion.
Trained Armor use - Years of training have taught Emil how to quickly don and remove plate armor, and can thus move with more dexterity and quickness than one without training would be able to. He is also well versed on the care of plate armor.
Trained Shield use - Several years of training has shown Emil how to properly brace and use a shield to block and deflect blows. As he is not the largest presence on the battlefield, when faced with larger foes, Emil primarily relies on deflecting and sidestepping enemy blows rather than attempting to completely stop or black oncoming attacks
--- Trade Skills ---
Journeyman Cooking - While not a master chef by any meaning of the word, Emil is resourceful and can cook a variety of meals with what little resources are often available while in the field.
Journeyman Surgery/First Aid - Unable to treat wounds via magic, Emil has been trained and is experienced with treating a variety of minor and moderate wounds, and is even capable of some surgery for more serious wounds. These treatments are not magic, and do not mend wounds instantly- nor do they guarantee the successful mending of wounds, but can serve to stave off death until more experienced doctors or healers can provide aid.
Journeyman Crafting - From tailoring and needlework, to leather-working, Emil, while not particularly amazing at any craftsman's trade, is skilled enough to make field repairs to clothing and armor.
Magic
Emil has no skill or control over magic, though it appears that he may have the affinity for magic. He views magic with suspicion and a small amount of fear, and while he has accepted magic as a facet of life, he is still unnerved by it.
Backstory:
The city of Edessa is a fair sized city-state located along the coast of __(mainland continent neighboring Silver Lily Isles)__. Edessa is a constitutional monarchy led primarily by the King, and a group of senators. It is not a major military power, but is known for its high quality knights and sturdy and reliable trade ships, and also contributed a large portion of its forces Mage-Wars decades ago. Edessa, due to its proximity to the Silver Lily Isles, often trades with the settlements on the Isle, most notably Waeldeshore. Edessa and Waeldeshore have built a rather positive trade relationship over the past two decades, and ships bearing Edessan flags are common in Waeldeshore and vice versa.
Emil, youngest son of the Erran family, comes from a long line of Edessan Knights. Emil, like the rest of his brothers were introduced to the lifestyle of a knight at a young age, and were immersed in their culture from the moment he could walk. The son of a Edessan Knight and his wife, Emil and his brothers were well educated at a young age and were taught manners as well as basic martial skills and knowledges as children. Throughout their childhood, Emil and his brothers would often venture into the city to play with other children. Emil made friends easily, and was known for his gentle and sensitive demeanor, while the rest of his brothers were respected for their various other qualities.
As they Erran children grew older, they were trained in the ways of various weapons, such as the spear and sword, and were trained in horsemanship and riding. After his seventh birthday, Emil was apprenticed to another noble family to serve as a page, where he would begin to further refine horsemanship and swordsmanship as well as learn the intricacies of reading and writing. A naturally perceptive and relatively intelligent child, Emil was treated well by his host family, and learned much under their tutelage.
The Knights of Edessa, or the Edessan Knights as many know them as, are an order of knights based in the city of Edessa. These knights are tasked with serving and protecting the people of Edessa, and often promote humanitarian movements to hunting monsters in the surrounding areas. These stalwart warriors are well known for both their valor and martial skill, despite their relatively small numbers. Every male member of the Erran family had been an Edessan Knight at one point in their life. Emil's brother is among the famed members of the Edessan Knights, and one of the King's personal guards. Each of Emil's brothers has already entered service in the order.
As he turned 14, he became squire to a famed Edessan Knight, where he furthered his training, continuing his work on bladesmanship and horsemanship, as well as learning archery, music, speech, and skills befitting a young knight. Here he learned how to take care of, and maintain armor, how to tend horses and treat wounds. The next several years were difficult, his knight was fair, but strict, and offered him nothing but the most difficult challenges to face.
Now a fresh 18 years old, Emil's journey to become a full fledged knight of Edessan has been completed, and Emil undertakes his first few journeys as his own knight. A message from the Great Sage Genevieve of Waeldeshore gives Emil his first taste of an adventure that he can call his own.
Possessions, Equipment, Weapons:
Father's Sword - A gift given to Emil by his father, upon his recent knighting. The sword is forged from Dwarven Steel- a special dwarven metallurgy technique that results in a tougher, denser, more durable steel. The blade is old and worn from use, but still remains a reliable weapon. A shorter than average bastard sword, it is light and maneuverable enough to be held in one hand, but its two handed grip makes it able to be wielded with two.
Common Spear - A 6 foot pole of ash wood, with a steel tip attached. One of the most common personal weapons in the world, this weapon is easily used, and easily replaced. Able to be wielded with one hand, but most effective with two.
Shortbow & Quiver - A short yew bow meant for hunting. Plain and simple, without any sort of frills, other than leather wrapping around the grip. A wooden and leather quiver contains 20 arrows. Both are typically stored on the outer saddlebags of Emil's horse.
Heater Shield - A mid-sized shield with the Erran family coat of arms emblazoned across it. It is a lightweight metal shield that can be strapped to the forearm and secured with the hand. It has a leather strap that allows it to be slung over the shoulder/worn over the back.
Edessan Half Plate - a cut down suit of plate armor generally utilized by mounted Edessan knights and soldiers. Plates protect major parts of the body, while the rest of the body is protected with tough leather and mail under a tunic. This is to allow light weight, and greater mobility while mounted. The benefits confer to foot combat as well.
Roark, Horse - A well bred, multi-purpose horse ridden by Emil. Roark is a calm, well mannered horse, that doesn't scare easily. Roark wears boiled leather barding(armor) on his face, neck, and body. The barding is lightweight, and can protect Roark from glancing blows but doesn't provide much protection elsewise. Its still better than nothing, Emil argues. Roark also has saddlebags on his sides and behind the saddle.
Roark's saddlebags contain: A pair of leather waterskins, a small pouch with money, a tinderbox, lines and tackle for fishing, a small iron bowl for cooking, a small hatchet for wood gathering, a small knife and whetstone, a length of rope (approx. 30 feet), a spool of fine thread and needle, a roll of clean cloth and bottle of spirits for cleaning and treating wounds, a pouch of herbal ointment, a lantern with several spare candles, a few days worth of provisions for Emil as well as his horse. Behind the saddle is a blanket and spare clothes are wrapped in a roll of canvas. |
55,707 | 1,527 | 43 | 276 | 729 | Regina watched Genevieve as she spoke to the group, taking note of everything. Some of the other spoke as well though she was barely listening. She was deep in her thoughts, her eyes trained on the floor. She waited for everyone else to leave the room before looking back at Genevieve, who was beginning to usher her towards the table. With a small nod, she sat at the table, looking down.
"It's been twenty-five years since we met and you're still as beautiful as ever. Smart, wise, everything I wish I was. I've always been brash and hot-headed. Even now, though I've mellowed some with age." She glanced up at the woman with a frown. "When we first met, I was young, dumb and full of... well, you know. I could see anything from someone's mind and took advantage of it more often than I'd like to admit. Even on you. I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. I wish I could make it up to you but I don't know how except letting you see all my life. I want you to be able to trust me. I don't want to hurt you like I did that day. I..." She stopped and sniffled, a tear falling down her cheek.
With a deep breath, she looked down at the table again. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't even deserve your kindness. I forced my way in your mind. You didn't deserve that. Nobody does. If you want, I'll go. I'll leave and I won't return." She looked up at her again, tears slowly falling down her cheeks. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,708 | 1,527 | 44 | 2,426 | 2,292 | Very well. The human woman remarked before reaching out for the fine metal bell not far from her grasp and its faint ring summoned the younger woman from nowhere quite abruptly to her side. Beneath the archway, golden bell returned to its resting place, the arcanist carried on in formal conversation, but little of it drew the monstrous half beast's attention aside from those most obvious and what was worthy of note.
Sakaala was not fond of the notion of these abjurant wards Lady Genevieve was referring to, but the warrior-mage was less concerned about their actual existence and more so that that they would even be deemed a necessity as it was so inferred; nothing that liberal dispel magic could not overcome with sheer force and time, something of which the beastly woman could perform through sheer force of self and person. All the same, it did not sit well in heart or spirit.
Watching at first as the lady of the manor withdrew, this time beckoning the halfling woman to her, the enormity of the leonine form turned lightly, watching then the youngest member, this "Knight of Edessa", as he carried himself too and with the maid as she awaited the rest of the company; her hands characteristically folded behind her back. Looking back once more to the woman that was their host from over her shoulder, the Huntress' blind eye provided a cold stare and the flick of an ear accompanied it with subtle and inhuman body language. It was the sort of message that conveyed underlying distrust, but it was short lived, for she carried on after, allowing herself to be led to her quarters.
The moment the door shut behind her, the room seemingly to herself and the sound of footfall disappearing, she produced a long sigh. Both eyes clenched for a moment, her jowls curved lightly at the upper lip in a grimace; the expression revealed her long, pearly fangs, some of which bore faint marring of days long past. No more than another moment later and having shaken off whatever ill memory fell upon her, she seemed to relax and utter a growly incantation - eyes still tightly closed, turning emotion into fuel to stoke the flames of power that naturally resided within her.
"Deh'a Ahalak." Her voice willed foreign magic into existence and a faint illumination calmly burnt from within her stare, shielded only by the lids of her eyes while the utterance itself was a forgotten tongue.
Preparing to open them and see what magic filled the environment around her in the stately domain, she knew she might not be fond of what she would find, which may very well all be a trap. Instinctively, her left hand motioned toward the bound hilt of the large elven blade which hung across her back where then each of her padded, powerful fingers then rested upon it. The right arm however, remained motionless and still. Exhaling once more, the former hunter of men allowed her eyes to gaze upon the environment around her and take in whatever magic might visibly linger in her sight, prepared if need be for conflict. This time however, she would be able to see what effects existed within the environment.
Then again, this sort of behavior was not out of the ordinary for one who had been captured before. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,709 | 1,527 | 45 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax had no need for that sort of 'enjoyment', both because he'd had his fill recently enough and because he was surprisingly tame as far as his sexual appetites went. A combination of living away from people for most of his life and an old saying of his father's, "women weaken legs", meant that while a human with urges, Ajax wasn't quite the brute people expected as far as that went. He did, however, cheekily pat the serving girl and motioned for her to stay in his room, more to see what would happen and to contradict the owner of the house than any real need. The lady in waiting simply stared blankly at his grinning face before leaving.
With that dealt with and ample food and drink soon provided by the same girl, who once again refused the invitation to stay and enjoy herself for the night, Ajax simply enjoyed the given hospitality as was his custom before engaging in any adventure. Let others worry about sinister magics and daggers hidden in the dark, for the truly strong saw no need to fear what couldn't harm them. Skin tough as an ogre's, a stomach that could survive any poison, enough muscle and skill and presence of mind to crush the supernatural in his grasp, yes, Ajax felt quite secure that he could face whatever was thrown at him by this point in his life. | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,710 | 1,527 | 46 | 2,426 | 2,292 | Across the ornate darkwood floor she carried herself with those dimly lit eyes proving to scan intently, hunting; her vision enchanted with the subtle effects of the divination's scrying. Within her view, as her head panned from broad shoulder to shoulder, soft, light auras caressed the edges of the room in a color reminiscent of carnations. All the while her powerful palm rested upon the binding of the sword, for she proved as ready as any woman of her ability and stature should be.
Abjuration. The sorcerous beast noted, approaching the corner of the room where several lines of the soothing pink pooled.
Crouching, careful not to contact the field itself, she drew out her hand from the sword and but inches from the spell as she felt out its presence with her own. Willing the magic that imbued her sight stronger, she quickly assessed the spell in question, which was as she had hoped and its familiar arcane energy was welcoming to her; not an ounce of her person or the spell resisted.
Warded against evil. But there was more to it, cleverly hidden, for as her concentration grew, her search shifted about innately as if drawn to the energy that lingered silently in the air.
Turning her attention up, scarred muzzle following the lines, she noted the presence of another school of magic that traced the fixtures of the walls, specifically those that were trimmed in polished brass. No surprise for the home of a mage, the golden aura about the finery that were the candelabras and similar additions was more than mere candle and flame; they were sheathed in divining magic. Some sort of mystic sensor, but it soon became evident why they were there at all.
The room itself concealed a powerful evocation in the form of a purge, and the warrior-mage carefully examined it, rising to standing and thus not far from its resting place atop the ceiling. So tall was the beast-woman that if she wished, she could have reached out and touched the chandelier that hung not far above her, but the whole ordeal of doing so was most unneeded. She knew enough by observing the concealed spell what its purpose was, and there existed no question to it as both her eyes and memory focused in upon it; it was an evocation to dispel concealment, be it invisibility or otherwise. The "bane of shadows", so to speak.
Chest concealed beneath the beaten breastplate of tarnished silvery metal rising and falling in a deep, snarly laugh, she chuckled. "Wise."
Content with her findings, she withdrew at last her demeanor of extreme caution and instead turned her attention to the bath that awaited her; the steam rising lightly from the doorway beyond, just as she had been promised. She had mostly ignored the furnishings of the lavish room, not wishing to disturb them or mar their fine craftsmanship in her search, be them the plush chairs or fine wooden accompaniment. But it was at last the time to attend to the matter and with a gesture of her hand, directed at a distance, she willed the magic within her blood and person to secure the door to her quarters behind her, and an invisible force answered her beck and call.
It locked audibly, with bolt rotating into place as though manipulated by intangible fingers. While the defense was mundane and certainly not a match for any mage capable of warding a home such as this, it did provide a delay for most uninvited guests... not that she of all persons was likely to have any.
Now however, the time to settle in and wash away weeks of travel had become an opportunity. And then? Perhaps sleep would be in order... | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,711 | 1,527 | 47 | 1,054 | 1,812 | Genevieve was relieved when the lot quickly followed behind her aide and disappeared up the stairs. Her night was not over just yet though. She turned to the hin, offering her to sit at the table with her. She had expected some long tale of loss and woe or adventure and gain .. something, anything but what had been given.
"There will be no pity party here. I have called each of you here for a reason and your job is not over yet. So don't sulk your way into oblivion." Genevieve's words were a bit cold, but they were merely a reflection of her own discomfort. A soft sigh escaped, her eyes scanning the lines in the floor as if to try and find the correct words to say.
"The truth is, I am not good with people. I have spent most of my adult life in solitude and study. I realize that I may come off cold and drawn out. Flattery will get you no where, but I do appreciate the sentiment, and the apology." she nodded once and offered Regina a handkerchief before continuing. "Your ability ... it effects me somehow. I suppose it has to do with my own magiks. It becomes hard to focus, perhaps I'm just not disciplined enough as a mage." her words were meant to try and cheer Regina up, however her tone, even as it was, hadn't seemed to acknowledge the tears and sadness emanated from the hin.
She bit her lower lip in frustration. "Please do not go. You are a valuable member of this team, we need you if we are to succeed. Ok?" Something was different about her. Twenty five years ago, Regina may have picked up on the awkwardness and lack of social interaction, but one thing that Genevieve constantly displayed was compassion. And it was one thing that was completely lacking just now. Genevieve knew it too, she just hoped her words were enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~ ** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Finally coming upon their cottage, the rogue scaled the walls, inspected and examined every crevice and crack. She was determined to make her way inside somehow. There was no room for failure. She made a note of the spells she could detect, they seemed to be wearing off some. Which meant that Genevieve didn't yet have a chance to cast new ones. It could mean she had an opening, however it was a small one at best. No ... there had to be another way.
The guest rooms lined the back of the house, illuminating as each guest was shown inside. That was it! Genevieve expected magic of some sort. A forced entry, a shadowy figure ... The key would be to enter without using magic then. Dangerous as it may be, there had to be one person at least who wouldn't try to slit her throat. The walls of the courtyard climbed high enough, allowing the rogue a perfect view of the rooms. Heavy curtains draped over the windowpanes, but most were left open enough to allow her a glimpse inside, and more specifically, at who had occupied each room. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,712 | 1,527 | 48 | 276 | 729 | Regina nodded and stood from the chair. "I'll leave you be for the night," she said, turning towards the hall. She stopped as if to say something else but could think of nothing to say. She sighed and shook her head before heading down the hall towards the room that had been set for her. Halfway down the hall, though, she stopped and began looking around. She sighed as she looked back the way she came. She didn't know which room she had been assigned.
She walked to the end of the hall with a frown, dragging her feet. With her mind seeking others, she could sense where everyone was. She felt Sakaala's hesitance and instinct though could not see into her mind as to why. She found Ionathan and considered asking him if the maid that had led him to his room had pointed out her room as well but decided against it. In the end, she stood at the end of the hall, looking out the window.
It was then she noticed another mind in the area. "Someone's here," she said to herself, her eyes opening wide. She focused on the intruder's mind, hoping to see who they were and why they were here but all she could see was that she wanted in. She ran to Sakaala's room and knocked loudly. "Sakaala," she called out, trying not to sound hectic, "could we talk for a bit?" While waiting for Sakaala to answer, she sent a quick mental message to Genevieve.
"I'm sorry for invading your mind again but I just sensed the mind of an intruder on the wall. I have a plan to deal with her and I need you to not panic. Please just trust me. If you want to talk, I'm outside Sakaala's room."
She cut the mental connection with a shake of her head before connecting to Ionathan's mind.
"Come to Sakaala's room. Bring your student. Remain calm. I need your help."
She shook her head again before looking up at Sakaala's door. She expected her to open the door rather quickly but wouldn't be too sad if the Lioness took her time. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,713 | 1,527 | 49 | 1,153 | 95 | Entering his chambers, he looked around and observed the room. He suspected his room was just like the others which showed the generosity of the host. Walking across the room, he came to a wooden tub that was filled with steaming water. Just what he needed after a long journey.
With a heavy sigh, he unslung his pack and placed it inside the beds trunk. After stripping out of his armour and attachments he dipped into the bath which was at the perfect temperature.
The maid soon came in with some dinner and drink, she remained stoic even though Ionathan was in the bath tub. She arranged the table while engaged in some small talk. After a rubbing some herbal paste around his body and hair then rinsing it out he left the bath and began drying himself with some towels before dressing in a long black dressing gown that came down to his feet.
He was just tucking in to some smoked fish when he heard a small tapping at the window. Assuming it was some heavy rain decided to go back to his fish, but the tapping noise persisted, setting his fork aside he walked towards the windows. It was almost pitch black, his bath may have taken longer than he anticipated.
He opened the window and looked down. There was not an person to be found, he was about to close the windows when he turned his head to the right and found himself staring right into the eyes of Isabeau. He froze on the spot but realised that she hadn't attacked. He raised an eyebrow and decided to play it cool.
“If you’re here to kill me. Make it quick”
"Is that what she has told you then?" The rogue would have normally just let herself into his room, but considering she was the one under suspicion, she stayed her position, hoping he would invite her out of the rain.
"I suppose I shouldn't sound so surprised, I had suspected as much. But no, I have no intentions of harming you." A spark of warmth lit her face as she offered him a genuine smile. "It is good to see you though, it has been a while."
It had been so long since she had seen the group of them from Waeldeshore. She had imagined most of them to be dead, and was quite happy to see that Ionathan at least had survived the brutal years. If she could somehow gain his trust, she knew the rest would soon fall into place.
With a sigh of and smile of relief he opened the window further to allow her in "It sure has been a while, hasn't it” he said giving her a hand into his room, quietly shutting the window behind her.
He closed the curtains and began to whisper, if someone did overhear what they might speak of, he could easily be branded a traitor himself.
“You should know that Genevieve has become quite hostile towards you, she calls you the witching, which I'm sure is not meant as a compliment and has gathered all these people for the soul purpose of hunting you down and retrieving the relic"
He offered her a seat and looked at her with a knowing gaze “but I’m sure you knew that already”.
Looking down, he remembered that he was still just in his bath robe, quickly sitting himself down to mitigate his embarrassment he moved the food across the table towards her, gesturing that she was free to share the smoked fish that was by this time growing cold.
“Anyway, I’m sure this wasn’t just a chance for a quick chat with an old companion, but before we go any further I must know, why did you steal the relic?”
She gracefully stepped into the room, lowering her hood once inside. She had aged, but not much. Her light green eyes sparkled in the candlelight as she moved towards the door. Pressing her ear to the dark wood, she listened carefully, for any movement on the other side.
Satisfied, she turned to face Ionathan. "When I had returned with the lot from the mountain, Genevieve had sent me on another quest, one to find the third and final key. It took me many years, many dead ends ... I had come across a group of people that were more than willing to help me in my quest and in allowing their aid, I learned things. When I returned, I noticed a great change in Lady Genevieve."
She crossed the room and rested in a nearby chair. "I went to speak with her about my concerns, my findings, and the more we spoke, the more possessive and hostile she became. That was when I realized, it was the relic that was making her behave this way ... The greed, the desire. She went to kill Jeltheor not out of some righteous rage, but out of greed. She wanted his power, and any information he had on the last key. That is why I stole it. I had hoped that her greed would subside, and when it didn't, I had to hide it. I knew it was only a matter of time before should would come out this way. But I had to do something until could figure out how to destroy it"
Ionathan rubbed his forehead with hand "you've put me in a very difficult position, if what you say is true were does that leave -”
"Come to Sakaala's room. Bring your student. Remain calm. I need your help."
Getting up slowly he walked towards the trunk and rummaged around for some casual clothes
“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I just got a message from Regina, she wants to meet me. You wouldn’t mind turning around, would you?”
Turning his back to Isabeau he stated to put on a green tunic and brown trousers “Regina still got a soft spot for you, she took the news about you turning traitor by slamming her fist against the wall”
Putting on some thick cotton socks he made his way towards Isabeau and gave her a warm smile “one last bit of advice for you, don’t engage Regina in combat, she will use everything in her power to bring you down”. He walked over to the door “Stay safe old friend.”
Opening the door just enough to get through he left Isabeau in his room. He wondered if he would next see her on the field of combat. He went to Emil's door and gave it a rap with his knuckles.
“Apologies for the intrusion, but Regina requests you presence in Sakaala's room, you can come with me if you like?” | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,714 | 1,527 | 50 | 179 | 5,559 | The mage could not wait. He needed to act this very evening - and with any luck destroy the dark sage before she went on the offensive.
Of course, he was fully aware that the possibility existed of things being a little too difficult to handle on his own. He would have let the rogue in, but at the end of the day he didn't trust her. That meant he would have to do it by himself. But do I need to go in the flesh? he asked himself as he looked into the lifeless eyes of a well crafted golem, shrouded in the darkness of the cave. If the plan failed, he would know that more extreme measures would be necessary, and he would be able to tell the Council of the threat. There were too many thing at stake to let the sage roam the world, attempting to undo the last pure order left.
He pulled the yellow talisman out of his pocket and clasped it into the golem's hands. The one valuable that could be at risk, but the mage was quite sure that even if the golem fell, the talisman would be safe from being used against him. After all, the sage could only be recruiting those of dark hearts - she wouldn't be able to touch it and neither could her cronies.
He stared into the lifeless eyes of the golem and began the procedure of possessing it...
~~--o--~~--o--~~--o--~~--o--~~
The mage stood at the bottom of the hill, looking at the mansion with talisman in hand. Well warded against intrusion. Certainly, the sage had prepared herself well. But then, he was a Magi Ritari - and he knew every wall, magical or physical, could be broken.
The trick was, of course, to enter without being immediately detected. He issued a cloaking spell to begin; sufficient against most means of detection, though possibly vulnerable to direct magical probes. But then, there was little reason for him to be sought out.
As he climbed the hill, he noticed a strange feeling; a familiar presence. He identified it with a scowl. The rogue. Whatever her reason for being there, she could damage the mission. If he felt her she could almost certainly detect him back. But it was too late to retreat.
The mage walked low and approached the exterior of the sage's home, talisman in hand. The first thing he would need to do is identify exactly where his target was. He began scanning the windows, straining to find the one he sought. | Known information about characters played by ArenaSnow goes here. Select a hider to see more...
Stuff will change over time, especially following a post where I introduce someone or something.
I use "he" a lot from habit. If I'm using vaguespeech, it could be either way.
Zargon & Company
Zargon's a name known to anyone who has heard of the events of Waeldeshore and is described as being a massive, powerful demon with command over many other demons. He is considered by many academics a massive danger and can use a wide variety of powers; some have claimed he can even see any place in the world he wants, although this is doubtful and most likely just rumor (although more learned academics would say it is a possibility). He dropped off the radar after engaging in a losing battle against the original heros of Waeleshore. Said heros would feel a very familiar presence if his taint is around...
OOC: He was a primary antagonist of the previous Rp. Will he return? Maybe. If he does, just be careful.
Chandon
To original heros in the town of Waeldeshore that witnissed the fall of Artholath, the only mention of him is "Damn you Chandon" as the demon fell. Those with knowledge of ancient lore associate the name Chandon with a demon known for being mysterious, holding some degree of high end power (specifics unknown), and being a destroyer of old knowledge. Guessed to be a high end demon, but not confirmed, even by many demons. Most people simply don't know the name at all. Ancient demon lore says he has the powers of higher level demons, can shapeshift and can teleport. An old lorebook that some sages and high end magic users have old copies of describes him as taking the form of a female with one human blue eye to the left, with the right eye being a shifting mass of grey with a red center. One distinct ability he is said to have is cloaking; concealing his demonic power completely so that others around cannot tell the difference.
OOC: He was mentioned in the last RP. It is possible he will have a presence this time by extension.
The Necromancer
Little is known about him (her?), save the tales of undead swarming towns to the southwest and rumors associating various guessed identities of rogue necromancers and mages with these swarms.
OOC: Not the focus of the roleplay... right now. He's pretty far south and the Jarjestys Magi has already sent mages to combat him, so it's not your fight. Although that isn't to say it couldn't be.
Aldur
It is said that the archangel Aldur from ancient legends came to Ioannes and gave him the Mark of the Third Order, said to be the last angelic blessing given to any mortal. Ioannes was a man who helped save the town of Waeldeshore from destruction at the hands of Zargon who proceeded to revolutionize the governance of Giray and help set the course for a shifting of power. Ioannes then proceeded to vanish 10 years ago... and hasn't been seen since.
OOC: You? Meet an Archangel? It's like asking if you're going to be struck by lightning during the course of the roleplay... hmm. Maybe that wasn't the best comparison in a roleplay with demons and mages and magic.
Kaephael
Kaephael was an angel that according to legend fell to corruption and was banished, and has been wandering the mortal realm since. Another legend says this same angel lost his sword... somewhere, and has been looking for it for thousands of years and cannot return to the angelic realm until he finds it.
OOC: Just legends. Who says I can't put legends into a post that has all my main characters in it?
To be made known. Soon. |
55,715 | 1,527 | 51 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The comfort of bathing did not distract the old lioness, and the flick of one of her golden ears in the direction of the loud knocking alerted her to something being afoot. Before the woman before the door even had chance to speak, the beast had set her powerful hand about the handle of the elvish blade and turned her attention, or a scornful unsettling gaze in truth, toward the source of the sound. A surprise visitor was among one of the last things she wished to contend with, particularly here and now where she laid soaking in a basin of warm water that could barely so much as fit her enormous frame.
"Sakaala," a familiar but muffled voice called out a bit hastily, "could we talk for a bit?"
Uncrossing her feet, for they had rested one upon the other while she bathed, she proved to rise slowly and tread carefully. She ignored the ornately folded night robes presented atop a small shelf as they would not fit something so large as she, instead willing the free hand to take up her own robes while she began toward the door. Shouldering the tattered ebon cloak, changing the heavy blade between hands in doing doing so, she left a trail of dripping water behind her as it rolled off her pelt and in part soaked her clothing. The sound of water trickling in this manner was audible for a moment or so more to the halfling woman as she stood there beyond in the hallway...
... but as quickly as it had come, it disappeared.
Sakaala's fingers finished some obscure gesture and the will of the arcanist herself made itself present. She was as dry as though she had not yet bathed, but the water spots among the floor told a very different tale; something she would handle later, so not as to offend the lady of the house and her servants, but for now, at least she was not soaking. It helped with her demeanor in this moment, giving her some comfort as she donned her leather leggings and the enchanted breastplate as it this was many times better than being both soaking wet and cold all while having her presence requested.
She spoke at last in reply, knowing the other had been listening all along, cinching the leather of her broad belt down about the densely muscled fur of her waist, "I have time, yes."
Settling the blade across her back where it hung freely without scabbard or sheath, she closed the divide between the bath and the rest of her quarters, cognitive to gently shut the door. The illusion of her being less than prepared against attack was a crucial thing to maintain; she had no real reason to trust these people enough with her life yet. Just as so, when the Huntress' large digits set themselves to the door's workings, unlatching the bolt and drawing back, her body, mind and spirit tingled with anticipation, but were met with what she truly expected.
The halfling of earlier, Regina Hills, proved to be looking up to her and her demeanor was... strange. Stranger than before, as this was a different emotion and presentation altogether. As to what it meant, the beast did not know, but it struck her as though something had surprised her - and for worse no less. Sure not to lose her advantage so soon, she instead made no remark on it.
"What was it you wished to speak about?" The warrior-mage said, regal voice rumbling with a underlying growl.
Providing a step back, she opened the doorway further, arm outstretched to provide the visitor entry if she so wished it; the leonine woman clearly did. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,716 | 1,527 | 52 | 276 | 729 | Regina looked up at Sakaala with a small smile of relief. With an unspoken invitation from the Lioness, Regina walked in quickly. She glanced at the water on the floor before shaking her head. "Sorry for interrupting your bath," she said, looking up at her. "Ionathan, Emil and Genevieve might be joining us. I sensed the mind of an intruder. I think she's inside now but it's always been hard to tell exact location with my psionics." She sat at the foot of the bed.
She closed her eyes and focused harder but still couldn't find the intruder. Instead, she decided to Search for other people she knew to be in the house and send them a small warning that there was an intruder. "It feels like a strange woman is in the house. Please keep alert and tell those who have mental blocks. I'm meeting with a select few to hunt her down."
"Are you dressed yet?" she asked, her eyes still closed as her mind continued its search. "I think Ionathan's already on his way. The intruder seems to be inside but there's something blocking me from seeing where she is. Her mind feels familiar too but I can't say who it is." She shook her head again before risking a glance towards Sakaala. She stared at a wall for a few seconds with a small smile, seeming lost in thought. Her eyes showed a mixture of anger and sadness, | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,717 | 1,527 | 53 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Since no one had gone to fetch him or done even the slightest bit to warn him, and since he didn't have the capacity to listen in on the sounds of windows and rainwater on a room which may or may not be anywhere near his own, Ajax simply continued to enjoy the hospitality offered in his own room, gorging himself on the delicacies provided as he took his first bath in a long, long, long time, his battered and beaten robe carelessly discarded on the floor.
Given his size, his admittedly thoughtful host had provided an appropiate container, which was more or less a large, bisected wooden cask likely originally used to clean up animals or multiple people in hospitals and the like and which required enough water to fill that many a dehydrated villager would likely consider killing over. Of course, none of the particulars really bothered him and he just enjoyed a quiet time, reminiscing about the public baths of his finely civilized homeland. | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,718 | 1,527 | 54 | 1,054 | 1,812 | Genevieve had taken every precaution she could think of in the time up to now. It never even dawned on her that one might try to enter her hold without the use of magic. The rogue had been so predictable up until now. And so she continued casting the protective wards over the cottage. She was almost finished when Regina had sent the message that someone was looking to enter, her efforts hastened and were almost even half-assed as she finished the last incantation. But instead of joining her merry band of warriors, she rushed up the stairs that led to the northern towers of the cottage, her gown billowing behind her as she fled. She went straight to her quarters, with only one thing on her mind; her precious stone, the last relic she had called hers. She needed to see it, be sure that it was still where she had left it, that it was still hers. There was no doubt in her mind that whoever the intruder was, they had come to steal her last, precious treasure. They were warriors, the best infact. Which was why she had chosen them. If a threat was to be unveiled, she had no doubt they would protect her.
Isabeau quickly placed her ear on the door, listening as others passed in the hall. The racket that was being made over the intruder nearly made her chuckle. She knew Regina was doing her best to find this intruder by means of her mind powers, and from what Ionathan had said, the rogue had almost dreaded coming face to face with the Halfling. In her time with the magi, she had trained to protect her mind, ideally from threats much greater than the hin had posed. But it seemed to be the perfect chance to see how much she truly learned. Closing her mind off to Regina was the easy part, using her own skill against her though, that took concentration. Isabeau took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She focused on that prodding energy, forcing her voice back through the void. If it worked, only five words would have went through and hit Regina like a ton of bricks. “I am not your enemy.” Yes, it would’ve given her away, but she had to take the chance. She hoped that it, along with Ionathan’s meeting would smooth things over, if even just a little bit.
As soon as the halls had quieted, Isabeau slowly opened the door and slid out of Ionathan’s quarters. She didn’t have much time, but while she was here, she may have as well at least attempted to acquire the second key. She paused for a moment in front of each door before passing, hoping to get a sense for where everyone was. Something had stirred; a doorknob had turned just as she reached the first room. Panicking wasn’t going to do her any good, but she needed some place to hide, and she couldn’t depend on her magic. Assuming that all others had flocked to Regina when she had beckoned for aid, she figured the room would have been empty, and if it was designed anything like Ionathan’s, there were plenty of hiding spaces within.
Her hand grasped the knob, what luck, it was unlocked! She cracked the door open just enough for her form to fit through and softly closed it behind her. The shadow of the doorway concealed her just enough, however any conscious person that paid attention to their surroundings would have known they weren’t alone. Her back resting up against the hard wood, her eyes scanned the room from under her hood. “Shit” she muttered under her breath … | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,719 | 1,527 | 55 | 2,426 | 2,292 | It struck the aging ranger with some surprise that, of all places, the halfling came to her room to inform her of the danger that had befallen the manor rather than trip some ward or alarm to gain the attention of many, if not perhaps all within it. Just as quickly, she questioned why there was no attempt to invade her mind - as this had become a trend - not that she would have easily overcome the aura of mental stability and calm that came with the lioness, but there had previously no lack of time and trying to be had until now. All together this, and at the same time an assailant, brought her to some unease.
The surprise of these combined effects, which then played out upon her face as her worn brow rose its fur, was much more skeptical in appearance than it was in reality; within she really had little idea as to what was or was not even transpiring now. Everything in her wanted to hunt down her enemy, here and now, to eliminate a threat where it potentially was weakest; devoid of many of its magical abilities.
Regardless, the woman's indifference to this event, particularly that she was so idle as to sit on the room's bed rubbed the metaphorical fur the wrong way; Sakaala twitched, the knap of her neck's hairs standing lightly on end. The barrage of things she wanted to say to the psychic, some of which were less than kindly, found themselves withheld as her expression then changed, returning to a more thoughtful and insightful approach. Now was not the time to instruct more tactful efforts.
Before she could speak, the small woman visibly closed her eyes, and the massive bestial woman then shut door as quietly and casually as she could manage; a sly foot, of which supported her enormous weight, sat firm against its path. That door, if there ever was a time to be opened, was not about to find itself so now - not unless a man of immense strength wished it to be, in which case she reasoned the door itself would just splinter to nothingness, and a man of such power was fortunately among her company rather than the enemy's. Then guiding her body so as not to be along the door's path, as her silhouette was anything but small, the warmage carefully drew the blade from its free resting place across her back. Then held in the grasp of her left hand, now the better of the two, it hung quietly - seeming to weigh no more than a quill in the monstrous being's graces despite its scale.
"Regina," She started, eyes never once having left the brown eyed woman across the room despite her careful positioning, "Do tell me which presences come to the door - I would rather not liberate the head of a companion from its place upon their shoulders. All you need do is but nod yes or no."
The padded, worn fingers wrapped tighter about the elven blade's leather grip once she finished speaking; its deadly single edge and angular shape toward its bite meant it struck truer than most upon flesh. Its ominous, almost nonexistent hum when put into motion, made it the sort that favored lethal, clean blows.
Other hand braced, she continued in conversation, hoping that any oncoming eavesdropper would be fooled into thinking no such trap was readied. As simple was it was, to break into the room that was, one would likely not expect immediate danger where there had not been any previously in the doorway itself, or so the huntress' rationale went. Turning the tides of surprise was all she could do until others were gathered, particularly so if the halfling was as ill prepared for a skirmish as she seemed to be sitting there upon the plush bed. Then again, such things could not be known; if a wizard could be idle, content and reading a book, and suddenly gesture into reality some conjured monstrosity, what was to say the psioncally gifted could not do something similar? She had seen her levitate before, and that was all she needed to know.
"As for my bath, this would not be the first time I have been interrupted, but I accept the apology." She said, jowls coming to rest in a confident smile.
There was a slight lull in the conversation as Hills proved to stare off momentarily, and thus the subject was changed. Silence was not a friend in this very moment, so new words and thoughts were brought forth. "The lady of the house, you seemed to know her - well, perhaps even." | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,720 | 1,527 | 56 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax, having just climbed out of the bath after the water had turned a disgusting yellowish-brown, cocked an eyebrow and studied the newcomer under the room's revealing light, looking her up and down without minding his own lack of garments of any sort. He could make out the features of a fairly attractive woman, strong and lithe but with wide hips and meaty thighs. He stood tall as he was with hands on his hips and elbows bowed outwards, though he slighty turned to profile himself, to better put one of his own legs in the path towards his groin. Even the invulnerable have more sensitive areas, and that was a universal weak point of just about every humanoid race.
Still, he towered over the sneak and was clearly well above her weight class. His scarred, leathery hide and powerfully chiseled muscles gleamed and steamed from the recent cleansing, and as Ajax tensed ever so slightly to ready for an attack they bulged with barely contained power. It made for a strong show of poise, and perhaps it would make the intruder think twice about trying to start anything with someone that looked, for all intents and purposes, unstoppable. "Well well well, please come in. I was told there would be no entertainment tonight, but you'll do nicely", he grinned at the woman.
"Or would you happen to be the assassin my clearly unhinged employer talked about? She'd pay handsomely for your head but the psyker kid really wants a piece of you. You know, the tiny one? You really upset her, she even threw a little tantrum". | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,721 | 1,527 | 57 | 2,620 | 2,551 | Stepping out of the bath, Emil had been in the middle of running a towel through his hair when he heard a knock at the door. It was Ionathan, apparently Regina, the tiny halfling mage had requested their presence in the beastwoman's room. "Yes, of course!" Emil called out as he quickly donned a pair of sturdy off-white trousers and his deep blue tunic. Quickly pulling on his boots, Emil paused as he reached for his sword- should he bring it? Would it be in bad taste to carry a weapon to a companion's room? Back in Edessa, the knights always wore dress swords with their finer livery when they were out in public or visiting others- Emil had opted not to bring his finer clothes or dress sword as it appeared to be unnecessary for such a quest. Besides, it would be foolhardy to wear plain cloth and gold and silver encrusted swords when on the treacherous roads.
Deciding not to bring his sword, Emil quickly made his way to the door and opened it. "Sorry to keep you waiting, sir." Emil apologized, "Let us go then."
"Did Regina say what this was all about?" Emil asked. | Name: Emil Erran
Species: Human
Age: 18
Description:
Emil is a young man standing in at about 5'10" in height, with the build of an athlete- or at least one used to continuous physical exertion. While not the pinnacle of strength and endurance, Emil is in good fighting shape, and his body is sinewy and lithe. He has a few scars on his body- though none of them are from combat. His eyes are a deep green, and his blonde hair is typically short and out of the way. His typical attire is a deep blue tunic, with thick trousers, and well worn leather boots and gloves. In combat, he wears a cuirass to protect his upper chest, while still allowing him full range of motion while mounted, reinforced with tough leather, along with armor on his boots, sides, shoulders and forearms.
Personality:
Warm and kind-hearted, Emil is a modest young knight with a strong sense of morality and justice. This level headed knight tries his best to stay brave and rational in the face of hardship and adversity, despite his inexperience. Due to his young age, Emil is rather impressionable, and expresses a desire to learn various skills and tricks from the older veterans, though is often self conscious about his lesser skills when compared to that of the more experienced members of the group. Honest and trustworthy, Emil is compassionate and kind, if a little shy and soft-spoken. Loyal to a fault, Emil is more than willing to risk himself for the sake of others, and goes to great lengths to defend his loved ones. A very down to earth and grounded individual, Emil's calm and generally positive demeanor, while occasionally bordering on naivety, bolsters the spirits of those around him.
Skills/Abilities:
As a young Knight, Emil is well trained in multiple martial skills, but lacks field experience. He has fought alongside his lord-knight, while still a squire and is no stranger to battle, but is not what one would call a veteran. While young, and not as capable of an armsman as the rest of his older peers, Emil possesses worldly knowledge and skills unexpected from one his age, and is knowledgeable of a variety of skills in various fields.
--- Martial Skills ---
Adept Swordsmanship - As the son of a knight, and a knight himself, Emil has received martial training in various fields, and is capable with many weapons, but shows the most promise with a sword. Skilled enough to face down a common soldier or an untrained fighter and coming out no worse for wear, Emil struggles against more hardened and experienced foes.
Journeyman Spearmanship - Along with his swordsmanship, Emil has received training with the spear and lance, though it is clear he shows a preference to the sword. His stance and form are solid, and the spear is by nature, an easy weapon to pick up and use. He lacks the refinement of a master spearman, but can still use it with relative effectiveness.
Journeyman Archery - Alongside his other martial skills, Emil has also been trained in the use of the bow and arrow. He is neither particularly fast, nor particularly accurate with the bow, and is for all intents and purposes, average. He does slightly better with a crossbow, and primarily utilizes this skill for hunting.
Journeyman Horseback Riding - As a knight, Emil is trained on how to ride a horse, take care of a horse, and fight from a horse, though it is clear that he would prefer to do combat while on the ground. Stamina stemming from his youthfulness allows him to ride for hours without considerable exhaustion.
Trained Armor use - Years of training have taught Emil how to quickly don and remove plate armor, and can thus move with more dexterity and quickness than one without training would be able to. He is also well versed on the care of plate armor.
Trained Shield use - Several years of training has shown Emil how to properly brace and use a shield to block and deflect blows. As he is not the largest presence on the battlefield, when faced with larger foes, Emil primarily relies on deflecting and sidestepping enemy blows rather than attempting to completely stop or black oncoming attacks
--- Trade Skills ---
Journeyman Cooking - While not a master chef by any meaning of the word, Emil is resourceful and can cook a variety of meals with what little resources are often available while in the field.
Journeyman Surgery/First Aid - Unable to treat wounds via magic, Emil has been trained and is experienced with treating a variety of minor and moderate wounds, and is even capable of some surgery for more serious wounds. These treatments are not magic, and do not mend wounds instantly- nor do they guarantee the successful mending of wounds, but can serve to stave off death until more experienced doctors or healers can provide aid.
Journeyman Crafting - From tailoring and needlework, to leather-working, Emil, while not particularly amazing at any craftsman's trade, is skilled enough to make field repairs to clothing and armor.
Magic
Emil has no skill or control over magic, though it appears that he may have the affinity for magic. He views magic with suspicion and a small amount of fear, and while he has accepted magic as a facet of life, he is still unnerved by it.
Backstory:
The city of Edessa is a fair sized city-state located along the coast of __(mainland continent neighboring Silver Lily Isles)__. Edessa is a constitutional monarchy led primarily by the King, and a group of senators. It is not a major military power, but is known for its high quality knights and sturdy and reliable trade ships, and also contributed a large portion of its forces Mage-Wars decades ago. Edessa, due to its proximity to the Silver Lily Isles, often trades with the settlements on the Isle, most notably Waeldeshore. Edessa and Waeldeshore have built a rather positive trade relationship over the past two decades, and ships bearing Edessan flags are common in Waeldeshore and vice versa.
Emil, youngest son of the Erran family, comes from a long line of Edessan Knights. Emil, like the rest of his brothers were introduced to the lifestyle of a knight at a young age, and were immersed in their culture from the moment he could walk. The son of a Edessan Knight and his wife, Emil and his brothers were well educated at a young age and were taught manners as well as basic martial skills and knowledges as children. Throughout their childhood, Emil and his brothers would often venture into the city to play with other children. Emil made friends easily, and was known for his gentle and sensitive demeanor, while the rest of his brothers were respected for their various other qualities.
As they Erran children grew older, they were trained in the ways of various weapons, such as the spear and sword, and were trained in horsemanship and riding. After his seventh birthday, Emil was apprenticed to another noble family to serve as a page, where he would begin to further refine horsemanship and swordsmanship as well as learn the intricacies of reading and writing. A naturally perceptive and relatively intelligent child, Emil was treated well by his host family, and learned much under their tutelage.
The Knights of Edessa, or the Edessan Knights as many know them as, are an order of knights based in the city of Edessa. These knights are tasked with serving and protecting the people of Edessa, and often promote humanitarian movements to hunting monsters in the surrounding areas. These stalwart warriors are well known for both their valor and martial skill, despite their relatively small numbers. Every male member of the Erran family had been an Edessan Knight at one point in their life. Emil's brother is among the famed members of the Edessan Knights, and one of the King's personal guards. Each of Emil's brothers has already entered service in the order.
As he turned 14, he became squire to a famed Edessan Knight, where he furthered his training, continuing his work on bladesmanship and horsemanship, as well as learning archery, music, speech, and skills befitting a young knight. Here he learned how to take care of, and maintain armor, how to tend horses and treat wounds. The next several years were difficult, his knight was fair, but strict, and offered him nothing but the most difficult challenges to face.
Now a fresh 18 years old, Emil's journey to become a full fledged knight of Edessan has been completed, and Emil undertakes his first few journeys as his own knight. A message from the Great Sage Genevieve of Waeldeshore gives Emil his first taste of an adventure that he can call his own.
Possessions, Equipment, Weapons:
Father's Sword - A gift given to Emil by his father, upon his recent knighting. The sword is forged from Dwarven Steel- a special dwarven metallurgy technique that results in a tougher, denser, more durable steel. The blade is old and worn from use, but still remains a reliable weapon. A shorter than average bastard sword, it is light and maneuverable enough to be held in one hand, but its two handed grip makes it able to be wielded with two.
Common Spear - A 6 foot pole of ash wood, with a steel tip attached. One of the most common personal weapons in the world, this weapon is easily used, and easily replaced. Able to be wielded with one hand, but most effective with two.
Shortbow & Quiver - A short yew bow meant for hunting. Plain and simple, without any sort of frills, other than leather wrapping around the grip. A wooden and leather quiver contains 20 arrows. Both are typically stored on the outer saddlebags of Emil's horse.
Heater Shield - A mid-sized shield with the Erran family coat of arms emblazoned across it. It is a lightweight metal shield that can be strapped to the forearm and secured with the hand. It has a leather strap that allows it to be slung over the shoulder/worn over the back.
Edessan Half Plate - a cut down suit of plate armor generally utilized by mounted Edessan knights and soldiers. Plates protect major parts of the body, while the rest of the body is protected with tough leather and mail under a tunic. This is to allow light weight, and greater mobility while mounted. The benefits confer to foot combat as well.
Roark, Horse - A well bred, multi-purpose horse ridden by Emil. Roark is a calm, well mannered horse, that doesn't scare easily. Roark wears boiled leather barding(armor) on his face, neck, and body. The barding is lightweight, and can protect Roark from glancing blows but doesn't provide much protection elsewise. Its still better than nothing, Emil argues. Roark also has saddlebags on his sides and behind the saddle.
Roark's saddlebags contain: A pair of leather waterskins, a small pouch with money, a tinderbox, lines and tackle for fishing, a small iron bowl for cooking, a small hatchet for wood gathering, a small knife and whetstone, a length of rope (approx. 30 feet), a spool of fine thread and needle, a roll of clean cloth and bottle of spirits for cleaning and treating wounds, a pouch of herbal ointment, a lantern with several spare candles, a few days worth of provisions for Emil as well as his horse. Behind the saddle is a blanket and spare clothes are wrapped in a roll of canvas. |
55,722 | 1,527 | 58 | 1,153 | 95 | Did Regina say what this was all about?
Ionathan shrugged his shoulders “I’m afraid not, but I doubt she would disturb everyone if it was some minor matter.”
Walking down the hallway Ionathan had to get something off his chest.
“Sir Erran, to avoid any misunderstanding I must say that although I try to live by the rules of chivalry as any knight would, I myself am not a knight , my title of Sir was awarded to me after the Waeldeshore incident, I took no vows to the state or to the crown, so please, just call me Ionathan”. He disliked using his title almost as much as he disliked people recognising the he was a half elf, in his view, he played a small role in the Waeldeshore incident, rallying the guard when the chain of command was broken and yet he got a title while others who contributed more got little more than a thank you.
Upon knocking on the door, it was soon opened by Sakaala. As he entered he saw Regina who probably walked in and sat on the bed without asking.
“I apologise for my halfling friend for her lack of etiquette, her boldness is not meant to irritate I assure you” Ionathan said giving a polite smile, slightly bowing his head in apology, he had expected nothing less from the Halfling who invaded people’s minds.
Turning to Regina he noticed that she was either day dreaming or in deep thought. Not knowing whether or not to grab her attention, Ionathan stood upright hands clasped behind his back and waited for her to acknowledge the presence of himself and Emil. | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,723 | 1,527 | 59 | 276 | 729 | Regina nodded upon hearing a knock at the door, feeling Ionathan's and Emil's minds. With them both there, she finished the last of her thoughts. "We have an intruder. I don't know who they are, where they are or-" Here eyes widened then narrowed quickly. "Isabeau is here. Somehow, she's learned Psionics, which I'm not all too surprised at. I guess she was expecting to have to face off against me." She jumped off the bed, looking at the three of them. "Do either of you know anything?" she asked the men, looking up at them. She then turned to Sakaala. "You look to have strength but what else do you have?" she asked, looking her over. "Magic?" she asked with a shrug. She then looked at the door, having heard their answers, and narrowed her eyes again. "She's hiding again." she sighed. "I think she's still inside but I don't know where. We should get to her before Genevieve if I am to converse with her exactly what she means. Sakaala, Ionathan... Emil, was it?" she asked glancing up at him. "I think we should begin the search." | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,724 | 1,527 | 60 | 1,054 | 1,812 | Exposed cloth clung to her, stained a darker shade from her time out in the rain. Mud caked her boots and began to soil the hardwood floor the longer she remained stapled to the door. She was dressed quite simply, adorned in dark greens and blues, with a large weapon concealed in thick cloth tethered to her back. Throwing knives lined her right thigh and the hilt of a dagger peaked out from the folds of her left boot.
Isabeau paused a moment, taking in the hulk of a man before her. There were a few options, and accessing what sort of person he was would tell her which would be the better play.
She lowered her hood, glancing him over shamelessly. A grin sparked along her face. "I am sure she told you a good many things about me, all of course to serve her own purpose." She said, avoiding Regina all together.
His was a game of strength ... or chicken. But she had no intention of pecking first. Still, risks had to be taken. She move gracefully through the grand room, lavishly decorated, accented in golds and reds. Even the bath oils he was supplied with had to have cost a fortune, she inhaled deeply as she passed him, taking in the hint of lavender. She crossed over to the table, cluttered with enough food to feed a militia.
"I see she hasn't lost her taste..." She muttered, allowing a finger to trail over the edge of the place setting, decorated with fine dinnerware.
She had already invaded his space, interrupted his bath and meal. She could have played the pompous bitch and pressed against him while passing, picked at his food as she came upon the heaping display. But he wasn't her enemy, at least not yet. And it was as clear as day that she was painted as his.
"The way I see it, you have two options." she turned to face him, the jovial look dissipated as quickly as it had sprung. "We can enjoy each others company a moment, I can tell you my side of the story, if it's even something that interests you, or ... , she reached down and slipped the dagger from her boot, casually rotating it within the palm of her hand. "... we can do this the hard way. While you have no reason to trust me, I will tell you, I am not your enemy here, nor do I have any desire to fight you. But the choice is yours."
Short, simple and sweet... enough, despite the lack of niceties and grandiose. There was no nonsense, no bullshit. She needed to establish her position without awaking the sleeping giant that had rested within each tensed muscle. Her eyes sparkled as the candlelight flickered through the room, not with fear or hesitation, but with that of purpose and determination. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,725 | 1,527 | 61 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The door fitting flush against its finely crafted wooden frame, the lioness-woman turned her attention down and unto the two knightly men who had stepped forward into the room; handling the elven blade still at the ready, she remained where she was. Yet, before she could so much as beg a question that now grated at her conscious, Sir Hepburnberg provided his apologies on behalf the small woman, accompanied by a slight bow of the head.
“I apologize for my halfling friend for her lack of etiquette, her boldness is not meant to irritate I assure you.”
The huntress returned the gesture, proving to mimic the motion with a surprising amount of grace; she was not so lacking in the customs of mortals as she may had seemed at first. It was not a surprise, one could reason though - between the scarring that visibly consumed portions of her and her apparent age, she was clearly more than familiar with the works of men and those alike them.
Golden gaze lingering, she proved to turn to look in Regina's direction before she so much as moved. The halfling had been on and about an intruder, which still struck the old warrior as a bit perplexing. The wards should have more than protected the entirety of the house, even from an attack within. Sakaala had no doubt about what they the wards were, in that while she was a sorceress, wizardry was not entirely as distant a cousin to it as mortals often touted; the magic was still of the arcane source, not that god given or the more obscure like those shadow or stranger.
As quickly as the psychic had escalated things before, she did so again now by proclaiming she was certain it was this "Isabeau". It was all the former ranger had come to hear as of this day, and while the source did not seem reliable as it was often in the throes of fierce emotion, that same emotion played itself out as legitimate belief; there was no doubt the halfling woman found herself convinced of what was transpiring and that much was apparent to the company of the two men and monster.
Again before they could so much as respond, she set upon rambling, asking of what they could do, asking of magic, saying the intruder was hiding, then just as quickly proclaiming a search was needed. It was all more than enough, the assault of incoherent train of thought, to draw the anger of the lioness.
"Enough." She said firmly, gritting her teeth and silencing the exchange. While not a forceful growl to her voice, it was a demanding one.
"The entirety of this house is warded by the works of a paranoid wizard. If there were such an intruder, no less this 'Isabeau'," The ebony flesh that lined her jowls flexed as she formed the words of the common tongue, "We would be more than aware, if not perhaps dead ourselves."
The lowering of her sword settled in as it then became idle by her leviathan belt which still bore shrouded, curved, tribal blades upon her hip. Each movement the leonine form made was thoughtful as she tried to outthink the situation at hand; all the details were becoming muddied by the paranoia and emotion. Both could get any aspiring mercenary adventurer killed, and the thought of it drove -
"Diagorides." The huntress uttered, at first to herself, "Diagorides, Hills - did you summon him as well?"
Shaking her head side to side with a lightly snarled exhale, "No, you never mentioned him earlier." She answered her own question as her memory provided insight and wisdom on the matter when she reflected upon it.
"Lady Genevieve can more than handle one 'witch', should she already be there, as any wizard prepared to fight is oft to win." The silvery blade tapped the side of her golden furred legs, of which were like finely detailed works of animal muscle and fur. "There is more at work here, but we are not about to abandon anyone."
"We need find the large man, then we can begin hunting for the source of this matter." Speaking as she was, she looked from Regina to Sir Hepburnberg and then Sir Erran.
It was a simple matter really, as their force only multiplied when together, and a lone intruder now matter how powerful would likely just be overcome by sheer numbers. No less careful to remove any notion of it, the aged huntress did hold legitimate concern for the burly man - not because she thought he would get himself killed if the assassin was present, quite the contrary, but because he was the only other true mercenary here. Someone else with enough wiles and experience in the bloody trade to have the senses needed to avoid pitfalls and dangers that others would ignore... | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,726 | 1,527 | 62 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax continued to grin as the intruder made her way into his current lodgings, and he took stock of the situation while carefully turning to keep her well in his sights, and as she'd stepped closer, well in his reach. No reaction to the barb about the halfling, whether she didn't care or would rather not show it, he couldn't say. If she'd been there to kill them, she would have either fled or tried to murder the nude and unarmed man, foolish as that thought was where he was concerned. No reaction came from the burly man when she moved in and commented on the amenities, but when she reached down, well, that was a different story.
It wasn't anything overtly physical. He didn't lunge towards her or anything of the sort, but it was a slight bend at the knees, a twitch of the hip, a nigh-imperceptible increase on the tension of the shoulders and a harsher locking of the jaw. It was much as when a predator bares its fangs and prepares to pounce, every fiber of their being standing on end with but one purpose. The atmosphere in the room screamed that Ajax was ready and more than capable of punting the now more vulnerable intruder into a smear as she reached for her weapon. He didn't, however, and the moment passed as Isabeau straightened back up to try her hand at bravado.
"Hah! Bold words, I like that, but we both know a fight between us wouldn't be sporting so put your toy away", he said dismissively as he turned his back for a moment to retrieve his undergarments. Shameless as he was, he had still been born a man with some degree of human social norm instilled in him and his nudity had gone on far enough. "You'll excuse my covering up, but I doubt we have time for "enjoying eachother's company". By all means, do make yourself comfortable and tell me about my current employer and this quest. It all sounds to me like any old story, but even the blind could see the woman is downright sinister". | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,727 | 1,527 | 63 | 179 | 5,559 | The mage finally found his prey, detecting her as she by chance came in his direction. He could feel her anywhere - it was a distinct feel. Perhaps not to most, but one with his training had to know differences. The sage was most certainly different. It was time to strike
Immediate scanning of the area revealed rather tight defenses - save one section. A section that appeared quite sloppy in the making. While the rest of the defenses would be nearly impossible to dismantle without revealing himself, he figured he could make his way through that section. He came towards where he felt the weakness to be strongest.
It was a wall, to be exact. Great, now I've got to walk through walls... There were spells for it, of course, but nothing that wouldn't immediately cause a distraction, and certainly nothing non-magical that wouldn't make a ton of noise. At least, that he was good at. He went with the last of his options - not a very good one, but a step up from detection, he reasoned. He walked up to the wall closely, keeping care to not draw averse attention with his cloaking, and half a minute later completed a lengthy incantation to remove a small hole for him to climb into. It was a risk of detection, especially considering the amount of magic presences he felt in the area, but there was no turning back and he had his talisman as a last resort if things went south.
He kept very particular care of his mental defenses and cloaking himself - he noticed at least two magically aware presences and one actively seeking mind. They were unlikely to find much - he hoped - and his mental security would not be an issue, but it still left him apprehensive to be walking in the den of magic users just upstairs. All this he thought as he made his way slowly into the household through the all-too-small entry, and he took every mental precaution to mask himself. He hoped the rogue had not messed matters up - he wouldn't be detected if they weren't aware, but given the lateness of the day when compared with the activeness of the house's occupants - he suspected the worst. Nonetheless, he made his way through the 'cottage' - noting the irony of the name as he observed the furniture alone worth the sum of a wealthy lord's fortune - towards the northern towers. She would no doubt be capable of noticing him even with his cloaking, but he would be too near for her to do anything about it given the fact the others were back on the other side of the building.
He moved with a purpose and a will, ready to come upon the sage's door... | Known information about characters played by ArenaSnow goes here. Select a hider to see more...
Stuff will change over time, especially following a post where I introduce someone or something.
I use "he" a lot from habit. If I'm using vaguespeech, it could be either way.
Zargon & Company
Zargon's a name known to anyone who has heard of the events of Waeldeshore and is described as being a massive, powerful demon with command over many other demons. He is considered by many academics a massive danger and can use a wide variety of powers; some have claimed he can even see any place in the world he wants, although this is doubtful and most likely just rumor (although more learned academics would say it is a possibility). He dropped off the radar after engaging in a losing battle against the original heros of Waeleshore. Said heros would feel a very familiar presence if his taint is around...
OOC: He was a primary antagonist of the previous Rp. Will he return? Maybe. If he does, just be careful.
Chandon
To original heros in the town of Waeldeshore that witnissed the fall of Artholath, the only mention of him is "Damn you Chandon" as the demon fell. Those with knowledge of ancient lore associate the name Chandon with a demon known for being mysterious, holding some degree of high end power (specifics unknown), and being a destroyer of old knowledge. Guessed to be a high end demon, but not confirmed, even by many demons. Most people simply don't know the name at all. Ancient demon lore says he has the powers of higher level demons, can shapeshift and can teleport. An old lorebook that some sages and high end magic users have old copies of describes him as taking the form of a female with one human blue eye to the left, with the right eye being a shifting mass of grey with a red center. One distinct ability he is said to have is cloaking; concealing his demonic power completely so that others around cannot tell the difference.
OOC: He was mentioned in the last RP. It is possible he will have a presence this time by extension.
The Necromancer
Little is known about him (her?), save the tales of undead swarming towns to the southwest and rumors associating various guessed identities of rogue necromancers and mages with these swarms.
OOC: Not the focus of the roleplay... right now. He's pretty far south and the Jarjestys Magi has already sent mages to combat him, so it's not your fight. Although that isn't to say it couldn't be.
Aldur
It is said that the archangel Aldur from ancient legends came to Ioannes and gave him the Mark of the Third Order, said to be the last angelic blessing given to any mortal. Ioannes was a man who helped save the town of Waeldeshore from destruction at the hands of Zargon who proceeded to revolutionize the governance of Giray and help set the course for a shifting of power. Ioannes then proceeded to vanish 10 years ago... and hasn't been seen since.
OOC: You? Meet an Archangel? It's like asking if you're going to be struck by lightning during the course of the roleplay... hmm. Maybe that wasn't the best comparison in a roleplay with demons and mages and magic.
Kaephael
Kaephael was an angel that according to legend fell to corruption and was banished, and has been wandering the mortal realm since. Another legend says this same angel lost his sword... somewhere, and has been looking for it for thousands of years and cannot return to the angelic realm until he finds it.
OOC: Just legends. Who says I can't put legends into a post that has all my main characters in it?
To be made known. Soon. |
55,728 | 1,527 | 64 | 1,054 | 1,812 | Hah! Bold words, I like that, but we both know a fight between us wouldn't be sporting so put your toy away
Her eyes narrowed at him, but only for a moment. She didn't particularly liked being mocked. Typically, those who underestimated her never lasted very long. But there was some truth to his words, and as his massive form turned away from her to fetch his clothing, she saw it etched in every muscle and scar. The way that he moved, the way that he spoke, he certainly had brains, which was more than she could say about most who came up against her. Still, what a marvelous sight it might have been, her heart ached for a real fight.
She lowered herself into a chair, sat at the head of the table that would soon be devoured by food if it were left for too long. As he continued to speak, she reached a hand towards the golden chalice overflowing with large, plump blueberries, savoring the taste of each as she slipped them into her mouth.
"Her story is a very simple one. One of greed and betrayal. She wants the power for her own. She killed Jeltheor for his power and for the fame it would get her. Whether or not she actually has intentions of using the keys to destroy the evil on this plane, I can't say for sure. But I do know it isn't her only goal. She wasn't always like this, it is mostly the work of the artifact which she holds so preciously dear. When I confronted her ... came to her about destroying it ... well, I could show you my scars, but then I would have to get naked." she smirked, shoving another berry between her lips.
She knew it wouldn't be long until a search party was arranged. It wasn't the smartest idea to linger for much longer and at this point, her plan to steal the second artifact from Genevieve was starting to fall apart. But she needed them to know. And if her visit tonight could chip away at Genevieve's plan, it was all worth it.
"I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced though. If she's told you so much, I'm sure she must have mentioned my name. But it is quite unfortunate, I do not know yours."
~~~~~*~~~~~
She moved frantically through her room as she made her way through. Fancy trinkets and clothes were tossed about carelessly as she came to a large wardrobe on the back wall. With the touch of a finger, a secret draw slid open from underneath, exposing a midsized chest. She threw the lid open and let out a long sigh of relief as she saw the stone, safe and sound where she had left it.
It was in that moment that she felt him. She knew there was an intruder on the loose, but she had expected Isabuea .... No, it wasn't her who she felt ... the Magi! Her brows wrinkled, her jaw tensed, her blood boiled with anger and anticipation. He wanted a fight? She would be sure to give him one. Returning the chest to it's proper place, she spoke softly, enchanting the wardrobe then turned to face the door.
Whatever magic she could throw at him may not be a match. But there was one that people often forgot. She had command over everything in that house. Every brick, every layer of wood, even the staff was forced to do her bidding. One word was all it took.
"Open!" she yelled to the large oak door. With force, it burst open, revealing her foe on the other side. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,729 | 1,527 | 65 | 2,782 | 1,198 | The story wasn't particularly exciting or revealing, just like he had figured, and he was still essentially where he was when he agreed to take the quest. Doubting the authenticity of these artifacts and quite convinced his employer was off her rocker. Not like he trusted this one much, but perspective was nice. He had more or less made up his mind to destroy the much sought after object if there was any truth to it, the less magic the world had to suffer through the better. "I've shown you mine so you have to show me yours sometime" Ajax said as he finished wrapping his loincloth around his legs, regarding the showcasing of scars and the necessary nudity of such an act.
"But again, I doubt we've the time. I can't say much about my partners but at least one seems competent enough to organize a search and I'd rather not get into a fight with them so early into the quest. You'd best be leaving". He turned to face her as he motioned towards the window. "Ah yes, Isobel or somesuch I believe?. I am Ajax Diagorides of a land called Erimai". Ajax was not terribly good with names and would often get them wrong, when he didn't do it on purpose to incense someone with an overblown ego. It was hard to tell when he had honestly forgotten and when he was being obnoxious.
"I'm sure we'll be seeing eachother again in less hostile territory". | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,730 | 1,527 | 66 | 1,153 | 95 | Ionathan was just about to tell them about his encounter with Isabeau but Regina began to launch herself into a mixture of questioning and rambling, he was used to this sort of behaviour from criminals and reprobates who would try to bribe and worm there way out of an arrest but not from Regina. He was going to let her get it out of her system when Sakaala cut her off who then analysed the situation. Ionathan said nothing while Sakaala voiced her analysis, he was always brought up through his parents and through training to speak when spoken to.
"We need find the large man, then we can begin hunting for the source of this matter."
Giving a curt nod Ionathan looked at Sakaala’s sword, touching his own hip he knew he nor Emil had a weapon. He had received hand to hand training in both the army and the guard and had the confidence and the skill to take on any pleb but not Isabeau or Genevieve depending on who he would side with.
Looking round at Sakaala, Emil and Regina he hoped he would not come to blows with any of them.
“Very well, lead the way.” | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,731 | 1,527 | 67 | 2,620 | 2,551 | The small halfling- was as always, filled with energy. She spoke of the traitor Isabeau, whom had been mentioned earlier that night, but more importantly that she had entered the home of the sage. The halfling seemed ready for a fight, and asked him and the others if they were prepared. Emil looked at himself rather sheepishly- he had not been anticipating a fight, and as such wore no arms or armor. He felt rather bashful actually, as a warrior he should've been ready for any situation.
Emil was jostled out of his thoughts as the huntress- the beastwoman Sakaala growled for Regina's speech to end. Interrupting her increasingly agitated rambling with solid logic and rational. The Huntress was also the first to realize the massive man Ajax was not with them. The huntress expressed the need to find the large warrior that was Ajax- a sound move. Consolidating their strength would only be better for them should they come across.
"It would be in our best interest to find the fighter Diagorides," Emil agreed. "When you summoned us, I did not anticipate it to be for the purpose of hunting someone down. It appears neither I nor Sir Hepburnberg are properly armed for this task."
With that, the group began to locate Diagorides- their first place to check being his room. Which was, surprisingly easy enough to locate in the house, since the group of them had been housed in relatively close proximity to one another- it would only make sense for guest bedrooms to be in a specific wing of a house if it was built specifically to house large amounts of guests. As they approached they walked down the hallway, Emil was almost certain he heard Diagorides' voice coming from the his room. He couldn't make it out very well, and the footsteps of their group in general made a bit too much noise for him to make out any words. Emil began to slow down, his steps quieting as he did.
"I... I believe I hear voices coming from Diagorides' room." Emil said quietly to the others. | Name: Emil Erran
Species: Human
Age: 18
Description:
Emil is a young man standing in at about 5'10" in height, with the build of an athlete- or at least one used to continuous physical exertion. While not the pinnacle of strength and endurance, Emil is in good fighting shape, and his body is sinewy and lithe. He has a few scars on his body- though none of them are from combat. His eyes are a deep green, and his blonde hair is typically short and out of the way. His typical attire is a deep blue tunic, with thick trousers, and well worn leather boots and gloves. In combat, he wears a cuirass to protect his upper chest, while still allowing him full range of motion while mounted, reinforced with tough leather, along with armor on his boots, sides, shoulders and forearms.
Personality:
Warm and kind-hearted, Emil is a modest young knight with a strong sense of morality and justice. This level headed knight tries his best to stay brave and rational in the face of hardship and adversity, despite his inexperience. Due to his young age, Emil is rather impressionable, and expresses a desire to learn various skills and tricks from the older veterans, though is often self conscious about his lesser skills when compared to that of the more experienced members of the group. Honest and trustworthy, Emil is compassionate and kind, if a little shy and soft-spoken. Loyal to a fault, Emil is more than willing to risk himself for the sake of others, and goes to great lengths to defend his loved ones. A very down to earth and grounded individual, Emil's calm and generally positive demeanor, while occasionally bordering on naivety, bolsters the spirits of those around him.
Skills/Abilities:
As a young Knight, Emil is well trained in multiple martial skills, but lacks field experience. He has fought alongside his lord-knight, while still a squire and is no stranger to battle, but is not what one would call a veteran. While young, and not as capable of an armsman as the rest of his older peers, Emil possesses worldly knowledge and skills unexpected from one his age, and is knowledgeable of a variety of skills in various fields.
--- Martial Skills ---
Adept Swordsmanship - As the son of a knight, and a knight himself, Emil has received martial training in various fields, and is capable with many weapons, but shows the most promise with a sword. Skilled enough to face down a common soldier or an untrained fighter and coming out no worse for wear, Emil struggles against more hardened and experienced foes.
Journeyman Spearmanship - Along with his swordsmanship, Emil has received training with the spear and lance, though it is clear he shows a preference to the sword. His stance and form are solid, and the spear is by nature, an easy weapon to pick up and use. He lacks the refinement of a master spearman, but can still use it with relative effectiveness.
Journeyman Archery - Alongside his other martial skills, Emil has also been trained in the use of the bow and arrow. He is neither particularly fast, nor particularly accurate with the bow, and is for all intents and purposes, average. He does slightly better with a crossbow, and primarily utilizes this skill for hunting.
Journeyman Horseback Riding - As a knight, Emil is trained on how to ride a horse, take care of a horse, and fight from a horse, though it is clear that he would prefer to do combat while on the ground. Stamina stemming from his youthfulness allows him to ride for hours without considerable exhaustion.
Trained Armor use - Years of training have taught Emil how to quickly don and remove plate armor, and can thus move with more dexterity and quickness than one without training would be able to. He is also well versed on the care of plate armor.
Trained Shield use - Several years of training has shown Emil how to properly brace and use a shield to block and deflect blows. As he is not the largest presence on the battlefield, when faced with larger foes, Emil primarily relies on deflecting and sidestepping enemy blows rather than attempting to completely stop or black oncoming attacks
--- Trade Skills ---
Journeyman Cooking - While not a master chef by any meaning of the word, Emil is resourceful and can cook a variety of meals with what little resources are often available while in the field.
Journeyman Surgery/First Aid - Unable to treat wounds via magic, Emil has been trained and is experienced with treating a variety of minor and moderate wounds, and is even capable of some surgery for more serious wounds. These treatments are not magic, and do not mend wounds instantly- nor do they guarantee the successful mending of wounds, but can serve to stave off death until more experienced doctors or healers can provide aid.
Journeyman Crafting - From tailoring and needlework, to leather-working, Emil, while not particularly amazing at any craftsman's trade, is skilled enough to make field repairs to clothing and armor.
Magic
Emil has no skill or control over magic, though it appears that he may have the affinity for magic. He views magic with suspicion and a small amount of fear, and while he has accepted magic as a facet of life, he is still unnerved by it.
Backstory:
The city of Edessa is a fair sized city-state located along the coast of __(mainland continent neighboring Silver Lily Isles)__. Edessa is a constitutional monarchy led primarily by the King, and a group of senators. It is not a major military power, but is known for its high quality knights and sturdy and reliable trade ships, and also contributed a large portion of its forces Mage-Wars decades ago. Edessa, due to its proximity to the Silver Lily Isles, often trades with the settlements on the Isle, most notably Waeldeshore. Edessa and Waeldeshore have built a rather positive trade relationship over the past two decades, and ships bearing Edessan flags are common in Waeldeshore and vice versa.
Emil, youngest son of the Erran family, comes from a long line of Edessan Knights. Emil, like the rest of his brothers were introduced to the lifestyle of a knight at a young age, and were immersed in their culture from the moment he could walk. The son of a Edessan Knight and his wife, Emil and his brothers were well educated at a young age and were taught manners as well as basic martial skills and knowledges as children. Throughout their childhood, Emil and his brothers would often venture into the city to play with other children. Emil made friends easily, and was known for his gentle and sensitive demeanor, while the rest of his brothers were respected for their various other qualities.
As they Erran children grew older, they were trained in the ways of various weapons, such as the spear and sword, and were trained in horsemanship and riding. After his seventh birthday, Emil was apprenticed to another noble family to serve as a page, where he would begin to further refine horsemanship and swordsmanship as well as learn the intricacies of reading and writing. A naturally perceptive and relatively intelligent child, Emil was treated well by his host family, and learned much under their tutelage.
The Knights of Edessa, or the Edessan Knights as many know them as, are an order of knights based in the city of Edessa. These knights are tasked with serving and protecting the people of Edessa, and often promote humanitarian movements to hunting monsters in the surrounding areas. These stalwart warriors are well known for both their valor and martial skill, despite their relatively small numbers. Every male member of the Erran family had been an Edessan Knight at one point in their life. Emil's brother is among the famed members of the Edessan Knights, and one of the King's personal guards. Each of Emil's brothers has already entered service in the order.
As he turned 14, he became squire to a famed Edessan Knight, where he furthered his training, continuing his work on bladesmanship and horsemanship, as well as learning archery, music, speech, and skills befitting a young knight. Here he learned how to take care of, and maintain armor, how to tend horses and treat wounds. The next several years were difficult, his knight was fair, but strict, and offered him nothing but the most difficult challenges to face.
Now a fresh 18 years old, Emil's journey to become a full fledged knight of Edessan has been completed, and Emil undertakes his first few journeys as his own knight. A message from the Great Sage Genevieve of Waeldeshore gives Emil his first taste of an adventure that he can call his own.
Possessions, Equipment, Weapons:
Father's Sword - A gift given to Emil by his father, upon his recent knighting. The sword is forged from Dwarven Steel- a special dwarven metallurgy technique that results in a tougher, denser, more durable steel. The blade is old and worn from use, but still remains a reliable weapon. A shorter than average bastard sword, it is light and maneuverable enough to be held in one hand, but its two handed grip makes it able to be wielded with two.
Common Spear - A 6 foot pole of ash wood, with a steel tip attached. One of the most common personal weapons in the world, this weapon is easily used, and easily replaced. Able to be wielded with one hand, but most effective with two.
Shortbow & Quiver - A short yew bow meant for hunting. Plain and simple, without any sort of frills, other than leather wrapping around the grip. A wooden and leather quiver contains 20 arrows. Both are typically stored on the outer saddlebags of Emil's horse.
Heater Shield - A mid-sized shield with the Erran family coat of arms emblazoned across it. It is a lightweight metal shield that can be strapped to the forearm and secured with the hand. It has a leather strap that allows it to be slung over the shoulder/worn over the back.
Edessan Half Plate - a cut down suit of plate armor generally utilized by mounted Edessan knights and soldiers. Plates protect major parts of the body, while the rest of the body is protected with tough leather and mail under a tunic. This is to allow light weight, and greater mobility while mounted. The benefits confer to foot combat as well.
Roark, Horse - A well bred, multi-purpose horse ridden by Emil. Roark is a calm, well mannered horse, that doesn't scare easily. Roark wears boiled leather barding(armor) on his face, neck, and body. The barding is lightweight, and can protect Roark from glancing blows but doesn't provide much protection elsewise. Its still better than nothing, Emil argues. Roark also has saddlebags on his sides and behind the saddle.
Roark's saddlebags contain: A pair of leather waterskins, a small pouch with money, a tinderbox, lines and tackle for fishing, a small iron bowl for cooking, a small hatchet for wood gathering, a small knife and whetstone, a length of rope (approx. 30 feet), a spool of fine thread and needle, a roll of clean cloth and bottle of spirits for cleaning and treating wounds, a pouch of herbal ointment, a lantern with several spare candles, a few days worth of provisions for Emil as well as his horse. Behind the saddle is a blanket and spare clothes are wrapped in a roll of canvas. |
55,732 | 1,527 | 68 | 276 | 729 | Regina wordlessly pressed her ear to the door. She knew Ajax's mind was blocked from her prying and figured anyone else in their would either have their mind blocked as well or would get really mad at her peeking. She heard the voices clearly enough. "A female voice? It doesn't sound like Genevieve or anyone else in our group." She looked back up at Sakaala with a shrug. "Aren't we the only other girls? I guess he could be talking with one of the maids." She looked back at the door. "Unless any of you can hear better than me, which I guess at least one of you could, I say we interrupt. Unless any of you think otherwise." She raised her hand to knock, waiting only a few seconds for a response. If nobody stopped her, Regina would knock loudly. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,733 | 1,527 | 69 | 1,054 | 1,812 | She dipped her head to the large man, the grin ever still plastered on her face. Finally someone with charm and wit, enough to even rival her own. Nothing much was gained or lost on either side, and she was thankful for that, especially where her own life was concerned. "If what you say is true, then I've no doubt someone will come this way soon enough." She rose from her chair and started towards the window. "Your company was certainly a pleasure, and I suppose I am indebted to you for sparing my life" She smirked, glancing back at him one more time before shoving the long, luxurious red curtains to the side, exposing her way out of the cottage. Her palm spread wide, she reached a hand towards the window, the fibers of the protection spells sparked as her flesh pressed up against the glass. There would be no way out through here. "Dammit" She smoothed her hand over the wall, sifting through thoughts, trying to discern another way out.
She paused a moment, hearing voices in the hallway, just beyond the door. Just then there was a loud knock, Isabeau whipped around with wide eyes, staring deep into fates plan. She giggled softly. "Now either the gods despise me, or they are trying to help me along. I wonder who that could be." There was no time for a plan to work, they knew someone was in the room. "I am sorry my dear, but you'll have to play along in order for this to work."
She swiftly walked towards him, pulling her dagger from her boot once more. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,734 | 1,527 | 70 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax Diagorides bows for no man, and I'd rather actually die before I let anyone think me bested without reason. Move aside and be ready to flee, he said as he positioned himself about half a step away from the window. Slightly profiled, feet about shoulder-width, left leg forward, right back. He took a deep breath and exhaled through the nose as he extended his left arm to measure the distance between himself and the wall. Proper distance is very important when it comes to maximizing impact in a strike, after all. And since he didn't know just how strong the building and its sorceries were, he was going to hit them as hard as he could.
It really did not take long, even with that preamble. How long do you take to practice a punch? Rather than tense up and make his muscles bulge and strain for show and intimidation, Ajax's entire body seemed to relax as he bent back at the waist in a way that would've been far too telegraphed to be practical in an actual fight, placing all of his 300 or so pounds of weight firmly on his right leg. His massive right hand was ready at about jaw height, fingers only half balled up. The looser your body, the faster and snappier the blow. And then, it happened. A savage, wordless warcry, more animal than man, and Ajax let loose.
All of his impossibly powerful muscles collaborated, from the toes up. He pushed off his right leg, transfering his impressive bodyweight to the left as he took half a step forward with it to further set his girth in motion. The waist and torso snapped explosively counterclockwise, propelled by the power generated by the legs and adding to it. The left hand retracted to act as a counterbalance while the right hand, powered by the right shoulder and given a bit of extra oomph with a twist of the elbow and the wrist, launched forward ramrod straight and with untold might, fist clenching only on the moment of impact.
For a split second, Ajax's entire body was as if carved from primordial stone as his every fiber went into this one blow. It was, truth be told, little more than a basic straight right. The second punch you learn in boxing, but still one of the deadliest weapons in its arsenal. An exagerated, telegraphed version, not of much use against a moving, resisting opponent but wholly focused on hitting as hard as possible. And Ajax could hit hard. With a deafening impact, his granite fist crashed against the wall and the spells within and blew them all right out of the building, exploding chunks of masonry to the wind and creating a thick cloud of dust within the room.
The blast knocked down the many tins and trays loaded with food and the jugs and bottles of wine with a chaotic clattering that added to the sudden pandemonium, and depending on the wind the closest townspeople may have well heard the house on the hill suddenly lose a wall. "I'M UNSTOPPABLE!" Ajax roared as a spray of rainwater washed over him. It was most certainly no act as the massive beast of a man roared, lost in the joys of strength. It was time for his companions to burst into the room, and it was time for Isabeau to leave in the commotion. | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,735 | 1,527 | 71 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The two men wisely agreed that the search for their missing member was the most important approach if the intruder was about the premises of the manor. One less body in a skirmish, particularly one so versed in and scarred by conflict, was an advantage the enemy could not be permitted; the sort of thing that would get all others involved killed. This the leonine woman had seen before, that men in their times of greed and want of glittering gold would divide amongst themselves, only to fall prey to the perilous traps of the delve they dared.
"When you summoned us, I did not anticipate it to be for the purpose of hunting someone down. It appears neither I nor Sir Hepburnberg are properly armed for this task."
"If the man Diagorides is any proof, a sword is not what makes one dangerous." The rumbling voice answered denoting her confidence in the two as men of valor and battle to fight even unarmed.
Setting the massiveness of her padded palm to the door, she opened it once more, this time being sure to lead with herself than the rest; she doubted that they without their arms and armor could take a surprise blow. To the huntress' pleasant surprise, nothing drove itself toward the enormous mithral breastplate that encompassed her bust immediately, allowing her to peer down the hall. Each end, to her eye, appeared clear and as mundane as any other night within the Lady Genevieve's manor.
The four moved through the ornately decorated hall, across the sweeping rugs and the stonework below them. The pause that followed tightened the grip around the deadly keened blade that rested within the hands of Sakaala, whose ears twitched and cupped toward the sound of voices - almost reaching out toward them. One was familiar, of no lacking in the brashness associated with it, but another was almost seductive... undoubtedly feminine and different in pattern than that of any others they had heard prior.
"I... I believe I hear voices coming from Diagorides' room." Sir Erran uttered lightly, certain to keep his tone subdued.
Looking across her shrouded shoulder, the tattered ebon robes that made up her appearance, she offered a slight nod without a word.
The look within the battle-torn monster's eyes had changed, as they had become unblinking things of primal focus. That which was still alit with sight, the golden one, was the stare of a killer set to end life just within reach. The blinded eye? It remained as a phantom of days past, bearing the same focus but clearly without the sight that should have accompanied its clouded depths. All of the predatory power that made her people before a living element of this world, as monstrous to men as they were, lived again in the thrill of the prospect that the prey could have strayed to the hunter.
Returning her attention from the brief moment to the door itself, the halfling remarked again, but soon set to place her knuckles rapping to the door.
The end result, wherein the bestial sorceress had set herself ready to enter the room from the safety of the edge of the door, was that the entire building shuddered and tremendous stonework heaved itself apart just beyond. The resulting concussion that resonated throughout the ornate halls as a wall exploded into the courtyard outside was accompanied by the shattering of plates, clatter of metal, scattering of glass and tumbling of further stone. The pleasant news, if there was to be any, was that she heard the triumphant roar of the mercenary fighter, which soon overcame all the chaos and the storm outside which now filled part of the exposed room.
There was but a twitch to the numb hand that bore nothing but its leather and iron adorned gauntlet, not from the eruption of the manor, but born of the sudden rush of cold which filled the veins that were latent within the beast-woman's form. Her jowls had mouthed words, an utterance of old that over the storm of destruction could not be heard by common ears. The time to move was now in the fleeting moments and she did not delay.
With a hastened motion, her action fed by arcane magic, she delivered one clean blow upon the door, which began to fall away from the bite of the sword that carved through it. Following through, returning the hand to the ready and free of the weapon, she turned and drove her enormous form's weight into the elbow; the footwork, despite the enormity of her pawed feet, moved with astounding grace for their size - almost as though she danced upon them. The force that was the huntress body met with the door, of which still shuddered from the unnatural speed of the blow earlier, and the room was exposed in a cascading shower of splintering wood.
The moment of unmatched, mystic alacrity faded and she set herself, blade at the ready into the void without hesitation. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,736 | 1,527 | 72 | 179 | 5,559 | As the door practically exploded outwards, the mage quickly took a few steps back. To be hit by a mere door would not hurt the false structure of his golem, but he did it on reflex. He took a good look at his enemy. 'Young' was a word that could describe the appearance, though the mage knew full well that was a false assumption – a false overlay, like that of a witch. A fair fight would likely be taxing, and he could not rely on the house's size to count in his favor, particularly after the door. He opted to remove most of his cloaking on the spot, a move that would undoubtedly leave a strong imprint that could be detected by any magic user paying attention – but it would spare him resources to settle the matter quickly.
"So you are the corrupted one. I will end this quickly." True to his word, he brought out the talisman and mentally activated it, focusing it in the direction of the mage to channel a thought-spell designed to neutralize her powers and with any luck put her unconscious. A potent talisman indeed, though he did rely on not being interrupted by a counterattack or a demonstration of agility by the sage to escape the worst of the effects.
The spell would have the side effect of filling the entire area around him with invisible crackling energy that to any magic user would shine as a beacon of power. Again, something which he hoped to avoid the side effects of and finish the engagement quickly. He hoped the spikes in magic use he detected in the house along with considerable noise would be shielding enough for him to go undetected, though he rather doubted that. | Known information about characters played by ArenaSnow goes here. Select a hider to see more...
Stuff will change over time, especially following a post where I introduce someone or something.
I use "he" a lot from habit. If I'm using vaguespeech, it could be either way.
Zargon & Company
Zargon's a name known to anyone who has heard of the events of Waeldeshore and is described as being a massive, powerful demon with command over many other demons. He is considered by many academics a massive danger and can use a wide variety of powers; some have claimed he can even see any place in the world he wants, although this is doubtful and most likely just rumor (although more learned academics would say it is a possibility). He dropped off the radar after engaging in a losing battle against the original heros of Waeleshore. Said heros would feel a very familiar presence if his taint is around...
OOC: He was a primary antagonist of the previous Rp. Will he return? Maybe. If he does, just be careful.
Chandon
To original heros in the town of Waeldeshore that witnissed the fall of Artholath, the only mention of him is "Damn you Chandon" as the demon fell. Those with knowledge of ancient lore associate the name Chandon with a demon known for being mysterious, holding some degree of high end power (specifics unknown), and being a destroyer of old knowledge. Guessed to be a high end demon, but not confirmed, even by many demons. Most people simply don't know the name at all. Ancient demon lore says he has the powers of higher level demons, can shapeshift and can teleport. An old lorebook that some sages and high end magic users have old copies of describes him as taking the form of a female with one human blue eye to the left, with the right eye being a shifting mass of grey with a red center. One distinct ability he is said to have is cloaking; concealing his demonic power completely so that others around cannot tell the difference.
OOC: He was mentioned in the last RP. It is possible he will have a presence this time by extension.
The Necromancer
Little is known about him (her?), save the tales of undead swarming towns to the southwest and rumors associating various guessed identities of rogue necromancers and mages with these swarms.
OOC: Not the focus of the roleplay... right now. He's pretty far south and the Jarjestys Magi has already sent mages to combat him, so it's not your fight. Although that isn't to say it couldn't be.
Aldur
It is said that the archangel Aldur from ancient legends came to Ioannes and gave him the Mark of the Third Order, said to be the last angelic blessing given to any mortal. Ioannes was a man who helped save the town of Waeldeshore from destruction at the hands of Zargon who proceeded to revolutionize the governance of Giray and help set the course for a shifting of power. Ioannes then proceeded to vanish 10 years ago... and hasn't been seen since.
OOC: You? Meet an Archangel? It's like asking if you're going to be struck by lightning during the course of the roleplay... hmm. Maybe that wasn't the best comparison in a roleplay with demons and mages and magic.
Kaephael
Kaephael was an angel that according to legend fell to corruption and was banished, and has been wandering the mortal realm since. Another legend says this same angel lost his sword... somewhere, and has been looking for it for thousands of years and cannot return to the angelic realm until he finds it.
OOC: Just legends. Who says I can't put legends into a post that has all my main characters in it?
To be made known. Soon. |
55,737 | 1,527 | 73 | 276 | 729 | Regina knocked loudly, expecting an answer from the man or his guest. However, instead, she heard nothing but what sounded like an explosion going off in the room. She began focusing, read to blast the door off its hinges with her telekinesis, only for her to be distracted by a thunk of a blade against wood. Looking up, she saw Sakaala readying to burst through. She moved quickly to allow the lioness to break down the door without tripping over the halfling before watching her move both terrifyingly and gracefully. Once Sakaala had the door down, Regina ran and jumped up, using her psionic powers to lift herself above the beast woman's shoulders, 4 daggers floating above each hand. She surveyed the area with a frown. "What happened?" she asked, looking at Ajax. "How did the wall break? Do you have explosive muscles?" Seeing the room was, for all intents and purposes, clear, she floated down in front of Sakaala, sliding her daggers in their sheaths. "Seriously, though, what did you do to your wall? And who were you talking to?" | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,738 | 1,527 | 74 | 1,153 | 95 | Ionathan had already stacked up by the door ready to enter and when Sakaala sliced her huge yet elegant sword through the wood and Ionathan went through. His guardsman experience from raiding gang hideouts and smugglers dens kicked in, he scanned the room. Taken aback by the destruction seeing only an overjoyed Ajax marvelling at a large gaping hole in the wall where the rain and wind came through. Did he do this? If his punches did this to wall what would they do to a human head?
Ionathan immediately went to the hole and looked out but the rain and wind made it hard to see any movement outside.
“Room clear” Ionathan said out of instinct as he turned away from the hole, picked up a chair that had been overturned tucking it in to the table to bring some sort of tidiness back to the room and returned to his companions. Waiting for Ajax’s answer to all of Regina's questions. | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,739 | 1,527 | 75 | 2,782 | 1,198 | I missed, Ajax said somewhat disgruntedly at the floating halfling to answer three of the five questions she threw at him in the span of a few seconds. He surpressed a smile as he cleaned out the chunks of wall from his fist and took stock of the chaotic situation around him. He didn't like the airs his employer put on, or really any sorcerer he'd ever met, so he derived a good deal of enjoyment from to the damage to her property. Not to mention his general enjoyment of a good ruckus. In many ways he was as simple a brute as his looks implied.
"We had a disagreement over matters of courtesy", he continued. "I do not take intrusions and challenges lightly". The best lies are the ones that had some truth to them, and the things he had said were quite true. He held no real ill will towards these people, not even the tiny nuisance questioning him, so best they learn some one simple fact early: he was not to be trifled with. | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,740 | 1,527 | 76 | 2,426 | 2,292 | As I can see. Sakaala's heavy voice followed in the wake of the other two who had found their way into the room as well. The blind warrior-arcanist providing a simple smugness to her approval that at least the surprise engagement was driven off, if only for a time. It begged questions that needed answer, like those of as to how the intruder had crossed the enchanted boundary which seemed to be intentionally warded against her doing so, but for the moment the lack of the threat was a welcome change... as was the strongman's destructive might. There was no doubt a use for a man who could reduce masonry to rubble in this world and she better than most was aware of it.
Yet, Regina's habit of being directly in the way continued, to which the enormous leonine form prompted her to step sideways gently with the flat of her sword to the small woman's shoulder seeing as she had returned to the ground, levitating no more and sheathing her collection of knives. It was a motion of caution, one that spoke on an unspoken length; interposing one's self between the bearer of a sword and what could have been another was not a wise tact, at least not for those who intended long lives for themselves.
Stepping beside Hills now, surveying the absolute destruction that was everything from the shattered plates to jagged wood, the Huntress idled no further seeing that the quarry had escaped - for now.
"I have little doubt that the lady is well aware of the now gaping hole in her home," The strong, animal jaws curved as her imposing figure found itself to the gap, a paw-like hand stroking over its rain drenched surface in assessment while more pattered down, "But as her guests it might be wise we bring forth what transpired here before she does."
Shaking off the rainwater of the previously investigating hand, its associated arm soon returned limp beside her body - inanimate once more. It was in her expression, as she turned back to the rest of the collective, the three men and the halfling, that she had more upon her mind but evidently said nothing of it; safe to say, it seemed to be clear upon her scarred features the disappointment that the foe would be allowed to evade. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,741 | 1,527 | 77 | 1,054 | 1,812 | Genevieve stood her ground for the moment, every muscle in her body tensing. It took every bit her of to stall, to try and endure the power shown by the Magi. “What …? Not confident enough in your abilities to fight me like a man?” her strength waned with every word. As the magic left her body, she slumped against the large wardrobe behind her. Her eyes trailed over the talisman a moment, taking in every groove and crack, twist of metal, every hue and hum. “That is an interesting toy you have there, young man. Do you even know the true capabilities of its power?” she growled, her voice growing intense as she fought to keep conscious. Her skin had wrinkled, becoming powder white and spotted with age. Silver sparked through her hair and a hunch added to the woman’s slump.
Her hands fumbled behind her to the tables beside the armoire, trying to find something, anything to use against him. She couldn’t let herself be taken out like this. If she could stall long enough, the others in the house should be able to feel his power, to sense him. She wondered if he was the intruder Regina spoke of … if so, what had taken them so long to get to her?!
Her fingers passed over odds and ends left on the table from previous rituals performed, stones, bones … and then … her only hope. With whatever strength she had left in her, she grabbed the large bell, identical to the one in the dining hall but larger in size, as if used to wake the whole house. She shook it frantically, spouting out some sort of spell... an amplifier of sorts. The bell emitted a loud ring, but as Genevieve spoke, the volume and pitch grew, begging the house to creek and cry, calling to anyone near. It wasn’t long before Genevieve was on the floor, left completely unconscious, and the ringing had stopped. But, not without doing a bit of damage, not without awaking the enchantments that surrounded the intruder. Wood splintered up between him and the crone and the floor groaned beneath his feet. An ominous breeze blew by him, and the surrounding temperature dropped a few degrees or ten. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,742 | 1,527 | 78 | 2,620 | 2,551 | The past few moments had been a blur for Emil. He had followed Ionathan's lead and stacked up against the door, unarmed, but determined to prove his worth to his comrades. There was some shouting, followed by a noise akin to shattering stone and splintering wood. The beast woman, seeing as subtlety was no longer necessary drew her blade and quickly cut down the door, stepping through where the wooden barrier once was. Ionathan quickly entered, followed by Emil, with admittedly a bit more hesitation, and the flying, floating, levitating halfling.
Fast forward to the current time, and Emil found himself staring at Diagorides, half of his body covered in a fine coat of powdered stone and splinters, and a large gaping hole in the room, the pouring rain clawing at the edges of the now open room. The floating halfling had her daggers drawn, and appeared prepared to pepper the enemy with blades, but instead peppered Diagorides with questions, which he answered in a manner that could only be described as succinctly.
"I would have thought a siege weapon had struck the wall, had it not been for the fact that the rubble seems to have gone out of the building instead of inwards." Emil mused aloud, more to himself than the others. Diagorides strength was, immense, to say the least- part of Emil wondered if Diagorides was truly as human as he claimed himself to be. The man's training was no doubt rigorous, but what human was able to break through stone as efficiently as a trebuchet without even scraping his knuckles? Surely the human body had limits, did it not?
Sakaala suggested that they report the intrusion to lady Genevieve, their host. It was a sound plan as any, and Emil was inclined to agree, until he heard the sound of a bell ringing throughout the building- it grew louder and louder as well, as if it had been amplified. The sound appeared to be coming from another portion of the home.
"It appears that someone is trying to get our attention-" Emil spoke, "That, or perhaps another quarry has entered the home."
Emil began making his way back out of the room, and down the hallway towards the source of the ringing- pausing only to wrench a pair of weapons off of some decorations in the hall- a gilded longsword from a suit of armor, and one of two encrusted halberds hung upon the wall above it. Passing the sword to Ionathan, Emil hefted the halberd, testing its weight. The weapon was balanced somewhat poorly- it was a decoration more than it was an implement of death. Despite the fact that the weapon was clearly weighted to hang properly instead of deliver considerable force to the point of its spear or blade of its axe, Emil was confident that he could wield it moderately effectively, at least until they had the chance to retrieve their actual arms and armor. He spun the weapon in his hands, once slowly, hesitantly, as he adjusted himself with the balance of the weapon, and a second time, more swiftly and confidently.
"In the face of Diagorides' destruction of her wall, it is my hope that the lady will not mind us borrowing these ornaments." he said calmly as he advanced towards the source of the bell. | Name: Emil Erran
Species: Human
Age: 18
Description:
Emil is a young man standing in at about 5'10" in height, with the build of an athlete- or at least one used to continuous physical exertion. While not the pinnacle of strength and endurance, Emil is in good fighting shape, and his body is sinewy and lithe. He has a few scars on his body- though none of them are from combat. His eyes are a deep green, and his blonde hair is typically short and out of the way. His typical attire is a deep blue tunic, with thick trousers, and well worn leather boots and gloves. In combat, he wears a cuirass to protect his upper chest, while still allowing him full range of motion while mounted, reinforced with tough leather, along with armor on his boots, sides, shoulders and forearms.
Personality:
Warm and kind-hearted, Emil is a modest young knight with a strong sense of morality and justice. This level headed knight tries his best to stay brave and rational in the face of hardship and adversity, despite his inexperience. Due to his young age, Emil is rather impressionable, and expresses a desire to learn various skills and tricks from the older veterans, though is often self conscious about his lesser skills when compared to that of the more experienced members of the group. Honest and trustworthy, Emil is compassionate and kind, if a little shy and soft-spoken. Loyal to a fault, Emil is more than willing to risk himself for the sake of others, and goes to great lengths to defend his loved ones. A very down to earth and grounded individual, Emil's calm and generally positive demeanor, while occasionally bordering on naivety, bolsters the spirits of those around him.
Skills/Abilities:
As a young Knight, Emil is well trained in multiple martial skills, but lacks field experience. He has fought alongside his lord-knight, while still a squire and is no stranger to battle, but is not what one would call a veteran. While young, and not as capable of an armsman as the rest of his older peers, Emil possesses worldly knowledge and skills unexpected from one his age, and is knowledgeable of a variety of skills in various fields.
--- Martial Skills ---
Adept Swordsmanship - As the son of a knight, and a knight himself, Emil has received martial training in various fields, and is capable with many weapons, but shows the most promise with a sword. Skilled enough to face down a common soldier or an untrained fighter and coming out no worse for wear, Emil struggles against more hardened and experienced foes.
Journeyman Spearmanship - Along with his swordsmanship, Emil has received training with the spear and lance, though it is clear he shows a preference to the sword. His stance and form are solid, and the spear is by nature, an easy weapon to pick up and use. He lacks the refinement of a master spearman, but can still use it with relative effectiveness.
Journeyman Archery - Alongside his other martial skills, Emil has also been trained in the use of the bow and arrow. He is neither particularly fast, nor particularly accurate with the bow, and is for all intents and purposes, average. He does slightly better with a crossbow, and primarily utilizes this skill for hunting.
Journeyman Horseback Riding - As a knight, Emil is trained on how to ride a horse, take care of a horse, and fight from a horse, though it is clear that he would prefer to do combat while on the ground. Stamina stemming from his youthfulness allows him to ride for hours without considerable exhaustion.
Trained Armor use - Years of training have taught Emil how to quickly don and remove plate armor, and can thus move with more dexterity and quickness than one without training would be able to. He is also well versed on the care of plate armor.
Trained Shield use - Several years of training has shown Emil how to properly brace and use a shield to block and deflect blows. As he is not the largest presence on the battlefield, when faced with larger foes, Emil primarily relies on deflecting and sidestepping enemy blows rather than attempting to completely stop or black oncoming attacks
--- Trade Skills ---
Journeyman Cooking - While not a master chef by any meaning of the word, Emil is resourceful and can cook a variety of meals with what little resources are often available while in the field.
Journeyman Surgery/First Aid - Unable to treat wounds via magic, Emil has been trained and is experienced with treating a variety of minor and moderate wounds, and is even capable of some surgery for more serious wounds. These treatments are not magic, and do not mend wounds instantly- nor do they guarantee the successful mending of wounds, but can serve to stave off death until more experienced doctors or healers can provide aid.
Journeyman Crafting - From tailoring and needlework, to leather-working, Emil, while not particularly amazing at any craftsman's trade, is skilled enough to make field repairs to clothing and armor.
Magic
Emil has no skill or control over magic, though it appears that he may have the affinity for magic. He views magic with suspicion and a small amount of fear, and while he has accepted magic as a facet of life, he is still unnerved by it.
Backstory:
The city of Edessa is a fair sized city-state located along the coast of __(mainland continent neighboring Silver Lily Isles)__. Edessa is a constitutional monarchy led primarily by the King, and a group of senators. It is not a major military power, but is known for its high quality knights and sturdy and reliable trade ships, and also contributed a large portion of its forces Mage-Wars decades ago. Edessa, due to its proximity to the Silver Lily Isles, often trades with the settlements on the Isle, most notably Waeldeshore. Edessa and Waeldeshore have built a rather positive trade relationship over the past two decades, and ships bearing Edessan flags are common in Waeldeshore and vice versa.
Emil, youngest son of the Erran family, comes from a long line of Edessan Knights. Emil, like the rest of his brothers were introduced to the lifestyle of a knight at a young age, and were immersed in their culture from the moment he could walk. The son of a Edessan Knight and his wife, Emil and his brothers were well educated at a young age and were taught manners as well as basic martial skills and knowledges as children. Throughout their childhood, Emil and his brothers would often venture into the city to play with other children. Emil made friends easily, and was known for his gentle and sensitive demeanor, while the rest of his brothers were respected for their various other qualities.
As they Erran children grew older, they were trained in the ways of various weapons, such as the spear and sword, and were trained in horsemanship and riding. After his seventh birthday, Emil was apprenticed to another noble family to serve as a page, where he would begin to further refine horsemanship and swordsmanship as well as learn the intricacies of reading and writing. A naturally perceptive and relatively intelligent child, Emil was treated well by his host family, and learned much under their tutelage.
The Knights of Edessa, or the Edessan Knights as many know them as, are an order of knights based in the city of Edessa. These knights are tasked with serving and protecting the people of Edessa, and often promote humanitarian movements to hunting monsters in the surrounding areas. These stalwart warriors are well known for both their valor and martial skill, despite their relatively small numbers. Every male member of the Erran family had been an Edessan Knight at one point in their life. Emil's brother is among the famed members of the Edessan Knights, and one of the King's personal guards. Each of Emil's brothers has already entered service in the order.
As he turned 14, he became squire to a famed Edessan Knight, where he furthered his training, continuing his work on bladesmanship and horsemanship, as well as learning archery, music, speech, and skills befitting a young knight. Here he learned how to take care of, and maintain armor, how to tend horses and treat wounds. The next several years were difficult, his knight was fair, but strict, and offered him nothing but the most difficult challenges to face.
Now a fresh 18 years old, Emil's journey to become a full fledged knight of Edessan has been completed, and Emil undertakes his first few journeys as his own knight. A message from the Great Sage Genevieve of Waeldeshore gives Emil his first taste of an adventure that he can call his own.
Possessions, Equipment, Weapons:
Father's Sword - A gift given to Emil by his father, upon his recent knighting. The sword is forged from Dwarven Steel- a special dwarven metallurgy technique that results in a tougher, denser, more durable steel. The blade is old and worn from use, but still remains a reliable weapon. A shorter than average bastard sword, it is light and maneuverable enough to be held in one hand, but its two handed grip makes it able to be wielded with two.
Common Spear - A 6 foot pole of ash wood, with a steel tip attached. One of the most common personal weapons in the world, this weapon is easily used, and easily replaced. Able to be wielded with one hand, but most effective with two.
Shortbow & Quiver - A short yew bow meant for hunting. Plain and simple, without any sort of frills, other than leather wrapping around the grip. A wooden and leather quiver contains 20 arrows. Both are typically stored on the outer saddlebags of Emil's horse.
Heater Shield - A mid-sized shield with the Erran family coat of arms emblazoned across it. It is a lightweight metal shield that can be strapped to the forearm and secured with the hand. It has a leather strap that allows it to be slung over the shoulder/worn over the back.
Edessan Half Plate - a cut down suit of plate armor generally utilized by mounted Edessan knights and soldiers. Plates protect major parts of the body, while the rest of the body is protected with tough leather and mail under a tunic. This is to allow light weight, and greater mobility while mounted. The benefits confer to foot combat as well.
Roark, Horse - A well bred, multi-purpose horse ridden by Emil. Roark is a calm, well mannered horse, that doesn't scare easily. Roark wears boiled leather barding(armor) on his face, neck, and body. The barding is lightweight, and can protect Roark from glancing blows but doesn't provide much protection elsewise. Its still better than nothing, Emil argues. Roark also has saddlebags on his sides and behind the saddle.
Roark's saddlebags contain: A pair of leather waterskins, a small pouch with money, a tinderbox, lines and tackle for fishing, a small iron bowl for cooking, a small hatchet for wood gathering, a small knife and whetstone, a length of rope (approx. 30 feet), a spool of fine thread and needle, a roll of clean cloth and bottle of spirits for cleaning and treating wounds, a pouch of herbal ointment, a lantern with several spare candles, a few days worth of provisions for Emil as well as his horse. Behind the saddle is a blanket and spare clothes are wrapped in a roll of canvas. |
55,743 | 1,527 | 79 | 1,153 | 95 | There was a short pause after Ajax made his reply that made Ionathan smirk, the blunt and evasive response was made by criminals in interrogation and Ionathan knew that they would get very little information out of him through persuasion. Just when he thought that the situation was under control and that he could soon get back to his room and finish off his now cold chicken breast, a bell began to ring. As the bell got louder and louder Ionathan winced, Genevieve either really wanted to see her young maid, or she was using the bell as an alarm to warn others.
"It appears that someone is trying to get our attention-that, or perhaps another quarry has entered the home."
A nod from Ionathan showed his approval, despite his youth and inexperience Emil had shown he can keep a cool head making a solid judgment even as these odd events were happening around him.
Ionathan followed Emil out of the room guessing that he was heading towards the room where the bell was tolling but stopped by some suits of armour, borrowed their weapons and gave one to Ionathan. Bowing his head in acceptance of the offering he held it firmly in his hand. Heavier than it should be but sharper than he expected, Ionathan wondered if Genevieve had the sword sharp so that she could animate the suits of armour into killing automatons.
With the sword in his hand he made a figure of eight with his wrist, then raised the sword in salute. With a nod of satisfaction, Ionathan then turned his head.
"Regina. Can you sense anything?" | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,744 | 1,527 | 80 | 276 | 729 | Regina eyed Ajax with a tilted head. She opened her mouth to ask another question but felt a blade touch her shoulder. Seeing what Sakaala wanted, she stepped to the side, trying to remember the question she was about to ask. Then there was a loud noise that hurt her ears a bit.
The halfling watched everyone begin running about with the ringing of the bell. She began running behind them, despite how much faster she could move with her psionics. After her received a weapon, Ionathan asked Regina a question. She tilted her head before closing her eyes in concentration. "I see where Genevieve is but something feels off. We need to hurry." She began running again, using her psionics to increase her speed and lead the group to where she sensed Genevieve.
It didn't take long for her to arrive at the scene. She slid to a stop behind the intruder, all her daggers floating around her, each one aimed at the man's vitals. "You have 10 seconds to tell us why you're here or you die." she said as menacingly as she could, hoping the figures of Emil, Ionathan, Sakaala and Ajax were still behind her to intimidate the man more. She held up both hands, beginning to slowly count down on them, waiting for an answer. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,745 | 1,527 | 81 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The sounding of the bell proved to be as alarming as one could imagine in that it was truly both surprising and unexpected, but moreover that it was magical and clearly so; unlikely was it that Lady Genevieve would so much as use an enchanted bell without being under some form of sufficient duress. While there was doubt the would-be assassin would have headed off, and so quickly no less, to meet the true target, it was more credible that another might have been present.
Wrapping her palm about the frame of the splintered door, her attention settled upon the strange ambiance that seemed to rise above the bell's sounding. It was as though there was an uncanny silence for a moment as the sorceress looked on, eyes fixated upon the length of the hall, the ringing dulled and distant; a presence, some sort of magical aura or energy just felt to tingle the air. The sort of thing only one schooled in spellcraft would know... or someone with enchanted blood as her, but it all did not sit well in her golden furred breast; something was strange, and it was not the bell. Her assessment did not linger longer, for the younger of the two knighted men stepped behind her and down the hall, swift to arm himself thereafter and turn another weapon over to his superior.
Sakaala stepped behind them with a cool exhale, mind attempting to ready her body to act with unmatched alacrity, drawn from a font of power deep within, driven by presence and force of personality.
"In the face of Diagorides' destruction of her wall, it is my hope that the lady will not mind us borrowing these ornaments."
The lioness' regal voice responded, "I have reason to believe she has other concerns now."
Of the collective this was the general consensus, to which Sir Hepburnberg inquired of the small woman after; the half-blooded man's dark green eyes had seemed to narrow earlier, and his lips pull in a concealed smirk, but now? Having finished assessing the weight of the gilded sword in his hand with a practiced manner, his attention seemed elsewhere.
But their answer was short lived...
"I see where Genevieve is but something feels off. We need to hurry."
The moment the halfling opened her eyes once more, she was off, increasing her rate far beyond what the rest were prepared for. The huntress snarled lightly, her jowls quivering about the edge of her canines; the small one's brashness was going to get them killed, if not just her. It was one thing to work with prideful men of bloody trade who all thought themselves the best swordsmen in the world, as she had in her past days, yet it was another entirely to contend with a psychic who seemed ruled by her personal involvement. Not that emotion should be devoid of course - the aged ranger knew this better than anyone else - but it was a tool one needed to employ with care.
Setting upon Sir Erran's shoulder a partially gloved palm, her stance asked the pair of knights for a moment more - awaiting on Diagorides, clearly. She anticipated their surprise, even perhaps the questioning, so she replied before there was further wasted discussion as to what she was doing.
"Once he is with us," Her growled words and tenseness of her enormous paw-like hand eased as she continued, eyes still set upon the halfling who had bolted ahead down the hall, "I will imbue us with a rapidity you might not know men had."
Withdrawing from the youthful knight's robed shoulder, those same ebony padded fingers began gesturing in the air in a slowed motion that somehow blurred all the same. The lion-woman - the monstrous being among them - called upon some form of magical power, holding it at the ready with its roiling aura shuddering silently about her numb hand and arm. She mouthed strange, unfamiliar words, but even in her silence there seemed to be power latent in them.
For the Huntress now, all she simply needed to do was speak them aloud. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,746 | 1,527 | 82 | 276 | 729 | Apr 2016 12:04 2 yrs ago | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,747 | 1,527 | 83 | 179 | 5,559 | The mage expected a last pitch attempt to eliminate him, although he did have to admit the bell system was quite intricate. As the floor ruined behind him and stability dropped below him, he made a reflexive jump to the doorway just as a hole opened to swallow him whole.
He turned as a halfling arrived. A quick scan indicated there would be more opponents following the halfling, and ones of magical affinity. The opponent before him was obviously quite magic capable, though he could not pin the exact branch down. Freeform? he wondered. He steeled himself as the halfling raised and prepared a set of daggers and made her threat.
"So you are the slave of the corrupt one," he mused in an overly condescending tone. "I will tell you in two - remove your dark master." There would be more enemies to follow, and while the golem form would not fall to pointy objects, he would rather maintain the illusion; experienced hands would know how to deal with golem constructs. He sent a gust of concentrated wind mostly aimed at knocking the knives out of the air as he turned to walk in the room. He was sent flying when the door made impact with his rear, sending him sprawling and temporarily stunning him before opening again to accept any who would take advantage of the short window of opportunity. | Known information about characters played by ArenaSnow goes here. Select a hider to see more...
Stuff will change over time, especially following a post where I introduce someone or something.
I use "he" a lot from habit. If I'm using vaguespeech, it could be either way.
Zargon & Company
Zargon's a name known to anyone who has heard of the events of Waeldeshore and is described as being a massive, powerful demon with command over many other demons. He is considered by many academics a massive danger and can use a wide variety of powers; some have claimed he can even see any place in the world he wants, although this is doubtful and most likely just rumor (although more learned academics would say it is a possibility). He dropped off the radar after engaging in a losing battle against the original heros of Waeleshore. Said heros would feel a very familiar presence if his taint is around...
OOC: He was a primary antagonist of the previous Rp. Will he return? Maybe. If he does, just be careful.
Chandon
To original heros in the town of Waeldeshore that witnissed the fall of Artholath, the only mention of him is "Damn you Chandon" as the demon fell. Those with knowledge of ancient lore associate the name Chandon with a demon known for being mysterious, holding some degree of high end power (specifics unknown), and being a destroyer of old knowledge. Guessed to be a high end demon, but not confirmed, even by many demons. Most people simply don't know the name at all. Ancient demon lore says he has the powers of higher level demons, can shapeshift and can teleport. An old lorebook that some sages and high end magic users have old copies of describes him as taking the form of a female with one human blue eye to the left, with the right eye being a shifting mass of grey with a red center. One distinct ability he is said to have is cloaking; concealing his demonic power completely so that others around cannot tell the difference.
OOC: He was mentioned in the last RP. It is possible he will have a presence this time by extension.
The Necromancer
Little is known about him (her?), save the tales of undead swarming towns to the southwest and rumors associating various guessed identities of rogue necromancers and mages with these swarms.
OOC: Not the focus of the roleplay... right now. He's pretty far south and the Jarjestys Magi has already sent mages to combat him, so it's not your fight. Although that isn't to say it couldn't be.
Aldur
It is said that the archangel Aldur from ancient legends came to Ioannes and gave him the Mark of the Third Order, said to be the last angelic blessing given to any mortal. Ioannes was a man who helped save the town of Waeldeshore from destruction at the hands of Zargon who proceeded to revolutionize the governance of Giray and help set the course for a shifting of power. Ioannes then proceeded to vanish 10 years ago... and hasn't been seen since.
OOC: You? Meet an Archangel? It's like asking if you're going to be struck by lightning during the course of the roleplay... hmm. Maybe that wasn't the best comparison in a roleplay with demons and mages and magic.
Kaephael
Kaephael was an angel that according to legend fell to corruption and was banished, and has been wandering the mortal realm since. Another legend says this same angel lost his sword... somewhere, and has been looking for it for thousands of years and cannot return to the angelic realm until he finds it.
OOC: Just legends. Who says I can't put legends into a post that has all my main characters in it?
To be made known. Soon. |
55,748 | 1,527 | 84 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Before Ajax could respond to the beastwoman or enjoy the obvious shock his might had caused, his attention was drawn towards the ringing of the bell, unnaturally amplified that it blasted seemingly across the entire house. Even the mess in Ajax's floor seemed to vibrate from the sound, though whether it carried out through the hole in the wall or not with a storm going on, it was hard to say. Something was amiss, obviously, and he wondered whether the first intruder had been but a diversion. If so, it had been a good play. If not, things were getting more interesting by the second.
Ajax, more out of curiosity than any real concern for the owner of the mansion, trotted right out into the hallway with the others, absolutely not surprised that the tiny one rushed headfirst into an unknown danger while leaving behind two knights arming themselves, a beastly swordswoman and a man that had just exploded a wall. He would not miss her if she got herself killed. Ajax was ready to follow, but stopped in his tracks as Sakaala paused to summon arcane forces. He grinned at them and shook his head before bumping his chest with his left. "Don't waste your time, I cannot accept something I have not gained. Go now, I'll follow".
It was not empty pride or anything of the sort but a very real, accurate statement. His body had been honed and forged into a lethal weapon head to toe, but there is no power without sacrifice and this was one of his. Just as it rejected harm, it also rejected aid. Healing magics would not work on him and attempts to enhance his abilities were rendered nil. He could recover even from grievous injuries given time, but very little actually helped to speed up the process. As his companions sped off with magical haste, Ajax flagged down one of the few maids that had burst into activity around him like a colony of ants.
"You wouldn't happen to know the shortcut to the mistress' chambers would you?". It was worth a shot. What kind of enchanted mansion didn't have hidden passageways? | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,749 | 1,527 | 85 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The thump of the man's might hand upon his chest and his powerful, sure grin keened the monstrous mage's interest as her hand stayed the magic that had welled up from within her, but there would be time yet for her questions... just not now. The reply to his statement was but a steady nod, her fierce eye upon the man then returned to its focus upon Regina who had come to a halt down the hall. Whatever was transpiring there, the aging warrior and her knightly companions were about to encounter it as well.
"Hathaam." She spoke aloud amidst the noise of the servants who seemed to be whipped into a frenzy. The very air stilled around Sakaala, Sir Hepburnberg and Sir Erran, or so it seemed as her arcane invocation altered the fundamentals of reality for them. This manipulation of magic was no small feat, but this was the form the sorceress wielded most comfortably; aspects of its mystic power had become innate to her with time, such as her uncanny speed and almost precognitive ability.
As she moved, taking but one step even to the other men she moved like living lightning - to an observer unaffected, she seemed to blur with motion. Blade at an angle behind her, its grip firmly within her grasp, the enormous musculature of her savage form leaned into the movement with her free hand outstretched lightly. She had more than readied her mind and body, as while the forceful gust of wind waked around her having passed the halfling, rustling her tattered half-cloak and streamlining her golden fur to her body, she narrowed her attention upon the hooded man who staggered from the blow of a slamming door.
An open target as any, she unleashed an open palmed strike toward the center of his figure, hoping the surprise and momentum would wreck havoc upon him. Fingers curled and curved inward, the bite of the vicious elven blade in the other hand was not far behind if he so much as resisted in the slightest; the lioness was not about to kill the man unless need be, but she had a suspicion as she bore down upon him that injury to subdue him would not be what was called for. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,750 | 1,527 | 86 | 1,054 | 1,812 | You wouldn't happen to know the shortcut to the mistress' chambers would you?. It was worth a shot. What kind of enchanted mansion didn't have hidden passageways?
She was young, like the rest of them, even matching in the mousy brown hair pulled back into a loose braid. Her big brown eyes set against the hulking man, a crinkle rose in her brow. She could get the whip for this, if it came to it ... if she survived ... and if she didn't... well... Without any words, the girl nodded and headed back towards the guest quarters. She led him to the grand hallway where they had all once stood, even his door was still ajar, the pitter patter of rain drops echoed through the void that was this side of the cottage.
On the wall, just across from one of the doors was an odd tapestry. It was gold and gaudy just like the rest of them, but there was a pattern within the cloth. The girl waved her hand over the tapestry and like magic, a door knob appeared. From the folds of her dress, she pulled a key and quickly unlocked the door. Stairs led down to a dank and narrow hallway and a rotting stench seeped from every shadowy corner. Yanking a torch from the wall, she handed it to him along with the key. "This will lead you directly to her room, this key will give you access to anything you need. She must be stopped. Now go!"
~~~~~ * ~~~~~
She wasn't ready for the blow to the wall, despite his warning to step aside, and she clearly wasn't ready for the power in his swing as the wall collapsed beneath the force of the punch. Stone and wood splintered everywhere and the floor grumbled beneath her feet. Such a movement might have easily knocked her into the shadow realm. It had indeed become that easy for such a thing to happen. But she didn't. It was her chance at escape, but there was something inside her edging her to stay. She wanted desperately to see them all, tell them all to leave now. This was not their battle, and only more blood would be shed should they get involved. She didn't have much time to think about anything thought. A loud swing knocked at the door was her cue to leave, and so she did. Quickly scaling the stone siding of the building, she made her way back down to the muddy pavement below.
Curses slipped from her mouth as she trudged through the rain, rounding the side of the house to the front. And then she felt him. "That dirty rat!", she spat, "He could've at least told me .... " But the more she thought about it, the more she understood. She let out a heavy sigh before tracing his steps into the cottage. "May the gods see me struck down before he lays a hand on any one of them ... before this gets too out of hand" | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,751 | 1,527 | 87 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax fought down a self-congratulatory "hah!" when the maid looked him up and down then led him towards the secret passageway he had requested, not without some clear reluctance. One did not enjoy a long life in Ajax's line of work without picking up on a few things, such as the habits of spellcasters or people with enough money to hire some. They loved their little rat holes, they did. Ajax was left with a foul-smelling tunnel, a key in hand and some more questions. Questions he was going to ask, because his presence was mostly likely not needed and he could likely make there in short order as well now.
"She must be stopped? Your boss? You know I've been hired by her, right? Have to say, I wasn't expecting you to say much of anything, let alone that. Do explain, I begin to tire of all this blatant intrigue". | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,752 | 1,527 | 88 | 2,620 | 2,551 | While Emil watched the little halfling take off down the hall, he found himself stopped by the beast-woman. Again, he instinctively stiffened as the monstrous woman placed her palm on his shoulder. He made a mental note to apologize to Sakaala later, he knew that she should trust the warrior, as they had pledged themselves to the same cause, and his constant unease around her did nothing for their sense of unit cohesion. Sakaala asked Emil and Ionathan to pause, stating that she would grant them power as soon as the fighter Ajax arrived- to which he promptly walked by, and declined.
Sakaala spoke a word of power, and then the air seemed to still around them, and it took a moment for Emil to realize what had just happened. While he felt nothing in himself changed, he noticed a sudden deliberateness in the motion of everything around him- people moving, even the air around them. Emil watched as Sakaala took off in the direction the halfling ran. Emil nodded to himself and followed suit- chasing after the beast-woman, his halberd at the ready.
The scene he entered was strange. There had been a mage threatening their host- who had been seemingly subdued by the combination of Sakaala, the halfling, and Ajax- who had somehow caught up to them through means Emil would ask about later. As of now, the mage was on the ground with a sword pointed at him wielded by Sakaala. Emil contended himself with staying in the background of the following scene, paying attention to his surroundings in case the mage tried to play some sort of trickery on them. | Name: Emil Erran
Species: Human
Age: 18
Description:
Emil is a young man standing in at about 5'10" in height, with the build of an athlete- or at least one used to continuous physical exertion. While not the pinnacle of strength and endurance, Emil is in good fighting shape, and his body is sinewy and lithe. He has a few scars on his body- though none of them are from combat. His eyes are a deep green, and his blonde hair is typically short and out of the way. His typical attire is a deep blue tunic, with thick trousers, and well worn leather boots and gloves. In combat, he wears a cuirass to protect his upper chest, while still allowing him full range of motion while mounted, reinforced with tough leather, along with armor on his boots, sides, shoulders and forearms.
Personality:
Warm and kind-hearted, Emil is a modest young knight with a strong sense of morality and justice. This level headed knight tries his best to stay brave and rational in the face of hardship and adversity, despite his inexperience. Due to his young age, Emil is rather impressionable, and expresses a desire to learn various skills and tricks from the older veterans, though is often self conscious about his lesser skills when compared to that of the more experienced members of the group. Honest and trustworthy, Emil is compassionate and kind, if a little shy and soft-spoken. Loyal to a fault, Emil is more than willing to risk himself for the sake of others, and goes to great lengths to defend his loved ones. A very down to earth and grounded individual, Emil's calm and generally positive demeanor, while occasionally bordering on naivety, bolsters the spirits of those around him.
Skills/Abilities:
As a young Knight, Emil is well trained in multiple martial skills, but lacks field experience. He has fought alongside his lord-knight, while still a squire and is no stranger to battle, but is not what one would call a veteran. While young, and not as capable of an armsman as the rest of his older peers, Emil possesses worldly knowledge and skills unexpected from one his age, and is knowledgeable of a variety of skills in various fields.
--- Martial Skills ---
Adept Swordsmanship - As the son of a knight, and a knight himself, Emil has received martial training in various fields, and is capable with many weapons, but shows the most promise with a sword. Skilled enough to face down a common soldier or an untrained fighter and coming out no worse for wear, Emil struggles against more hardened and experienced foes.
Journeyman Spearmanship - Along with his swordsmanship, Emil has received training with the spear and lance, though it is clear he shows a preference to the sword. His stance and form are solid, and the spear is by nature, an easy weapon to pick up and use. He lacks the refinement of a master spearman, but can still use it with relative effectiveness.
Journeyman Archery - Alongside his other martial skills, Emil has also been trained in the use of the bow and arrow. He is neither particularly fast, nor particularly accurate with the bow, and is for all intents and purposes, average. He does slightly better with a crossbow, and primarily utilizes this skill for hunting.
Journeyman Horseback Riding - As a knight, Emil is trained on how to ride a horse, take care of a horse, and fight from a horse, though it is clear that he would prefer to do combat while on the ground. Stamina stemming from his youthfulness allows him to ride for hours without considerable exhaustion.
Trained Armor use - Years of training have taught Emil how to quickly don and remove plate armor, and can thus move with more dexterity and quickness than one without training would be able to. He is also well versed on the care of plate armor.
Trained Shield use - Several years of training has shown Emil how to properly brace and use a shield to block and deflect blows. As he is not the largest presence on the battlefield, when faced with larger foes, Emil primarily relies on deflecting and sidestepping enemy blows rather than attempting to completely stop or black oncoming attacks
--- Trade Skills ---
Journeyman Cooking - While not a master chef by any meaning of the word, Emil is resourceful and can cook a variety of meals with what little resources are often available while in the field.
Journeyman Surgery/First Aid - Unable to treat wounds via magic, Emil has been trained and is experienced with treating a variety of minor and moderate wounds, and is even capable of some surgery for more serious wounds. These treatments are not magic, and do not mend wounds instantly- nor do they guarantee the successful mending of wounds, but can serve to stave off death until more experienced doctors or healers can provide aid.
Journeyman Crafting - From tailoring and needlework, to leather-working, Emil, while not particularly amazing at any craftsman's trade, is skilled enough to make field repairs to clothing and armor.
Magic
Emil has no skill or control over magic, though it appears that he may have the affinity for magic. He views magic with suspicion and a small amount of fear, and while he has accepted magic as a facet of life, he is still unnerved by it.
Backstory:
The city of Edessa is a fair sized city-state located along the coast of __(mainland continent neighboring Silver Lily Isles)__. Edessa is a constitutional monarchy led primarily by the King, and a group of senators. It is not a major military power, but is known for its high quality knights and sturdy and reliable trade ships, and also contributed a large portion of its forces Mage-Wars decades ago. Edessa, due to its proximity to the Silver Lily Isles, often trades with the settlements on the Isle, most notably Waeldeshore. Edessa and Waeldeshore have built a rather positive trade relationship over the past two decades, and ships bearing Edessan flags are common in Waeldeshore and vice versa.
Emil, youngest son of the Erran family, comes from a long line of Edessan Knights. Emil, like the rest of his brothers were introduced to the lifestyle of a knight at a young age, and were immersed in their culture from the moment he could walk. The son of a Edessan Knight and his wife, Emil and his brothers were well educated at a young age and were taught manners as well as basic martial skills and knowledges as children. Throughout their childhood, Emil and his brothers would often venture into the city to play with other children. Emil made friends easily, and was known for his gentle and sensitive demeanor, while the rest of his brothers were respected for their various other qualities.
As they Erran children grew older, they were trained in the ways of various weapons, such as the spear and sword, and were trained in horsemanship and riding. After his seventh birthday, Emil was apprenticed to another noble family to serve as a page, where he would begin to further refine horsemanship and swordsmanship as well as learn the intricacies of reading and writing. A naturally perceptive and relatively intelligent child, Emil was treated well by his host family, and learned much under their tutelage.
The Knights of Edessa, or the Edessan Knights as many know them as, are an order of knights based in the city of Edessa. These knights are tasked with serving and protecting the people of Edessa, and often promote humanitarian movements to hunting monsters in the surrounding areas. These stalwart warriors are well known for both their valor and martial skill, despite their relatively small numbers. Every male member of the Erran family had been an Edessan Knight at one point in their life. Emil's brother is among the famed members of the Edessan Knights, and one of the King's personal guards. Each of Emil's brothers has already entered service in the order.
As he turned 14, he became squire to a famed Edessan Knight, where he furthered his training, continuing his work on bladesmanship and horsemanship, as well as learning archery, music, speech, and skills befitting a young knight. Here he learned how to take care of, and maintain armor, how to tend horses and treat wounds. The next several years were difficult, his knight was fair, but strict, and offered him nothing but the most difficult challenges to face.
Now a fresh 18 years old, Emil's journey to become a full fledged knight of Edessan has been completed, and Emil undertakes his first few journeys as his own knight. A message from the Great Sage Genevieve of Waeldeshore gives Emil his first taste of an adventure that he can call his own.
Possessions, Equipment, Weapons:
Father's Sword - A gift given to Emil by his father, upon his recent knighting. The sword is forged from Dwarven Steel- a special dwarven metallurgy technique that results in a tougher, denser, more durable steel. The blade is old and worn from use, but still remains a reliable weapon. A shorter than average bastard sword, it is light and maneuverable enough to be held in one hand, but its two handed grip makes it able to be wielded with two.
Common Spear - A 6 foot pole of ash wood, with a steel tip attached. One of the most common personal weapons in the world, this weapon is easily used, and easily replaced. Able to be wielded with one hand, but most effective with two.
Shortbow & Quiver - A short yew bow meant for hunting. Plain and simple, without any sort of frills, other than leather wrapping around the grip. A wooden and leather quiver contains 20 arrows. Both are typically stored on the outer saddlebags of Emil's horse.
Heater Shield - A mid-sized shield with the Erran family coat of arms emblazoned across it. It is a lightweight metal shield that can be strapped to the forearm and secured with the hand. It has a leather strap that allows it to be slung over the shoulder/worn over the back.
Edessan Half Plate - a cut down suit of plate armor generally utilized by mounted Edessan knights and soldiers. Plates protect major parts of the body, while the rest of the body is protected with tough leather and mail under a tunic. This is to allow light weight, and greater mobility while mounted. The benefits confer to foot combat as well.
Roark, Horse - A well bred, multi-purpose horse ridden by Emil. Roark is a calm, well mannered horse, that doesn't scare easily. Roark wears boiled leather barding(armor) on his face, neck, and body. The barding is lightweight, and can protect Roark from glancing blows but doesn't provide much protection elsewise. Its still better than nothing, Emil argues. Roark also has saddlebags on his sides and behind the saddle.
Roark's saddlebags contain: A pair of leather waterskins, a small pouch with money, a tinderbox, lines and tackle for fishing, a small iron bowl for cooking, a small hatchet for wood gathering, a small knife and whetstone, a length of rope (approx. 30 feet), a spool of fine thread and needle, a roll of clean cloth and bottle of spirits for cleaning and treating wounds, a pouch of herbal ointment, a lantern with several spare candles, a few days worth of provisions for Emil as well as his horse. Behind the saddle is a blanket and spare clothes are wrapped in a roll of canvas. |
55,753 | 1,527 | 89 | 179 | 5,559 | Enemies surrounded the mage in under a minute with a speed he well underestimated, keeping him on the floor and for the moment leaving him with a few seconds for preparing his next move, slightly disoriented as he was.
It was clear the house had been well prepared. He had figured he was well prepared enough, but as his situation worsened and the hallway - thankfully with a sizable hole in the floor - became filled with new arrivals, he was thankful that he had prepared himself.
A loss here would damage any future attempts short of a combat group of mages, and that would be a very messy affair indeed. He would need to kill the sage quickly and have the Order mop up her cronies. All affiliations with such a corrupt master needed to be eliminated. And there was the artifact to account for.
He looked into the eyes of the lioness. While some would fear one such as who stood before him, his seniority in the Order allowed him many travel experiences, and while he had not met one exactly such as - her? -, he had enough travel behind him to know the difference between raw fear and healthy respect. That one such as her would serve a being as corrupt as the sage was a sad thought. Not waiting for the halfling to prepare an attack or the lioness to engage further, he prepared and released a hasty, but efficient spell to expel the air in his immediate area outwards, focusing towards the lioness and the doorway while pulling a tall fallen candlestick towards him and swiftly coming to his knees with the talisman in his other hand to prepare a much more effective counter.
He wasn't sure the limits of his enemies, and while being a Ritari of the Magi afforded him the discipline and skillset to take on magically attuned opponents, it wasn't part of his plan to fight the very house and a growing number of enemies, so far magically attuned. | Known information about characters played by ArenaSnow goes here. Select a hider to see more...
Stuff will change over time, especially following a post where I introduce someone or something.
I use "he" a lot from habit. If I'm using vaguespeech, it could be either way.
Zargon & Company
Zargon's a name known to anyone who has heard of the events of Waeldeshore and is described as being a massive, powerful demon with command over many other demons. He is considered by many academics a massive danger and can use a wide variety of powers; some have claimed he can even see any place in the world he wants, although this is doubtful and most likely just rumor (although more learned academics would say it is a possibility). He dropped off the radar after engaging in a losing battle against the original heros of Waeleshore. Said heros would feel a very familiar presence if his taint is around...
OOC: He was a primary antagonist of the previous Rp. Will he return? Maybe. If he does, just be careful.
Chandon
To original heros in the town of Waeldeshore that witnissed the fall of Artholath, the only mention of him is "Damn you Chandon" as the demon fell. Those with knowledge of ancient lore associate the name Chandon with a demon known for being mysterious, holding some degree of high end power (specifics unknown), and being a destroyer of old knowledge. Guessed to be a high end demon, but not confirmed, even by many demons. Most people simply don't know the name at all. Ancient demon lore says he has the powers of higher level demons, can shapeshift and can teleport. An old lorebook that some sages and high end magic users have old copies of describes him as taking the form of a female with one human blue eye to the left, with the right eye being a shifting mass of grey with a red center. One distinct ability he is said to have is cloaking; concealing his demonic power completely so that others around cannot tell the difference.
OOC: He was mentioned in the last RP. It is possible he will have a presence this time by extension.
The Necromancer
Little is known about him (her?), save the tales of undead swarming towns to the southwest and rumors associating various guessed identities of rogue necromancers and mages with these swarms.
OOC: Not the focus of the roleplay... right now. He's pretty far south and the Jarjestys Magi has already sent mages to combat him, so it's not your fight. Although that isn't to say it couldn't be.
Aldur
It is said that the archangel Aldur from ancient legends came to Ioannes and gave him the Mark of the Third Order, said to be the last angelic blessing given to any mortal. Ioannes was a man who helped save the town of Waeldeshore from destruction at the hands of Zargon who proceeded to revolutionize the governance of Giray and help set the course for a shifting of power. Ioannes then proceeded to vanish 10 years ago... and hasn't been seen since.
OOC: You? Meet an Archangel? It's like asking if you're going to be struck by lightning during the course of the roleplay... hmm. Maybe that wasn't the best comparison in a roleplay with demons and mages and magic.
Kaephael
Kaephael was an angel that according to legend fell to corruption and was banished, and has been wandering the mortal realm since. Another legend says this same angel lost his sword... somewhere, and has been looking for it for thousands of years and cannot return to the angelic realm until he finds it.
OOC: Just legends. Who says I can't put legends into a post that has all my main characters in it?
To be made known. Soon. |
55,754 | 1,527 | 90 | 1,054 | 1,812 | The key will open the way to her most prized possession. It has ruined her, corrupted her. She means to rule this realm beneath her heal and once she has gained control of the demons from hell ... she will use them here to do her bidding, and destroy anyone in her way. Now Go! Before this house swallows you all!
The girl squeaked, looking every which way as she spoke. Then ran ... away from Ajax, away from the hallway, disappearing into the house. Whether or not her answers were enough for him, they were all that she was getting for fear kept her from saying any more. Such a fear was written all over her face, her dilated pupils, the beads of sweat that trickled down her pasty pale forehead, trailing over a taunt jaw as the rest of her flesh drained of its color.
Suddenly a chill ran through the house, the wood moaned as if an old man rising from a settled position. It would take a miracle if they could get out of this one alive.
~~~~~ * ~~~~~
Isabeau sneaked in, right through the front door. Whether or not the protective wards were still up and active, she wasn't sure. But from the feeling she got, it didn't matter. She felt the vibrations of power, magic flood the house, and then there was that tingling sensation again. The talisman. Sticking to the shadows, she hurried up the stairs. No innocent blood would be spilled this night, not if she could help it.
As she came upon them, the energy in the room was enough to tear her insides out and suddenly she wanted to vomit. She had become so sensitive over the years, especially the more she slipped into the shadow realm. And between the protection spells, and the magic being thrown back and forth between the opposing sides, and whatever Genevieve had dished out earlier, had it not been for the talisman, she just might have slipped into oblivion.
If she intervened, especially now, she knew it would only cause more strife, more doubt of her motives and reasons. Of course Regina stood at the front of the line, ready to fight or die. She often wondered if the girl just thought herself invulnerable to the cold grasp of the reaper, or if she was just so blind of her reckless actions that the thought of them getting her and others killed never even crossed her mind. And for a moment, it pained her to see the hin. She could never ask for forgiveness, and would never expect it either, but had just hoped that in time, she might understand, at the very least understand why she had to betray Genevieve.
The others had one by one filed up behind Regina, each taking in the threat that was the Magi. If it actually came to a fight, she would have to step in ... if it came to a fight, it would surely end very badly. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,755 | 1,527 | 91 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The intention that carried with the hastened sword, its edge gleaming amidst the chaos that was ever steadily gaining momentum, was not so much a deathly blow as it could have been, but a mortal warning. The shunt of air intervening well, it caused the enormous leonine form to absorb the brunt of its impact and be driven back by a few paces, but not before the swing connected; a sonorous hum filled the air for the aging mithral weapon sung in reply to the wind its blade carved through, ending in a powerful clatter of buckling metal and the thud of wood. The tall, narrow profile of the candelabra that had laid across the fine wooden floor, the same the Ritari had been clinging to in order to rise up to his knees moments before, was cut clean in two.
The metal smoothly sundered, it spoke volumes to what it and its bearer could do to a man.
Her arm and shoulder raised in a defensive posture to shield her upper half, the Huntress leaned into the wind until it waned, the remains of the old, formerly ebon robes she wore about her massive person fluttering about in their tatters; the magical gale's strength having caused her to drag the sword across the once fine wooden floor and leave a clean hewn path in its wake. The gap had increased, but it meant truly nothing to the hastened veteran, who peered with the cold eyes of a hardened hunter at the mage.
It was all very much business, but this man strangely had done nothing to try to kill her yet, despite the pressure and menace she exerted on him.
As the winds subsided and her remnant clothing settled about her powerful, beastly frame, she willed the shielding arm down slowly and idled a spell; she knew that any arcanist worth his salt would recognize the gesture, as she made no attempt to disguise the spell in her people's now dead tongue. It was then the abjuration began to coalesce about her palm, wrapping itself in a nearly transparent aura, readied for what she predicted to be the counterattack with the sword hand keeping the blade steady and no higher than her waist. The intent was to either take the brunt of his own attempt to dispel the hastening magic that sheathed her, or to encourage his own actual spell's cast; something that he seemingly was intent to do as he grasped a foreign talisman.
"You are outmatched and outnumbered, mage." Sakaala's keen ears flicked at a strange, cold chill that accompanied the creaking of the once grand manor but continued all the same in her strong voice, "As while I do not know if you or your order serve this 'Zargon', still your spells and perhaps you might yet keep your life."
Both eyes, the one keen and the one blind, narrowed and her brow furled low as she attempted to read the invader's demeanor and person; from what it was she was told, this was a fight between two wizardly collectives, with some greater stake over these stones... that portion of which directly concerned her. She could care less as to which one were more "righteous" in their quest, but more to that this evil be hunted and rightfully destroyed; men, particularly those with magic, were petty things and perfectly content to squabble just like the commoners they thought themselves ordained over.
The expression he had shared earlier was strange - when his eyes met her own, almost with a gleam of curiosity, respect, fear and disappointment as one - as was that he made no effort to actively kill her with the obvious magic he could command. She played in reply, cocking her muzzle and head ever so slightly to the side, glancing over to where Lady Genevieve had fallen then back to him. Whether he did or did not pick up on her innuendo as to just who he was and what his business truly was, was perhaps irrelevant, but the scarred ranger needed to try at the least.
She did not trust the mage and she certainly did not trust Lady Genevieve. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,756 | 1,527 | 92 | 179 | 5,559 | The mage teetered as the candelabra was sliced, slamming the top end into the floor to keep him in balance. As he looked at his opponent, he realized how the situation was going.
The supposed agents of the dark sage had spent little effort on destroying him. While there was always the possibility of a trick, the impression he gained from the lioness in particular was one more weary and concerned for self-protection in this affair as compared to an all out attack to protect the sage's interests. He was no mind reader, but something was to be said by what appeared to be the use of a defensive rather than offensive spell in retaliation, not the typical response of someone acting to kill. He would be curious of the spell's origins in another situation.
As the lioness spoke, most of the words were ignored save for a name. Zargon. It was a name he well knew from ancient lore, the name of the Dark One. Rewinding, he thought over the words spoken. It appeared he was suspected of working for such a demon, even as he saw the sage as working for the very same demon. Assuming it was not all a trick, of course, something for which he prepared by phasing out his current spell and bringing his talisman to the side even as he mentally set it to collect energies in a discreet fashion in the event any sudden move was made. He had two roads: Fight and lose a perfectly good golem form and leave the talisman behind, or break some words and better determine his opposition. He kept one eye on the doorway as he adapted a slightly relaxed posture but every bit ready to attack at any sudden move, eyebrows furrowed slightly and the dark blue of one keeping contact with that of the lioness.
The long scrape caused by the dragged sword widened very suddenly, creating a maw prepared to consume both the lioness and the sage as it expanded across the floor. He sent the strongest strong gust of air yet towards the lioness as he rolled to the side, just as the ceiling buckled and sent the contents of a room filled with everything from gold to wine bottles downwards to crush most of the room's center and to partially block the doorway. | Known information about characters played by ArenaSnow goes here. Select a hider to see more...
Stuff will change over time, especially following a post where I introduce someone or something.
I use "he" a lot from habit. If I'm using vaguespeech, it could be either way.
Zargon & Company
Zargon's a name known to anyone who has heard of the events of Waeldeshore and is described as being a massive, powerful demon with command over many other demons. He is considered by many academics a massive danger and can use a wide variety of powers; some have claimed he can even see any place in the world he wants, although this is doubtful and most likely just rumor (although more learned academics would say it is a possibility). He dropped off the radar after engaging in a losing battle against the original heros of Waeleshore. Said heros would feel a very familiar presence if his taint is around...
OOC: He was a primary antagonist of the previous Rp. Will he return? Maybe. If he does, just be careful.
Chandon
To original heros in the town of Waeldeshore that witnissed the fall of Artholath, the only mention of him is "Damn you Chandon" as the demon fell. Those with knowledge of ancient lore associate the name Chandon with a demon known for being mysterious, holding some degree of high end power (specifics unknown), and being a destroyer of old knowledge. Guessed to be a high end demon, but not confirmed, even by many demons. Most people simply don't know the name at all. Ancient demon lore says he has the powers of higher level demons, can shapeshift and can teleport. An old lorebook that some sages and high end magic users have old copies of describes him as taking the form of a female with one human blue eye to the left, with the right eye being a shifting mass of grey with a red center. One distinct ability he is said to have is cloaking; concealing his demonic power completely so that others around cannot tell the difference.
OOC: He was mentioned in the last RP. It is possible he will have a presence this time by extension.
The Necromancer
Little is known about him (her?), save the tales of undead swarming towns to the southwest and rumors associating various guessed identities of rogue necromancers and mages with these swarms.
OOC: Not the focus of the roleplay... right now. He's pretty far south and the Jarjestys Magi has already sent mages to combat him, so it's not your fight. Although that isn't to say it couldn't be.
Aldur
It is said that the archangel Aldur from ancient legends came to Ioannes and gave him the Mark of the Third Order, said to be the last angelic blessing given to any mortal. Ioannes was a man who helped save the town of Waeldeshore from destruction at the hands of Zargon who proceeded to revolutionize the governance of Giray and help set the course for a shifting of power. Ioannes then proceeded to vanish 10 years ago... and hasn't been seen since.
OOC: You? Meet an Archangel? It's like asking if you're going to be struck by lightning during the course of the roleplay... hmm. Maybe that wasn't the best comparison in a roleplay with demons and mages and magic.
Kaephael
Kaephael was an angel that according to legend fell to corruption and was banished, and has been wandering the mortal realm since. Another legend says this same angel lost his sword... somewhere, and has been looking for it for thousands of years and cannot return to the angelic realm until he finds it.
OOC: Just legends. Who says I can't put legends into a post that has all my main characters in it?
To be made known. Soon. |
55,757 | 1,527 | 93 | 276 | 729 | Regina had felt Sakaala coming before she heard the lioness's voice. She knew that she was not as big a threat as her ally, opting to step to the side to allow the beast woman to have the mage's attention. Both Sakaala and the man spoke and readied spells. Regina, however, was trying to use this time to get into the man's mind. Just as she was about to, though, the ceiling collapsed. She launched a dagger past the man's face, wanting him to see it miss him. "The next one won't miss." she said, floating herself closer to him. "Tell us why you're here before I have to dig through your mind." She hoped he wouldn't make her force into his mind. She doubted she could at this point, not without some much-needed rest first. If he were to truly study her floating form, he would see a bit of a falter in her concentration. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,758 | 1,527 | 94 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax hid the key within his loincloth and mouthed a foul curse in his native tongue as the young servant fled, terror warping her features. At least he had been right, or so he had reason to believe, and he wondered whether the rest would actually side against a former partner of theirs. He hoped the groaning and creaking of the house would sway them. He was not magically inclined and could not actually discern what dark arts had gone into creating this massive death trap, but he could feel the sorcery, smell its foulness. By the gods, how he hated all matters concerning wizards and their ilk. Fat lot of weaklings them all.
As the manor seemingly came to life around him, Ajax smashed one of his massive fists into a wall. Without preparation, it still left a sizeable crater with an obvious outline of his knuckles right in the center. "You'll not find me easy prey", he hissed with a grin as he bent down low in a four-point stance. Weight balanced forward with both fists on the ground, legs coiled tightly and ready to spring him forth. It was a way to maximize explosive movement and leverage in one direction: straight ahead. With a warcry as inhuman as any demon's Ajax exploded down the secret hallway as his feet blasted chunks of the floor backwards.
Ajax was by no means an agile man, but his extremely powerful legs allowed him to build up ridiculous speeds in bursts and that is exactly what he did as he charged through the passageway. The house sensed his approach and tried to stop him, forming walls and collapsing parts of itself to try and block his way. Time and time again Ajax smashed into the obstacles shoulder-first with the force of a 300 pound cannonball before bringing his elbow and forearm to bear, blasting aside what the charge had not already reduced to rubble. Gaping maws formed on the floor were cleared with beastly leaps that bore little in common with an athlete's practiced vaulting.
So caught up in his charge he was that Ajax did not really see the door at the end of the corridor, and so he burst through the scene quite literally through what had before looked like a mere wall before stomping down to grind himself to a halt. Very dynamic, but not at all subtle. | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,759 | 1,527 | 95 | 1,153 | 95 | As Ionathan followed Emil he paused before another suit of armour that had a flanged mace, he was tempted to take it, Ionathan preferred maces when in a battle. While it was not as elegant or romantic as a sword, its overall damage to armoured and unarmoured opponents was the reason he preferred them. Reaching his hand out to take it he drew it back after a moment of through. They had already borrowed a longsword and a polearm, taking the mace would just be insulting, and dishonourable. Because of his distraction Ionathan arrived latter that the other, so he stacked up by the door so that his presence was not known by the intruder. He soon was happy of his decision when a gale force wind erupted from the room along with what he could tell by the floor shaking a colossal amount of objects falling to the floor.
Waiting until the chaotic noise had died down he went to go through the door only to be stopped by debris of fallen items. Looking through an opening in the debris Ionathan saw Regina close to the intruder, daggers at the ready. Ionathan quickly racked his brain for something he could do and came to the conclusion that he could use his guardsman status so that he can try to defuse the situation.
“This is the Waeldershorian guard! Cease hostilities! We can talk about this like honest gentlemen! I’m going to start pushing away this rubble, do not be alarmed” | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,760 | 1,527 | 96 | 276 | 729 | Regina frowned, hearing Ionathan's call. "Now's not the time for pleasantries!" she called over her shoulder, allowing 4 of her daggers to fall from the loss of concentration. Turning back to the intruder, she pointed one hand at him, 4 more daggers aimed for his shoulders and thighs. She sheathed most of the other daggers, even recalling the ones that had fallen from her, except her 2 longest. With her psionics now focused only on herself, she was able to send out a mental wave to find all the minds around her that weren't shielded. She felt the man's, Genevieve's unconsciousness, Sakaala, Ionathan, and Emil, as well as many maids. She wasn't surprised she couldn't sense Ajax, despite knowing he was there. Looking down, she saw it would take too long for her to get herself across the gap, opting to land beside Sakaala instead. "I think you can handle him better than I can at this point." she said, turning to look at the beast-woman and the large man. "And you two would be better backup than me as well." She walked past them, spinning to face the mage again. With wide eyes, she spun back around, looking down the hall. With a look of confusion, she started walking away from the scene. "Was that..." she began, poking into the maids' minds to try to verify what she saw. "Was that Isabeau?" | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,761 | 1,527 | 97 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The heave that came with the floor's boards as they groaned, ached and soon enough splintered into a gaping divide was more than enough to spur the lightning fast reactions of the enchanted leonine monster; yet for as much as she moved, the hurricane wind carried her even more distant. In truth, were it not for the agility of her own feet and the magi's grand manipulation of elemental air, she would have gone further - much further at that. She leaned into it with the force of a beast as grand as she was - both woman and lioness - yet it still pushed her to the wall.
There had been no time to think, not yet at least, for as she peered from behind her shoulder and arm once more, swinging the sword to the ready in a graceful pose before her in a double arc, she noted the figure across the room who vanished behind a collapse of stone and wood, trailed by golden finery, bottles of aged wine, and royal cloths. It was only with the perceived slowness of time that came with her magic that she was able to stare as she did at him - the dust and clutter filling the air rapidly.
Her scarred face and tattered jowl proved emotionless and cold as she simply embraced the situation at hand.
She was deprived her prey, the entirety of the center of an upper floor having nearly consumed him but now instead having concealed his escape, but it was deeper still than just that. Men sent upon a mission to kill do not stay their blades without reason, and as the last bits of the collapsed portion of the manor met the pile before the cadre of mercenary adventurer, knights and psion, she remained idle before calmly sheathing her sword once more across her muscular, armored back. The blade's whispering song silencing as it hung upon her without any material scabbard, the old Huntress debated what just transpired internally; she knew he would remember the expression she provided him before and now.
Perhaps if she were anyone else she would doubt that her enemy attempted to save her life, but Sakaala was distrusting of all mortals... at least at first.
“This is the Waeldershorian guard! Cease hostilities! We can talk about this like honest gentlemen! I’m going to start pushing away this rubble, do not be alarmed."
Turning to look over her dust coated shoulder, some motes of which then fell from her, a set of daggers hurled themselves upon the debris where the man had been not even a second before - both Hills and Sir Hepburnberg having assaulted the room, blades and blunt at the ready.
"I think you can handle him better than I can at this point."
"As much as I would like to stay and speak or test one particular wizard's mettle, this place is soon to fall upon us." Sakaala began, hurrying at what she considered a short few steps to the edge of the room and before a window with unnatural grace, "Get your things and I will get the woman - we are to be leaving."
Each step and slight bound or motion over the stone scattered loose, of which had sprawled out toward the edge of the room, provided her little issue, and the most motion that seemed to come with her was what had been the cloak she shrouded herself in; the rest of her lean, athletic form moved in a graceful blur. Looking back to the two men as she wrenched the metal and glass open through muscle alone, she sent shards cascading outside into the muddy soil and rain.
"A hunt is no good if the hunters are dead." | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,762 | 1,527 | 98 | 1,054 | 1,812 | Isabeau kept in the shadows, positioning herself in such a way that she can still keep an eye on the happenings, just in case anything got out of hand. It was more important to keep the Magi in her sights than anyone else. And while she had lost him for a moment as he made an escape into Genevieve's room, she wasn't overly concerned. Conversation typically meant that blood would be slow to spill. And gauging the others, they would fight if need be, but it didn't seem to be their first choice considering all things.
She had managed to keep a calm head about her, focused and hidden. However, her concentration was broken when a large mass came crashing through in the bedroom. She didn't think they would battle here, not with the house mounting its own attack on the living within it. Had the old hag summoned forth one of her monstrosities to kill them all?! The break in concentration would've allowed Regina to sense her. The house nearly collapsing on them all didn't quite help. She knew Regina had sensed her though, she could feel her mind prodding through.
There is no time for this, goddammit!, she muttered quietly, finally moving from her spot. It was just a few paces to the doorway, she just needed to get into the room. She loosed a breath, and then she was off. Weaving herself in and out of this realm and the realm of shadows, treading as light as she possibly could. Traveling through the shadow realm was dangerous enough. It was becoming like a constant game of tug-o-war. She couldn't quite tell which side was winning, and the damage it was doing to her would soon become irreparable. On a simpler note, if her bursts weren't short enough, she could lose sight of where she was going, and end up colliding with objects or people.
The room was in shambles, planks of wood shot up towards the ceiling, tearing through glittering shades of gold and rose cloth. Genevieve lay limp on the floor, a mop of grey hair covered her face and sprawled over her back, lackluster and frazzled. Her body blocked a large wardrobe set at the far end of the bedroom, the one single ornament untouched by this madness.
Returning from the shadows, she somehow bypassed the debris and everyone that trickled into the cramped space. She nearly walked right into the Magi. Fortunately for her, as the cottage continued in its attempt to swallow them all, a violent quake sent her crashing backwards to the floor, right on her rump. She scrambled, looking to find anything to hold on to. Glancing up to look at the Magi, she realized there was something else ... Someone else. Ajax had been the loud crash, having broken trough a wall? A door! A secret passageway! The edge of her mouth curved slightly and she stifled a laugh. She shouldn't have been all that surprised, but she was, and perhaps a bit relieved to see him.
"We have to get out of here, now! This house is going to come down on us at any moment." she muttered. Her lips moved, but her voice was barely audible. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,763 | 1,527 | 99 | 276 | 729 | Then let's get out of here! Regina called back, looking at Sakaala. It was then she saw Isabeau by the mage. She was instantly torn between joy to see her again and anger about her leaving her. Regina stared at her for a few seconds before tearing her gaze away. "Let's go!" she called, pointing to the door. "And someone grab Genevieve!" She began moving towards the door herself, using what little of her psionics she could to make a path for both her allies and Isabeau and the mage. "Hurry!" she yelled, looking around. "I think most of the maids are already outside!" With the idea, she searched the house mentally, telling everyone she found to find everyone they could and tell them to get out. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,764 | 1,527 | 100 | 179 | 5,559 | The mage allowed the steadily destabilizing house to turn attention away from him. He wasn't sure what drove him to do what he did previously, but he put the issue out of his mind at the moment to come to a conclusion: the sage could be eliminated later, and possibly through reason with the group, but he was particularly interested in the contents of the wardrobe; he only needed to pay attention to it to feel the enchantments there were stronger than even the enchantments that were creating cracks in the floor around him in what was beginning to resemble an earthquake. He could not open it alone... or could he?
He looked to the talisman in his hand, which was becoming very warm his palm, having not stopped on the house's account in its drawing of surrounding energy. He stood, looking Isabeau, the big man who had charged through the wall, and the halfling who had partially created a path out. The house would fall before they could all get out the door of the supposed cottage; a structure where the space within was no doubt at least partially designed to slow enemies down. Removing the wardrobe on the spot before the house came down to render extraction a complicated affair, or assisting all involved to leave before any casualties resulted.
The mage was practical, but not without conscience.
He channeled the power of the talisman to aid his own skills in shoving the mess almost completely out of the way, enabling a path for the lioness and others to more easily leave the room, and channeled a strong blast of air with wisps of yellow magic into the cottage wall near the doorway, blowing an open hole that quickly filled with rain. Though they were not on the ground floor, he figured he wouldn't burn out both his own energies and the talisman just yet. He countered the house's enchantments with his own mind, a strenuous task; but one he hoped would allow him to keep the house's immediate hallway and the room together long enough to enable a quick exit.
"Leave now," he yelled with a hint of strain in his voice, pointing towards the open hole. "The wind will catch you!" he added, knowing full well that adding th at to his present list of tasks would end poorly if not for his mind, then the golem body that he felt was beginning to lose substance within. | Known information about characters played by ArenaSnow goes here. Select a hider to see more...
Stuff will change over time, especially following a post where I introduce someone or something.
I use "he" a lot from habit. If I'm using vaguespeech, it could be either way.
Zargon & Company
Zargon's a name known to anyone who has heard of the events of Waeldeshore and is described as being a massive, powerful demon with command over many other demons. He is considered by many academics a massive danger and can use a wide variety of powers; some have claimed he can even see any place in the world he wants, although this is doubtful and most likely just rumor (although more learned academics would say it is a possibility). He dropped off the radar after engaging in a losing battle against the original heros of Waeleshore. Said heros would feel a very familiar presence if his taint is around...
OOC: He was a primary antagonist of the previous Rp. Will he return? Maybe. If he does, just be careful.
Chandon
To original heros in the town of Waeldeshore that witnissed the fall of Artholath, the only mention of him is "Damn you Chandon" as the demon fell. Those with knowledge of ancient lore associate the name Chandon with a demon known for being mysterious, holding some degree of high end power (specifics unknown), and being a destroyer of old knowledge. Guessed to be a high end demon, but not confirmed, even by many demons. Most people simply don't know the name at all. Ancient demon lore says he has the powers of higher level demons, can shapeshift and can teleport. An old lorebook that some sages and high end magic users have old copies of describes him as taking the form of a female with one human blue eye to the left, with the right eye being a shifting mass of grey with a red center. One distinct ability he is said to have is cloaking; concealing his demonic power completely so that others around cannot tell the difference.
OOC: He was mentioned in the last RP. It is possible he will have a presence this time by extension.
The Necromancer
Little is known about him (her?), save the tales of undead swarming towns to the southwest and rumors associating various guessed identities of rogue necromancers and mages with these swarms.
OOC: Not the focus of the roleplay... right now. He's pretty far south and the Jarjestys Magi has already sent mages to combat him, so it's not your fight. Although that isn't to say it couldn't be.
Aldur
It is said that the archangel Aldur from ancient legends came to Ioannes and gave him the Mark of the Third Order, said to be the last angelic blessing given to any mortal. Ioannes was a man who helped save the town of Waeldeshore from destruction at the hands of Zargon who proceeded to revolutionize the governance of Giray and help set the course for a shifting of power. Ioannes then proceeded to vanish 10 years ago... and hasn't been seen since.
OOC: You? Meet an Archangel? It's like asking if you're going to be struck by lightning during the course of the roleplay... hmm. Maybe that wasn't the best comparison in a roleplay with demons and mages and magic.
Kaephael
Kaephael was an angel that according to legend fell to corruption and was banished, and has been wandering the mortal realm since. Another legend says this same angel lost his sword... somewhere, and has been looking for it for thousands of years and cannot return to the angelic realm until he finds it.
OOC: Just legends. Who says I can't put legends into a post that has all my main characters in it?
To be made known. Soon. |
55,765 | 1,527 | 101 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax took stock of the situation, grinning at the sudden apparition of Isabeau before focusing his gaze on the collapsed old crone that had been his host, the rival sorcerer and the wardrobe they both seemed to be most interested in. And he had the key. Lifting a finger towards Isabeau, to tell her to wait but a moment, he somewhat rudely stepped towards what held the lynchpin to this entire situation and somewhat rudely pushed the magus away, though not with any sort of unnecessary force. His disdain for magic was palpable, but this was not the time to pick a fight with a stranger that had done nothing to anger him.
"Excuse me", he said as though he were simply making his way through a crowded street as he pulled the key from his loincloth. It was an old thing and most unassuming, an undecorated piece of iron bearing a few marks of rust. For a split second or less, Ajax felt tempted to discard it and measure his worth. Surely this trunk has been reinforced most heavily, both in a physical and sorcerous way. Could he destroy the enchantments by hand, smash the thing apart and take its contents by force? He so wanted to try, but the situation was not what one would call ideal. Personal satisfaction would have to wait.
The key fit perfectly, good as new, and perhaps the mages saw whatever magic was held in both doing their work, whatever defenses were in place yielding to the other piece of the puzzle. For Ajax it was just opening a wardrobe and removing the one thing he saw, a lovingly leather covering made from sort of blue leather, laden with a script he could not read and secured tightly with a golden cord. Whatever was inside, he could not tell, but as it has been mounted upon some type of altar-like structure, he figured it was what he needed to grab. If not, they were gonna have to do some digging.
He held the bag out for the others to see, gripped so tightly they might rightly fear his grip would crush whatever was inside. "I believe this is important. Shall we leave, then? Someone carry our host, I would rather not put her too near whatever this is". | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,766 | 1,527 | 102 | 1,153 | 95 | With a nod of understanding Ionathan made his way out of the room and into the hallway.
“I’ll see you outside, good luck!”
He ran down the hallway only slowing to drop the sword by the suit of armour where the sword came from as he made his way to his room. Bursting through the rooms door Ionathan started to stuff all his equipment into his travel pack, which was not much as he had not brought much equipment with him as he wanted to buy provisions and equipment after he knew what Genevieve had planned for him. It only took a few seconds to get his dining utensils back in their box and into the pack along with a spare set of clothes and his sack of coins that were already in the pack.
While the upper leg guards would fit in the pack, the gambeson and mail however would not, so Ionathan started to don his armour. Fortunately, this was one of the advantages of gambeson and mail, they’re both easy to don without any need for assistance, the gambeson had leather straps running down the centre and the mail could be put on just like a normal shirt. It was always Ionathan’s opinion that although Knights may favour some form of plate armour, for soldiers who have fought on the battlefield, that which keeps them alive is armour enough.
Next he buckled his belt so that it may take some of the armours weight off his shoulders, it was an old soldiers trick that was always popular in the army, on the belt was his sword. Made in celebration of his promotion to Commissioner, this blade had never left Ionathan side when he went out on bandit camp raids and highway patrols. Then he put his heraldic tabard sporting the Hepburnberg coat of arms, a white background with a red lion running rampant. Lastly he donned his Helmet which was tailored just so that the padding inside the helmet positioned his eyes perfectly with the slit in the visor.
Putting on his gloves, holding his shield and slinging the pack over his back, in just a few minutes he now looked like the hero of Waeldeshore that years ago had fought back against the evil that was threatening his home.
By this point the room around him was in utter chaos. The accessories of the room were now mostly on the floor as was the contents of the book case that now lay on its side, worse still was a large hole that had emerged in the celling which had been filled with some large wooden object that was too big to go all the way through.
Deducing that he used up most of his time donning his armour, Ionathan decided that a quicker escape from the collapsing cottage was necessary. Running to Ajax’s room he dropped out of the hole made earlier. As it was not a far drop he landed without issue bending his knees, accompanied by the noise of riveted mail rings striking each other. Stopping only to raise his visor and to get his bearings Ionathan now moved to the front of the house.
Some of the maids had taken cover in a large roofed front of a house where in the day the owner of the house might show his wears. Quick walking over to the roofed doorway Ionathan assured the maids that they were safe and awaited his companions. Relying of his bright coloured tabard to show his position to anyone meeting at the front of the house he watched as the noises from the cottage mixed with the sound of the rain. | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,767 | 1,527 | 103 | 276 | 729 | After Ionathan ran past her, Regina watched to see what the others would do for a couple seconds. She didn't stay, however, choosing to follow Ionathan, only to lose him when he entered his room. She slid to a stop, looking around. "What's taking him so long?" she asked, looking at the door. She was about ready to try to knock the door from its hinges, only to see the man open it and run to where Ajax's room was. It was then she saw his idea. She watched as he jumped through the hole in the wall, sticking his landing. She took a few steps back before running, landing with a roll, using her momentum to continue running. She joined Ionathan by the maids, taking the time to rest against the wall. She was soon asleep, snoring softly. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,768 | 1,527 | 104 | 2,426 | 2,292 | I believe this is important. Shall we leave, then? Someone carry our host, I would rather not put her too near whatever this is.
Gritting her jaws in the windstorm, the bits of dust and debris whipping around her with some plinking off the scarred breastplate encasing her chest, Sakaala only narrowly managed to hear the titan of a man as he hefted his claimed prize with ease. She nodded, powerful teeth and maw still clenched while she set a tremendous palm to the knap of Lady Genevieve's robes, drawing her up to her feet and then over her shoulder whilst shoving aside bits of the fallen structure; positioning her over the left, she shuddered with a snarly, powerful tone as the torrent of rain set in upon her - of which was further stirred by the golden, wisp filled wind. Soaking her to the bone once again, she paused, but briefly...
With a motion of her head, she beckoned the other arcanist - an ally, for the time being - whilst standing beside the escape he had widened from burst window into tremendous gape in the house.
"I will be awaiting you." She said authoritatively before turning about and stepping off the ledge.
She fell, but the vortex absorbed much, if not all the impact and as she landed, the worst that came with the fall was the jar of the woman she carried; strong arm still wrapped about her as the numb one hung by her waist instead. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,769 | 1,527 | 105 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax clutched his prize firmly, fingers a deadly vice. The house, sensing its master riding away on the storm and its most valuable posession in the hands of an unknown while another forced sought to supress it, redoubled its attacks and seeming self destruction with great vigor. Pieces of the walls, floors and roofs erupted in sprays of shrapnel while supporting beams snapped down like fangs, pieces of fabric from tapestries and carpeting animated into slithering tongues and decorative objects morphed into malignant orbs as the structure shook and warped into itself fueled by things Ajax could not understand.
He had half a mind to go to work on the accursed place, as though it were a living, conscious enemy he could force to regret ever messing with him, but it was not the time. With a grunt, Ajax stomped down on a rising plank and tugged violently at one of the long strips of fabric wrapping itself around his arm, intent on tearing it clean off as he turned towards Isabeau. "Looks like we're the only ones left, aside from him. Lets see what all this is about, shall we?" he said as he took a step back then jumped right off the house. Something curious happened to his descent, however.
Rather than being caught by the wind, as the mage had intended, Ajax's body broke right through it and his 300 pound mass careened towards the floor like a catapult's projectile. His powerful legs, and the rain-softened soil, helped break his impact as he landed with a resounding crash and an explosion of mud that sprayed all around. He rolled through the mire himself, to further reduce any ill effects the drop might've had, and quickly bolted to his feet. He was covered in muck head to toe, but he still held the crux of this whole matter in his hand. "Easy come, easy go", he muttered while thinking about his recent bath. | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,770 | 1,527 | 106 | 1,054 | 1,812 | She had given herself away and ran into the room all for nothing, it had seemed. Grumbles and grunts and growls escaped her as she rose to her feet, along with a string of vulgarities. The house was determined to take them all down, and one look at Genevieve told her all that she needed to know.
Taking a brief moment, she gazed upon the old witch, the wrinkled skin riddled with age spots and decay, and the once luxurious head of hair turned dull and grey. Assuming the hat the talisman did this, Isabeau started to wonder the nature of the item, her thoughts returning to the moment atop the hill when the Magi had revealed it. It seemed to only have positive effects on her.
Her thoughts were cut short as the beast woman lifted the frail figure from the floor.
Her own face contorted with a nagging thought. The beast woman had Genevieve, and Ajax had the artifact. She had no doubt that he might have his own agenda, but the feeling of failure trailed down her spine and clutched at her stomach. Despite how well things could go, she knew that this was only the beginning to a long and hard road. A road that would force her to face Regina, something she had been dreading for years now.
Attempting to not be all doom and gloom, she turned to the Magi and muttered "With any luck, this can still go our way."
Reluctantly, she jumped from the window ledge, allowing the vortex to carry her down safely. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,771 | 1,527 | 107 | 2,620 | 2,551 | Emil managed to keep his balance as the structure beneath them began to rumble- there must have been magic supporting the integrity of this structure. Regardless, Sakaala began ripping open a way out, but not before advising him and Ionathan to reacquire their belongings. Emil had almost pointed out that it was unlikely they'd be able to run back into their rooms to retrieve their belongings in time, but that was before he realized that Sakaala's spell still affected him and that his speed was near surreal. Giving the group a breathless nod, Emil sprung off and barreled towards his bedroom.
Skidding into the room, rapidly, pumping his feet to slow down his momentum, he took a quick stock of his belongings. The shaking of the building had moved them from their previous location, but Emil had piled his armor and arms by the foot of his bed, so they all remained in the relative same area. Emil sighed in frustration- he had a lot of armor pieces, and even with his speed, he was unsure if he'd be able to don all of them before the building fell around him. Emil quickly pulled on his mail shirt and overtunic, and donned his breastplate, clasping the buckles enough to secure them on his person, but not bothering to tighten them around his body. He clasped the armor around his boots, and threw the rest of the armor pieces into a rucksack.
Emil slipped the rucksack over his shoulder, grabbed his sword and shield, and prepared to exit the room. Poking his head out the door, Emil's face paled- he forgot how large this building was, and he wasn't certain the way to the door. Not to mention that the ceiling had already begun collapsing in the hall around him. How was he going to make it to the door without getting crushed by rubble if he didn't know the way? Quickly returning to his room, Emil took a moment looking around. Sprinting to the window, Emil glanced out, and saw the roof of the stables off in the distance below him. Under normal circumstances, that would've been an impossible jump for a human- but Emil had Sakaala's magic powering him.
Steeling himself, Emil whispered an apology and swung his arm forward, using his shield to shatter the window. Taking a few steps back Emil gave himself a running start and dived through the window. Propelled by immense momentum granted to him by magic, Emil watched the ground run underneath him as he tumbled through the air and onto the roof of the stables.
Which were considerably less durable than he thought.
The roof of the stables gave away like paper underneath the momentum of a partially armor knight propelled by magic like a siege weapon. Crashing through the roof, Emil landed with a thud- half embedded within a thick bale of hay. Groaning in pain, Emil gingerly peeled himself out of the hay bale, and popped a dislocated shoulder back into place. Making his way through the stables, picking hay out of his head, Emil found his horse Roark and quickly mounted the steed, whom despite the chaos, seemed perfectly calm.
With a quick kick, Emil guided Roark out to the outskirts of the home, where Ionathan stood waiting with his colorful tabard standing out in the landscape like a beacon. Regina was there as well, and sat dozing off against a wall. Emil gave Ionathan a breathless greeting, taking a moment to catch his breath before he pulled the rest of the armor out of his rucksack and began putting them on. | Name: Emil Erran
Species: Human
Age: 18
Description:
Emil is a young man standing in at about 5'10" in height, with the build of an athlete- or at least one used to continuous physical exertion. While not the pinnacle of strength and endurance, Emil is in good fighting shape, and his body is sinewy and lithe. He has a few scars on his body- though none of them are from combat. His eyes are a deep green, and his blonde hair is typically short and out of the way. His typical attire is a deep blue tunic, with thick trousers, and well worn leather boots and gloves. In combat, he wears a cuirass to protect his upper chest, while still allowing him full range of motion while mounted, reinforced with tough leather, along with armor on his boots, sides, shoulders and forearms.
Personality:
Warm and kind-hearted, Emil is a modest young knight with a strong sense of morality and justice. This level headed knight tries his best to stay brave and rational in the face of hardship and adversity, despite his inexperience. Due to his young age, Emil is rather impressionable, and expresses a desire to learn various skills and tricks from the older veterans, though is often self conscious about his lesser skills when compared to that of the more experienced members of the group. Honest and trustworthy, Emil is compassionate and kind, if a little shy and soft-spoken. Loyal to a fault, Emil is more than willing to risk himself for the sake of others, and goes to great lengths to defend his loved ones. A very down to earth and grounded individual, Emil's calm and generally positive demeanor, while occasionally bordering on naivety, bolsters the spirits of those around him.
Skills/Abilities:
As a young Knight, Emil is well trained in multiple martial skills, but lacks field experience. He has fought alongside his lord-knight, while still a squire and is no stranger to battle, but is not what one would call a veteran. While young, and not as capable of an armsman as the rest of his older peers, Emil possesses worldly knowledge and skills unexpected from one his age, and is knowledgeable of a variety of skills in various fields.
--- Martial Skills ---
Adept Swordsmanship - As the son of a knight, and a knight himself, Emil has received martial training in various fields, and is capable with many weapons, but shows the most promise with a sword. Skilled enough to face down a common soldier or an untrained fighter and coming out no worse for wear, Emil struggles against more hardened and experienced foes.
Journeyman Spearmanship - Along with his swordsmanship, Emil has received training with the spear and lance, though it is clear he shows a preference to the sword. His stance and form are solid, and the spear is by nature, an easy weapon to pick up and use. He lacks the refinement of a master spearman, but can still use it with relative effectiveness.
Journeyman Archery - Alongside his other martial skills, Emil has also been trained in the use of the bow and arrow. He is neither particularly fast, nor particularly accurate with the bow, and is for all intents and purposes, average. He does slightly better with a crossbow, and primarily utilizes this skill for hunting.
Journeyman Horseback Riding - As a knight, Emil is trained on how to ride a horse, take care of a horse, and fight from a horse, though it is clear that he would prefer to do combat while on the ground. Stamina stemming from his youthfulness allows him to ride for hours without considerable exhaustion.
Trained Armor use - Years of training have taught Emil how to quickly don and remove plate armor, and can thus move with more dexterity and quickness than one without training would be able to. He is also well versed on the care of plate armor.
Trained Shield use - Several years of training has shown Emil how to properly brace and use a shield to block and deflect blows. As he is not the largest presence on the battlefield, when faced with larger foes, Emil primarily relies on deflecting and sidestepping enemy blows rather than attempting to completely stop or black oncoming attacks
--- Trade Skills ---
Journeyman Cooking - While not a master chef by any meaning of the word, Emil is resourceful and can cook a variety of meals with what little resources are often available while in the field.
Journeyman Surgery/First Aid - Unable to treat wounds via magic, Emil has been trained and is experienced with treating a variety of minor and moderate wounds, and is even capable of some surgery for more serious wounds. These treatments are not magic, and do not mend wounds instantly- nor do they guarantee the successful mending of wounds, but can serve to stave off death until more experienced doctors or healers can provide aid.
Journeyman Crafting - From tailoring and needlework, to leather-working, Emil, while not particularly amazing at any craftsman's trade, is skilled enough to make field repairs to clothing and armor.
Magic
Emil has no skill or control over magic, though it appears that he may have the affinity for magic. He views magic with suspicion and a small amount of fear, and while he has accepted magic as a facet of life, he is still unnerved by it.
Backstory:
The city of Edessa is a fair sized city-state located along the coast of __(mainland continent neighboring Silver Lily Isles)__. Edessa is a constitutional monarchy led primarily by the King, and a group of senators. It is not a major military power, but is known for its high quality knights and sturdy and reliable trade ships, and also contributed a large portion of its forces Mage-Wars decades ago. Edessa, due to its proximity to the Silver Lily Isles, often trades with the settlements on the Isle, most notably Waeldeshore. Edessa and Waeldeshore have built a rather positive trade relationship over the past two decades, and ships bearing Edessan flags are common in Waeldeshore and vice versa.
Emil, youngest son of the Erran family, comes from a long line of Edessan Knights. Emil, like the rest of his brothers were introduced to the lifestyle of a knight at a young age, and were immersed in their culture from the moment he could walk. The son of a Edessan Knight and his wife, Emil and his brothers were well educated at a young age and were taught manners as well as basic martial skills and knowledges as children. Throughout their childhood, Emil and his brothers would often venture into the city to play with other children. Emil made friends easily, and was known for his gentle and sensitive demeanor, while the rest of his brothers were respected for their various other qualities.
As they Erran children grew older, they were trained in the ways of various weapons, such as the spear and sword, and were trained in horsemanship and riding. After his seventh birthday, Emil was apprenticed to another noble family to serve as a page, where he would begin to further refine horsemanship and swordsmanship as well as learn the intricacies of reading and writing. A naturally perceptive and relatively intelligent child, Emil was treated well by his host family, and learned much under their tutelage.
The Knights of Edessa, or the Edessan Knights as many know them as, are an order of knights based in the city of Edessa. These knights are tasked with serving and protecting the people of Edessa, and often promote humanitarian movements to hunting monsters in the surrounding areas. These stalwart warriors are well known for both their valor and martial skill, despite their relatively small numbers. Every male member of the Erran family had been an Edessan Knight at one point in their life. Emil's brother is among the famed members of the Edessan Knights, and one of the King's personal guards. Each of Emil's brothers has already entered service in the order.
As he turned 14, he became squire to a famed Edessan Knight, where he furthered his training, continuing his work on bladesmanship and horsemanship, as well as learning archery, music, speech, and skills befitting a young knight. Here he learned how to take care of, and maintain armor, how to tend horses and treat wounds. The next several years were difficult, his knight was fair, but strict, and offered him nothing but the most difficult challenges to face.
Now a fresh 18 years old, Emil's journey to become a full fledged knight of Edessan has been completed, and Emil undertakes his first few journeys as his own knight. A message from the Great Sage Genevieve of Waeldeshore gives Emil his first taste of an adventure that he can call his own.
Possessions, Equipment, Weapons:
Father's Sword - A gift given to Emil by his father, upon his recent knighting. The sword is forged from Dwarven Steel- a special dwarven metallurgy technique that results in a tougher, denser, more durable steel. The blade is old and worn from use, but still remains a reliable weapon. A shorter than average bastard sword, it is light and maneuverable enough to be held in one hand, but its two handed grip makes it able to be wielded with two.
Common Spear - A 6 foot pole of ash wood, with a steel tip attached. One of the most common personal weapons in the world, this weapon is easily used, and easily replaced. Able to be wielded with one hand, but most effective with two.
Shortbow & Quiver - A short yew bow meant for hunting. Plain and simple, without any sort of frills, other than leather wrapping around the grip. A wooden and leather quiver contains 20 arrows. Both are typically stored on the outer saddlebags of Emil's horse.
Heater Shield - A mid-sized shield with the Erran family coat of arms emblazoned across it. It is a lightweight metal shield that can be strapped to the forearm and secured with the hand. It has a leather strap that allows it to be slung over the shoulder/worn over the back.
Edessan Half Plate - a cut down suit of plate armor generally utilized by mounted Edessan knights and soldiers. Plates protect major parts of the body, while the rest of the body is protected with tough leather and mail under a tunic. This is to allow light weight, and greater mobility while mounted. The benefits confer to foot combat as well.
Roark, Horse - A well bred, multi-purpose horse ridden by Emil. Roark is a calm, well mannered horse, that doesn't scare easily. Roark wears boiled leather barding(armor) on his face, neck, and body. The barding is lightweight, and can protect Roark from glancing blows but doesn't provide much protection elsewise. Its still better than nothing, Emil argues. Roark also has saddlebags on his sides and behind the saddle.
Roark's saddlebags contain: A pair of leather waterskins, a small pouch with money, a tinderbox, lines and tackle for fishing, a small iron bowl for cooking, a small hatchet for wood gathering, a small knife and whetstone, a length of rope (approx. 30 feet), a spool of fine thread and needle, a roll of clean cloth and bottle of spirits for cleaning and treating wounds, a pouch of herbal ointment, a lantern with several spare candles, a few days worth of provisions for Emil as well as his horse. Behind the saddle is a blanket and spare clothes are wrapped in a roll of canvas. |
55,772 | 1,527 | 108 | 179 | 5,559 | The mage barely paid any attention to anything beyond waiting for the room to clear out and keeping his golem form from literally melting on the spot, distance from his physical form, magical limitations and the house fighting tooth and nail taking a toll he would be wise to no longer continue. He felt his enchantment fail on at least one person to leave, but there was little he could do about that. All he could think about was how everyone was so damn slow about leaving.
It was finally down to one he could see, even as everything behind his eyes rapidly melted, careful humanoid golem creation turning into goo on the insides while presenting a relatively normal external appearance. He would have told Isabeau something along the lines of "shut up and leave it" if he hadn't been more focused on keeping the weight of the entire house together, an effort that was taxing to his spiritual energy even as he burned his way through the reserves of the talisman. He let go as Isabeau left, removing himself from the golem as all went black.
There was what seemed to be a great roar as the cottage tore itself apart, windows shattering outwards and rooms flattening in on themselves as the structure exacted revenge on the mage that had kept it together for so long. While the magic of the cottage was still very much embedded in the new ruin, the magic of the mage was not; all that remained of his presence was the distinct odd feeling of the yellow talisman now buried within the wreckage.
He came to with a deep gasp, falling off a carefully arranged bed-like structure in his brown Magi robes engraved in runes that were now smoking hot. Positioned not far from the cave entry, he crawled out to lay in the rain just by a steep ledge for a short while, slowly bringing his thoughts together. House... falling apart as he disconnected from the golem. The sage... probably survived. The group she had assembled, out - as to why he provided a quick exit for them, he wasn't sure. He knew his magic had failed to give one a smooth landing, but he doubted they weren't well off.
He was probably dead. The rain offered no suggestions as he decided he had best change that perspective. He was greatly weakened, having used his magic over a distance farther than he should have. Though his body had done nothing physical, every bone ached as he picked himself off the rocks, caring not for the rain that had now soaked him entirely. Even with the rain he was toasty inside the robes.
The mage walked down the many rocks towards the village that lay a good distance ahead. Under normal circumstances he could be there in a few minutes, but he figured it would take a little longer than that. Of the plans he could make on the spot, he didn't count overexertion as one of them. He would probably try and communicate with the Order at some point. All in due time; he was already well off the beaten path in that regard. | Known information about characters played by ArenaSnow goes here. Select a hider to see more...
Stuff will change over time, especially following a post where I introduce someone or something.
I use "he" a lot from habit. If I'm using vaguespeech, it could be either way.
Zargon & Company
Zargon's a name known to anyone who has heard of the events of Waeldeshore and is described as being a massive, powerful demon with command over many other demons. He is considered by many academics a massive danger and can use a wide variety of powers; some have claimed he can even see any place in the world he wants, although this is doubtful and most likely just rumor (although more learned academics would say it is a possibility). He dropped off the radar after engaging in a losing battle against the original heros of Waeleshore. Said heros would feel a very familiar presence if his taint is around...
OOC: He was a primary antagonist of the previous Rp. Will he return? Maybe. If he does, just be careful.
Chandon
To original heros in the town of Waeldeshore that witnissed the fall of Artholath, the only mention of him is "Damn you Chandon" as the demon fell. Those with knowledge of ancient lore associate the name Chandon with a demon known for being mysterious, holding some degree of high end power (specifics unknown), and being a destroyer of old knowledge. Guessed to be a high end demon, but not confirmed, even by many demons. Most people simply don't know the name at all. Ancient demon lore says he has the powers of higher level demons, can shapeshift and can teleport. An old lorebook that some sages and high end magic users have old copies of describes him as taking the form of a female with one human blue eye to the left, with the right eye being a shifting mass of grey with a red center. One distinct ability he is said to have is cloaking; concealing his demonic power completely so that others around cannot tell the difference.
OOC: He was mentioned in the last RP. It is possible he will have a presence this time by extension.
The Necromancer
Little is known about him (her?), save the tales of undead swarming towns to the southwest and rumors associating various guessed identities of rogue necromancers and mages with these swarms.
OOC: Not the focus of the roleplay... right now. He's pretty far south and the Jarjestys Magi has already sent mages to combat him, so it's not your fight. Although that isn't to say it couldn't be.
Aldur
It is said that the archangel Aldur from ancient legends came to Ioannes and gave him the Mark of the Third Order, said to be the last angelic blessing given to any mortal. Ioannes was a man who helped save the town of Waeldeshore from destruction at the hands of Zargon who proceeded to revolutionize the governance of Giray and help set the course for a shifting of power. Ioannes then proceeded to vanish 10 years ago... and hasn't been seen since.
OOC: You? Meet an Archangel? It's like asking if you're going to be struck by lightning during the course of the roleplay... hmm. Maybe that wasn't the best comparison in a roleplay with demons and mages and magic.
Kaephael
Kaephael was an angel that according to legend fell to corruption and was banished, and has been wandering the mortal realm since. Another legend says this same angel lost his sword... somewhere, and has been looking for it for thousands of years and cannot return to the angelic realm until he finds it.
OOC: Just legends. Who says I can't put legends into a post that has all my main characters in it?
To be made known. Soon. |
55,773 | 1,527 | 109 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The cacophony of the collapsing dwelling just beyond filled the air with an unnatural shuddering that was not associated with the pattering rain fall or the dripping, really pouring water that ran down the seasoned warrior's armored cjest; torn robe drenched and heavy now, was concealed in part only by the figure of the aged, greyed woman she brandished over her shoulder. There was little care or hesitation in her next action, for the moment Isabeau's feet splashed into the water washed churned mud, the sizable figure turned about with a blur - managing to have drawn the fierce elven blade in a single motion from her back. The deathly edge challenged the woman as it rested straight out; not even the slightest of give in the beast woman's arm... that of which could not feel sensation, not even fatigue.
"You." The animal jaws parted, rainwater running down the edges and over the exposed, whitened fangs.
More glass bent, broke and exploded inward as the last of the house consumed itself while the thundering of hooves and the sky above kept on. Both eyes, blind and sighted, shifted for a moment, assessing their numbers on each front - Regina Hills survived, as did Sir Hepburnberg and clearly Sir Erran atop a steed. Diagorides, soaked in mud, still clenched his prize in a mighty hand but was not so much as bloodied or even out of breath. The only one unaccounted for was the invading mage himself, but the old huntress doubted a wizard of that power was truly lost.
Shifting slightly her stance, she balanced Lady Genevieve's drenched body as the effects of the hastening spell faded from her leonine figure.
"I care not really for which you choose, but explain yourself or leave. I am done with these games brought on by the words of mere men, and more importantly, your quarry is ours." She snarled in her husky tone, the weapon level and not giving in the slightest - readied to action.
Everything in her demeanor was a marked deterrent and the chaos of the past few minutes tried her patience with mortals as a whole. They wielded the magic they had all just witnessed with such wild abandon that she was still impressed to this day not more of them had paid with their lives. And this "witchling", "assassin", or what have you, she only further convinced the monster of a woman that enough was enough. Either she and her new band were taking their employer away from here - with good reason - or the Order's agents were to explained themselves why not.
"So I advise you choose your next action most wisely." She leaned her head in at an angle, soaking ears flat to her skull. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,774 | 1,527 | 110 | 1,054 | 1,812 | What staff there actually were, found themselves quickly out of harms way. Standing side by side to those who were summoned guests just hours earlier. But to any who may have paid attention to the faces of those gathered, several were missing. The brunette who showed them in and later led them upstairs to their quarters, several of the maids who had brought the travelers food and drink. And lastly, the young woman who had led Diagorides to the secret passage. None of their faces were among those who had escaped. There should have been time for all living beings to flee the house before it fell, yet those crucial faces were not among the survivors. Had the house gobbled them up as well?
Isabeau landed softly on her feet, despite the impact her heels made in the ground. Within an instant of her land, there was a blade angled at her throat. She should have expected as much, but the truth of it was, her thoughts were on everyone else. She had never met the beast woman before, though her experience back in Waeldeshore taught her never to underestimate. What could she possibly say though, to gain this woman's trust?
She might have answered, she would have answered. But the moment she opened her mouth to do so, the entire house gave way and collapsed into a heaping pile of rubble and soot. A large crash shook the ground, and distracted them all long enough for Isabeau to turn her thoughts to other things. She wasn't much worried about the Magi, she knew he wasn't truly there. But there was one thing that did stick out in her mind ... the talisman.
Turning her back on such a beast just might be a very big mistake, but she did it anyway. However, she indulged an answer as she moved about the rubble. "She was using you all.", she stole a glance at Ajax before continuing, "Even the blind can see, the woman is downright sinister." She stepped closer to the splintered wooden planks and large stone boulders. "I would keep a safe distance away from that stone, good sir.", pointing towards the prize that Ajax clutched so dear. "It would make even the most noble of men turn into greedy, wretched little green goblins.
She looked up at the sky, then gazed around the rubble, lifting piece by piece, sifting around what she could see in the dark. It was here, she knew it was. Standing among the ruin, she could feel it. "I am not the one responsible for this, though I doubt you would care. But I am sure it would be interesting to know that it was your host herself who caused the house to come down. And look at her now, enchantments of youth washed away ...." The pull the artifact had on her was intoxicating, which was dangerous in itself. But she couldn't just leave it there, not when anyone else could find it if they looked. It was near, and it was buried well. She was waste deep in the wreckage of the once tall house, and would have spent all night there looking if she had to. She pondered a moment ... Would it be so horrible of me to ask for help?. She wouldn't dare it though, not just yet. "I had only come to warn you, and to retrieve what is in that box." she shouted to them all, disappearing into the darkness of the fallen structure. Shards of glass could be heard cracking beneath her heel, planks of wood shuffled around, and she grunted and growled as she tried with all of her might to move the large stones out of her way. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,775 | 1,527 | 111 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax palmed some of the mud off himself, watching with obvious interest as the manor finally collapsed atop himself while Isabeau was held at swordpoint by Skaala. He was, in many ways, a very simple man and still derived enjoyment from meaningless, wanton destruction even when he wasn't causing it. His life had been truly chaotic, it was all he knew by this point and he felt very comfortable in it. He shrugged his shoulders at the whole situation, still making sure to grasp whatever it was he had taken out of the house quite firmly. Nobody was going to be pulling any fast ones on him, and he'd be getting rid of it soon enough.
"Far be it from me to be overly trusting, which is exactly why I have to agree with the woman", he turned to the group and cocked an eyebrow. "You all didn't really trust our host...did you? With that talk about bringing her the heads of her enemies and the arcane artifacts and clear obsession...". He didn't know what to say beyond that. He thought it self-evident, but maybe their prior adventures didn't let them see the obvious? Even then, he figured the beastwoman would know better. "I mean look at her now. I don't know about you but I don't particularly trust someone that deceives me with glamours".
And then it hit him, something wasn't adding up. "No, wait, get back here woman" he said firmly at Isabeau. He was starting to get tired of this whole thing. "You came to retrieve something. I thought that something was whatever it is I'm holding. It'll turn me into a wretched little goblin you said, though honestly I rather doubt it". He squeezed the stone in his grip even tighter, as if he considered trying to crush it with his hand alone, before giving it a rest. | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,776 | 1,527 | 112 | 2,426 | 2,292 | Yes, Diagorides, I am more than aware the woman is mad beyond her years - addled by the power her and other mortals think they can contain, let alone wield. She spared the burly man her scornful gaze because of his obvious skepticism in the whole matter, well evidenced throughout this night from the start, "One of many reasons I dared not agree to what it was she wished us to, but I swore to hunt this 'demon' and to that end I will."
"No, wait, get back here woman."
The man interjected appropriately before the swordswoman stepped in to on her own. This was tiresome and she was having none of it anymore; unburdening her shoulder from the paled figure of Lady Genevieve, she set the woman down upon her side. Storm and mud or not, she could care less because the other enemy seemed to have an objective remaining and was less than cooperative. What little was clear on this storm wracked night was that the human was clearly indifferent to the threat of death; an entire group of adventurers ranging from battle hardened knights, experienced mercenaries and psionically gifted smallfolk, the last of which undoubtedly would soon be calling for her blood.
"So help me, if you take another step I will not be so polite - I will be as vicious a monster as I appear." Sakaala's lips quivered with the restrained anger of a queen insulted; the raw audacity this woman had to think herself able to speak to them in such a manner as though everything she had just said was not plainly evident by itself.
"Your warning came far too late and even now you clearly preoccupy yourself with other matters." The blade shook slightly before she steadied it with the other hand, water careening down its silvery steel, dripping over the tightly bound handguard and her massive pawed hands.
"Clear and concise, explain yourself... or leave."
There was going to be no warning after that; the ultimatum was set and lengthy tales were not going to do her well. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,777 | 1,527 | 113 | 1,054 | 1,812 | She took one step further in the rubble before stopping with an audible sigh. The rain was crawling to a halt and by this time seemed only a light drizzle. She pulled down her hood and stared up at the beast woman, her face twisted in contemplation.
"Well ... it all started on a sunny aftertoon in the town of Waeldeshore ...", her words dripped with sarcasm and a smirk tugged at the edge of her lips. But for only just a moment. "What is it that you're looking for? What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you how many years ago we had acquired that very stone for your dear hostess.", she pointed to the prize Ajax held onto proudly."And how it corrupted her, and turned her soul green with envy, black with greed and a bottomless appetite to feed. She had sent me to find the third and final key. It started out as a wild goose chase. But I found it alright. And when I returned to share my findings, she nearly cut me in two. So when I refused any additional information, I was a guest in her dungeons for days ... until I was able to escape of course. I seek to destroy the damn things, but it turns out, it is not as easy as one might think. And when the wench decides to gather a group to take back what I had stolen, well, apparently I'm supposed to just sit back and let you come and kill me."
She turned once more, returning to her search for the artifact. "I do hope that is a sufficient explanation, if not, I'm not sure what else to tell you. The demons do exist, and they are certainly a nasty bunch. But the theory is that if we are able to destroy the stones, it will eliminate any passage between realms. So once we eliminate the demons, there is no coming back.", she continued to ramble on while sifting through the ruins. "But when" she grunted, the color draining from her as she used whatever strength she had left to lift the stones in her way, "does anything go as planned"
She glanced up, her eyes resting on the beast woman for a moment, noting any reaction, then turned to Ajax. "Hey handsome, you mind helping me with this? It seems my friend dropped his amulet on his way out. I would like very much to give it back to him, but I can't seem to get it with all of this in my way." She leaned on a nearby boulder, exhausted, she claimed defeat in the battle against the immovable object. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,778 | 1,527 | 114 | 2,620 | 2,551 | Emil had finished donning the rest of his armor, as the house collapsed. Now secure in his protective armor, Emil felt more confident and equipped to handle the challenges to come. Unlike dress-armor the Edessan knights used for ceremony, Emil's battle armor a dull pale blue with little gloss and reflected little light. His armor clinked slightly as he moved, the chainmail underneath his tunic and armor rustling against itself as he rode forward to meet Sakaala and Ajax, whom, despite the rain and mud, were unmaimed. Not that Emil worried too much about their safety, for Ajax and Sakaala seemed to be by far some of the most durable and mettled of their merry little group.
Sakaala bore with her Lady Genevieve, and Ajax bore with him a small sack- bearing some sort of rigid object of importance that seemed to be the root of a majority of their troubles. Ajax seemed prepare to crush the contents of the magical sack in his fist, and Emil, as wary as he was with magic, was tempted to agree with the man. Alongside them was another woman, whom was immediately threatened by both Sakaala and Ajax, one wielding blade, and the other wielding, well, himself. Despite the threat of two powerful beings, the woman appeared unperturbed, turning her back not once, but twice on Sakaala and spoke in story even when prompted to speak clearly.
"She does not appear to be very good at following instructions." Emil mused aloud as he reached Sakaala and Ajax. "I also agree that Lady Genevieve appears- appeared... unwell- and not just because she's currently indisposed." Emil was quiet, still reluctant to fully believe that one of the legends of Waeldeshore had been completely corrupted. But of course, legends were at their heart just stories- the Halfling, while possessing powerful control in her own right was neither tall nor messianic as the story suggested, and was infact rather flighty and aggressive. Even Sir Hepenburg, while still deserving of all his respect did not match the stately, regal figure that the stories portrayed him to be.
Emil too rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, if Sakaala was ready to bear her blade on the woman, she must have had some degree of threat about her.
"She sure enjoys her dramatic flair, to say the least" Emil added, "And as much as I enjoy stories, I too would like some specificity in regards to this dark artifact. However, with everything being said, would it not be simpler to have Ajax just crush the thing in his hands? He definitely appears capable of such a feat." | Name: Emil Erran
Species: Human
Age: 18
Description:
Emil is a young man standing in at about 5'10" in height, with the build of an athlete- or at least one used to continuous physical exertion. While not the pinnacle of strength and endurance, Emil is in good fighting shape, and his body is sinewy and lithe. He has a few scars on his body- though none of them are from combat. His eyes are a deep green, and his blonde hair is typically short and out of the way. His typical attire is a deep blue tunic, with thick trousers, and well worn leather boots and gloves. In combat, he wears a cuirass to protect his upper chest, while still allowing him full range of motion while mounted, reinforced with tough leather, along with armor on his boots, sides, shoulders and forearms.
Personality:
Warm and kind-hearted, Emil is a modest young knight with a strong sense of morality and justice. This level headed knight tries his best to stay brave and rational in the face of hardship and adversity, despite his inexperience. Due to his young age, Emil is rather impressionable, and expresses a desire to learn various skills and tricks from the older veterans, though is often self conscious about his lesser skills when compared to that of the more experienced members of the group. Honest and trustworthy, Emil is compassionate and kind, if a little shy and soft-spoken. Loyal to a fault, Emil is more than willing to risk himself for the sake of others, and goes to great lengths to defend his loved ones. A very down to earth and grounded individual, Emil's calm and generally positive demeanor, while occasionally bordering on naivety, bolsters the spirits of those around him.
Skills/Abilities:
As a young Knight, Emil is well trained in multiple martial skills, but lacks field experience. He has fought alongside his lord-knight, while still a squire and is no stranger to battle, but is not what one would call a veteran. While young, and not as capable of an armsman as the rest of his older peers, Emil possesses worldly knowledge and skills unexpected from one his age, and is knowledgeable of a variety of skills in various fields.
--- Martial Skills ---
Adept Swordsmanship - As the son of a knight, and a knight himself, Emil has received martial training in various fields, and is capable with many weapons, but shows the most promise with a sword. Skilled enough to face down a common soldier or an untrained fighter and coming out no worse for wear, Emil struggles against more hardened and experienced foes.
Journeyman Spearmanship - Along with his swordsmanship, Emil has received training with the spear and lance, though it is clear he shows a preference to the sword. His stance and form are solid, and the spear is by nature, an easy weapon to pick up and use. He lacks the refinement of a master spearman, but can still use it with relative effectiveness.
Journeyman Archery - Alongside his other martial skills, Emil has also been trained in the use of the bow and arrow. He is neither particularly fast, nor particularly accurate with the bow, and is for all intents and purposes, average. He does slightly better with a crossbow, and primarily utilizes this skill for hunting.
Journeyman Horseback Riding - As a knight, Emil is trained on how to ride a horse, take care of a horse, and fight from a horse, though it is clear that he would prefer to do combat while on the ground. Stamina stemming from his youthfulness allows him to ride for hours without considerable exhaustion.
Trained Armor use - Years of training have taught Emil how to quickly don and remove plate armor, and can thus move with more dexterity and quickness than one without training would be able to. He is also well versed on the care of plate armor.
Trained Shield use - Several years of training has shown Emil how to properly brace and use a shield to block and deflect blows. As he is not the largest presence on the battlefield, when faced with larger foes, Emil primarily relies on deflecting and sidestepping enemy blows rather than attempting to completely stop or black oncoming attacks
--- Trade Skills ---
Journeyman Cooking - While not a master chef by any meaning of the word, Emil is resourceful and can cook a variety of meals with what little resources are often available while in the field.
Journeyman Surgery/First Aid - Unable to treat wounds via magic, Emil has been trained and is experienced with treating a variety of minor and moderate wounds, and is even capable of some surgery for more serious wounds. These treatments are not magic, and do not mend wounds instantly- nor do they guarantee the successful mending of wounds, but can serve to stave off death until more experienced doctors or healers can provide aid.
Journeyman Crafting - From tailoring and needlework, to leather-working, Emil, while not particularly amazing at any craftsman's trade, is skilled enough to make field repairs to clothing and armor.
Magic
Emil has no skill or control over magic, though it appears that he may have the affinity for magic. He views magic with suspicion and a small amount of fear, and while he has accepted magic as a facet of life, he is still unnerved by it.
Backstory:
The city of Edessa is a fair sized city-state located along the coast of __(mainland continent neighboring Silver Lily Isles)__. Edessa is a constitutional monarchy led primarily by the King, and a group of senators. It is not a major military power, but is known for its high quality knights and sturdy and reliable trade ships, and also contributed a large portion of its forces Mage-Wars decades ago. Edessa, due to its proximity to the Silver Lily Isles, often trades with the settlements on the Isle, most notably Waeldeshore. Edessa and Waeldeshore have built a rather positive trade relationship over the past two decades, and ships bearing Edessan flags are common in Waeldeshore and vice versa.
Emil, youngest son of the Erran family, comes from a long line of Edessan Knights. Emil, like the rest of his brothers were introduced to the lifestyle of a knight at a young age, and were immersed in their culture from the moment he could walk. The son of a Edessan Knight and his wife, Emil and his brothers were well educated at a young age and were taught manners as well as basic martial skills and knowledges as children. Throughout their childhood, Emil and his brothers would often venture into the city to play with other children. Emil made friends easily, and was known for his gentle and sensitive demeanor, while the rest of his brothers were respected for their various other qualities.
As they Erran children grew older, they were trained in the ways of various weapons, such as the spear and sword, and were trained in horsemanship and riding. After his seventh birthday, Emil was apprenticed to another noble family to serve as a page, where he would begin to further refine horsemanship and swordsmanship as well as learn the intricacies of reading and writing. A naturally perceptive and relatively intelligent child, Emil was treated well by his host family, and learned much under their tutelage.
The Knights of Edessa, or the Edessan Knights as many know them as, are an order of knights based in the city of Edessa. These knights are tasked with serving and protecting the people of Edessa, and often promote humanitarian movements to hunting monsters in the surrounding areas. These stalwart warriors are well known for both their valor and martial skill, despite their relatively small numbers. Every male member of the Erran family had been an Edessan Knight at one point in their life. Emil's brother is among the famed members of the Edessan Knights, and one of the King's personal guards. Each of Emil's brothers has already entered service in the order.
As he turned 14, he became squire to a famed Edessan Knight, where he furthered his training, continuing his work on bladesmanship and horsemanship, as well as learning archery, music, speech, and skills befitting a young knight. Here he learned how to take care of, and maintain armor, how to tend horses and treat wounds. The next several years were difficult, his knight was fair, but strict, and offered him nothing but the most difficult challenges to face.
Now a fresh 18 years old, Emil's journey to become a full fledged knight of Edessan has been completed, and Emil undertakes his first few journeys as his own knight. A message from the Great Sage Genevieve of Waeldeshore gives Emil his first taste of an adventure that he can call his own.
Possessions, Equipment, Weapons:
Father's Sword - A gift given to Emil by his father, upon his recent knighting. The sword is forged from Dwarven Steel- a special dwarven metallurgy technique that results in a tougher, denser, more durable steel. The blade is old and worn from use, but still remains a reliable weapon. A shorter than average bastard sword, it is light and maneuverable enough to be held in one hand, but its two handed grip makes it able to be wielded with two.
Common Spear - A 6 foot pole of ash wood, with a steel tip attached. One of the most common personal weapons in the world, this weapon is easily used, and easily replaced. Able to be wielded with one hand, but most effective with two.
Shortbow & Quiver - A short yew bow meant for hunting. Plain and simple, without any sort of frills, other than leather wrapping around the grip. A wooden and leather quiver contains 20 arrows. Both are typically stored on the outer saddlebags of Emil's horse.
Heater Shield - A mid-sized shield with the Erran family coat of arms emblazoned across it. It is a lightweight metal shield that can be strapped to the forearm and secured with the hand. It has a leather strap that allows it to be slung over the shoulder/worn over the back.
Edessan Half Plate - a cut down suit of plate armor generally utilized by mounted Edessan knights and soldiers. Plates protect major parts of the body, while the rest of the body is protected with tough leather and mail under a tunic. This is to allow light weight, and greater mobility while mounted. The benefits confer to foot combat as well.
Roark, Horse - A well bred, multi-purpose horse ridden by Emil. Roark is a calm, well mannered horse, that doesn't scare easily. Roark wears boiled leather barding(armor) on his face, neck, and body. The barding is lightweight, and can protect Roark from glancing blows but doesn't provide much protection elsewise. Its still better than nothing, Emil argues. Roark also has saddlebags on his sides and behind the saddle.
Roark's saddlebags contain: A pair of leather waterskins, a small pouch with money, a tinderbox, lines and tackle for fishing, a small iron bowl for cooking, a small hatchet for wood gathering, a small knife and whetstone, a length of rope (approx. 30 feet), a spool of fine thread and needle, a roll of clean cloth and bottle of spirits for cleaning and treating wounds, a pouch of herbal ointment, a lantern with several spare candles, a few days worth of provisions for Emil as well as his horse. Behind the saddle is a blanket and spare clothes are wrapped in a roll of canvas. |
55,779 | 1,527 | 115 | 1,153 | 95 | Nodding to Emil as he closed with his horse, Ionathan watched as the house collapsed, wondering how many priceless valuables were now buried under the rubble and if all had got out in time. As expected he saw that Isabeau was unharmed and so was the rest of the group. The sight of Sakaala’s blade raised against Isabeau made the guardsman smirk, it seemed that Isabeau’s temper must have improved since Waeldeshore. In normal circumstances Ionathan would have waded into the conversation to defuse the situation but he knew that she could handle herself.
"You all didn't really trust our host...did you?”
“I had no reason to doubt my trust in her, she aided my people, saving hundreds of lives.”
This question did raise some self-conscious thoughts in his head. Perhaps his trust in people made him naive, a foolish thing to be considering his past experiences. While the others instantly cast doubts on her it took the world of Isabeau for him to begin to see a different side of Genevieve.
"No, wait, get back here woman"
The guardsman sighed, that was no way to begin a conversation. As he looked on at the groups barrage of questions and Isabeau’s snide remark. He noticed that the staff were still hanging around. He wanted to see if any of the staff new about Genevieve’s corruption.
Placing his bag and helmet by the wall he walked up to the band of staff.
“Commissioner Hepburnberg of the Waeldeshoreian guard” he said in a clear voice, showing his badge of office to the staff.
“Firstly I would like to say that I am sorry for your loss, this must be devastating for you all but I’m afraid it is my duty to clear up a few things before you go.”
Ionathan went on to ask; how they were recruited to being staff, what went on in a normal day, any strange things that their employer did and what was Genevieve like as an employer. Ionathan listens with his educated as experienced ear. Glancing back at the group from time to time to make sure that things to not escalate. | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,780 | 1,527 | 116 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Things are quite clear now, yes. Clear enough at least. When you say you're looking for another artifact in the ruins, people might get the wrong idea you see. What the woman sought in the ruins was not of any particular concern for him, merely an instrument of her ally, and he held the most important piece of the puzzle still. What do with it, what to do with it. The temptation to simply grind it to dust was there, but he realized it was most certainly not a smart route to take. Who knew what might come from the destruction of such a thing. He much preferred to steer clear from matters of sorcery.
He shook his head at the young squire. "I'd rather not crush something that might explode in my hands. That I can take it doesn't make it any less pleasant, and things are never so simple where witchery is concerned". He raised the bag up to his eyes, as though he might gleam some sort of information from it, and when he didn't he simply shrugged. "So, say I get your friend's trinket back from there. What's the plan then? With this and with her", he spared a glance at Genevieve lying most ungracefully outside what had once been her home. "I don't like loose ends. And speaking of, someone should tie the lady up. And possibly gag her as well". | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,781 | 1,527 | 117 | 2,426 | 2,292 | Even more arrogant and prideful than I imagined. The old Huntress' expression was still narrowed at the sight of the woman's smirk, as subtle as it was pulling at her lips.
The disdain she had for men, even women, of such qualities was as saturating as the rainwater was. It was clear she had a vendetta, a long standing one that had pooled and settled in the depths of her soul. Certainly not unjust, as even by the standards of combat the woman before them was fortunate; they could just have easily engaged her without warning the moment her back was turned. But Sakaala was not that, not the same thing she loathed. If she were going to strike down this assassin, she would make it swift, but not without warning.
"She does not appear to be very good at following instructions." The young knight's voice came as both he and steed approached, hooves clomping through the mud until he came to a halt, continuing on after about Lady Genevieve who had remained quite still where she was, drenched and cold. The leonine woman was just as drenched and cold, as were her compatriots; fair was fair.
A deep breath expelled itself from her flaring nostrils as she eased some, keen ears listening as he continued on;
"... would it not be simpler to have Ajax just crush the thing in his hands? He definitely appears capable of such a feat."
She would have disagreed, but Diagorides had already done so before she could speak. Wizardry, especially its darker forms, seldom was so easily destroyed by force alone without enacting some terrible form of revenge. Losing his hands was perhaps the least such a thing could do, but the beast-woman was certain some sort of curse related to the thing was far, far more likely. It could be subtle or bombastic in its presence, but any circumstance was bound to come with ill tidings.
"You, like most of your lot, speak too much on things that do not matter." She withdrew the sword, holding it in a place of calm within the stronger of her two sizable hands.
Neither her eyes or words left the woman as she picked and pecked through the rubble, searching for the enchanted trinket. She did not dare make an offer to find it, as easily as her inborn magic could have; she would let the woman do the work the hard way, leaving Diagorides to help her if he so wished. The woman had lost any respect that the ranger could have had for her and it begged her, truly so, to just finish her earlier hunt and be done with it. Yet, for all of her animal qualities, she was not an animal.
Isabeau had indeed answered the question, sparing her life. For now.
Great pawed feet turning, she left the huge man with a look, an expression that suggested nothing but disdain for this "witchling".
"Do not hesitate to kill her if need be." She continued after her brief moment of pause, "Not that I doubt you would."
With that, she passed by the Edessan knight upon his steed, proving to kneel beside the unconscious figure that lay so unceremoniously in the wet grass and pounded by rain. The tatters of her robe dirtying themselves, she began to tear asunder a sleeve of the fallen wizard with a claw; the razor-like sharpness of the talon tearing through it with an audible ripping of fabric. It only became more clear that the scarred beastly figure did not carry manacles or anything of the sort.
She was a hunter, through and though...
... and hunters do not capture their quarry. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,782 | 1,527 | 118 | 1,054 | 1,812 | She ignored the beastly woman as much as she could, and tried with all her might not to bare teeth as she spouted orders.
"Do not hesitate to kill her if need be."
Isabeau was indeed stubborn and proud, arrogant at times, and being direct was never a strong suit, but she had lost all respect for the beast woman the moment she raised her sword to her. Granted, she couldn't quite blame them for being suspicious and distrusting of her. She could only imagine what Genevieve had told them. And she herself was very distrusting of others, so to hold that against the woman would have been hypocritical. But there was something about it all, something that set the woman apart from the rest, something that just didn't sit right with Izzy.
She rolled her shoulders, shaking off any thoughts of stabbing the woman right then and there and turned her attention back to Ajax. "As for her, I had no plans for her. I just wanted her stopped. Which I think we can all say has been successful ... if I wanted her dead, I would've killed her a long time ago.", she exhaled deeply before continuing. "I'm not sure you could crush it, even if you tried. Not down to the core at least. I'm not much of a bookworm, but I've done more studying on that stone than I would care to admit. However, I can think of someone who -may- have answers on that front. Rumors are all that I've heard, but that is where I travel next. Because whether or not I like it, I've stuck with this war for 25 years, and wish to see it concluded before it consumes us all.", her eyes lingered over to Sakaala once more. There was such conviction in her voice, her skin paled as each muscle clenched, lines etched in her forehead as her brows wrinkled and she stared at the woman with daggers shooting through her eyes.
She may have spoke about things that didn't matter to the beast. But they mattered to her. She had seen many evils in her time, but none the likes of Zargon and his band. The sheer dark power they displayed, the destruction and chaos. At one point in her life she may have been tempted by such a darkness; it was a time when her ledger overflowed with blood, some innocent, others not much so. But now, she just wanted peace ... she was beginning to think if such a think were possible, it would only be in death.
"I am not asking you to come with me, but I will need that stone. Kill me now if you wish. Let the demons come and wipe out this world. While some of you may survive, you may even kill a few, it will be of no use. Their supply is endless and their power is great. And they will continue to come as long as the breach remains open."
Ionathan's questions fell on deaf ears for the most part. They all seemed scared stiff. Except one, the strange fellow that had been sent to fetch them all. His voice was quieted by the rain and rabble of the rest of the group. He held no love or loyalty to his former employer, and spoke openly of the harsh treatments they had all been subject to.
He went on to describe Genevieve as a crazy old wench, sick with her own obsessions. In the early days, when she had settled in the town, there had been some who quietly left their stations. Stories were leaked that they snuck out in the middle of the night, hidden in the shadows. But some would argue that their bodies never left the cottage and were shoved in holes somewhere. The very next day, new faces popped up within the service lines. It was no wonder that their faces hadn't appeared among those who lined the streets now, soaked and scared. The man had went on to tell the stories he himself had been privy to. They were lifeless bodies, animated by the wench herself, born out of the ashes of her magic.
"I - I dunn' kno abou demons an all ... but sh-she was evil!" | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,783 | 1,527 | 119 | 276 | 729 | Regina stood in a field of pink flowers, watching a pair of warriors battle. The warriors she recognized were Sakaala and Ajax. She knew not why they were fighting but knew it had to be important if they were truly going all out, as they seemed. To her left, Isabeau laid dead. When she saw her body, she felt no joy, only sorrow and anger. To her right, her oriental lover that had disappeared on her, wrapped in chains, crying. When she turned around, she saw Genevieve sitting on a black throne, her glare evil. She saw then that this dream was an omen. She saw the path she was heading down was dark and dangerous and knew she would have to change her ways. It wouldn't be easy but she made a promise to herself then and there. She looked back up at the battle, only to see both Sakaala and Ajax leaping for her.
Regina awoke with a start, breathing heavy. Looking around, she saw the ruined house, a group of people not far from it, and closer, Ionathon speaking with the maids and servants. The rain had stopped, or at least lightened up, and she felt awake enough to move, as long as she kept herself from her psionics. She stood shakily and stretched, soon beginning to walk towards the destroyed building, stopping as she heard the man say cruel things about the woman that had hired them. She listened to the conversation discretely, continuing once he had heard enough.
She knew Sakaala was talking to someone but she couldn't see who was in the rubble. "What's going on up there?" Regina asked, stopping beside the beast woman. "Found a survivor or something?" she asked, looking up at her. "Ajax trying to dig them out?" She didn't wait for an answer before trying to climb in, knowing Sakaala could, and thinking she probably would, pull the halfling out with barely any strength. Without her Psionics, Regina felt weak and vulnerable, though she tried not to show it. She didn't even think if anyone would notice her trying to climb into the mess rather than float in as she usually did. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,784 | 1,527 | 120 | 2,426 | 2,292 | One of the curved ears cupped in the direction of the noise that was the woman prattling on, but even then the battle-weary ranger kept about her business, being neither kind nor gentle with the aged wizard whose illusions and deceptions had been washed away by both the insight of those at hand and the rain water from above. Grasping one wrist, she bound it with the woman's cloth, being sure to intertwine it around and between a few fingers in addition to the wrist itself before setting it to the other; the sheer strength of the beast woman's grip could have reduced bone to splinters, but for all of the events that transpired, she took none of it out on the lady of the fallen manor. Willing the fingers of the sensationless hand, she manipulated their heavy digits, thickly padded as they were, to function in spite of the rest of the armored arm which remained most limp - what a strange sight it would be to behold, but it mattered little.
Concentration was one of her strengths, in fact, it emanated from her person like a bolstering presence. The sort that tempered weak wills and refined mighty ones to keen edges.
But she was not without lack of awareness, still tearing a strip away from another arm of the woman's robe.
"Because whether or not I like it, I've stuck with this war for 25 years, and wish to see it concluded before it consumes us all." The way the other woman's voice tapered off into harsher emphasis told Sakaala she was a target of much of the elaboration, but the leonine figure kept to her business, binding the maddened mage.
The Huntress was not about to play petty games with some human about the matters of what personal sacrifice meant, but the ordeal itself brought to her mind a saying she had heard among her company back in her more mercenary days; "The queen does not concern herself with the opinions of peasants." It was unfortunate that she found herself now relishing days of trading blood for coin, but at least there those foolish men respected and feared her because of what she was in and by itself. Now? Now she found herself tying up some crazed wizard with the shreds of her own clothes as if she were a trophy prize collected by barbarians.
The knots cinched into a vicious bond and the mithral breastplate heaved with a sigh; the woman was at last gagged and bound, just as unceremoniously as anything else the befell her this night. To which at this point, the keen ears listened in even closer then before;
"I am not asking you to come with me, but I will need that stone. Kill me now if you wish. Let the demons come and wipe out this world. While some of you may survive, you may even kill a few, it will be of no use. Their supply is endless and their power is great. And they will continue to come as long as the breach remains open."
She had no interest in replying from where she was at this distance, let alone to the speaker in question, but uttered instead with hushed breath her frustrations in native tongue, eyes shifting up to motion that drew near. Unsurprisingly, her one keen eye fell upon the small damp figure of Regina Hills, whose curiosity had been piqued for one reason or another. The tiny, by comparison of scale solely, woman looked to her with rich brown eyes, full of legitimate curiosity.
"What's going on up there? Found a survivor or something?"
The swordswoman's idle stare to the halfling before ticking to Sir Hepburnberg with the servants and back, Regina, as expected, had already set about approaching the debris, attempting to climb a few of the stones to get a better view of the rummaging that was undoubtedly continuing.
"Ajax trying to dig them out?" She carried on, seeming to hesitate briefly by looking back to the ranger and the quarry who she had been crouched by.
"Yes, someone else survived," The aged yet feminine voice began, "But no, neither they nor Diagorides require assistance."
Rising from her crouch, golden fur slicked with mud and grass about the knee and shin, she placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, giving a moment's pause. Now was not the time to deal with the tired psychic's lust of revenge or infinite curiosity; she did not want another reason to dabble with the "witchling" and her doings again tonight. There had been enough conflict as it was and all she wished for now was to be afforded the chance to sleep and muse on the events of this day.
"See if Sir Hepburberg has manacles; it seems we are taking the mad one alive." She misdirected, hoping her cunning would buy her time. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,785 | 1,527 | 121 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Of course they could just kill Genevieve now, far be it from Ajax to not take part in the slaying of a wizard, but that would be rather foolish. She could still, perhaps, provide important information. It was worth a try at the very least. After that, he did not care what happened to her. He'd kill her himself if she proved an annoyance. Ajax's mind, however, was currently occupied with what Isabeau was telling him. She sounded sincere, he'd find a way to get even if she wasn't, and what to him were the important aspects seemed all but confirmed now. Powerful demons, an invasion to his world and a great quest to undertake against them. A challenge worthy of Ajax Diagorides indeed.
"Oh please. I didn't figure you had a flair for drama", he said with a grin as he tucked away the prize tightly in his waistband. It wasn't the safest place but honestly he was getting tired of clutching it around like a lunatic and he wondered just how incovenient carrying it around during a journey would be. "No, I won't kill you. You speak of war and adventure and powerful foes, and this I can work with", he said as he approached the rubble Isabeau was trying to clear. He took a deep breath, squatted down and his body tensed into iron as he dug his fingers around a large chunk of masonry blocking the way.
After a brief moment of preparation and making sure he had a good footing, a grunt escaped through clenched teeth and Ajax's body sprang up with a practiced motion, his arms swinging upwards. The remains of the manor were chucked clear into another, distant pile of refuse with a rumbling crash that could be heard even amidst the rain. "Let it never be said Ajax Diagorides ran from a fight". | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,786 | 1,527 | 122 | 1,054 | 1,812 | She smirked as Ajax boasted, allowing him through to help her. At least there was someone she could rely on. Someone who seemed to understand enough, who hasn't caused her grief or regret of her venture there, who wouldn't mindlessly pull a weapon on her, demanding answers.
"I wouldn't dare say such a thing, and anyone who does is a fool indeed." her smirk persisted as she crept into the space he had cleared for her, her hands fumbling through what was left of the wreckage.
She was too preoccupied with her search to notice the hin who had slipped into the rubble among them. Her curiosity for the amulet only fed her determination so much so, that she hadn't even realized how close Regina was getting.
"Found it!" she proclaimed, loud and clear, oblivious to the presence of anyone but Ajax. It's magic had pulled her, it's light had brightened the way. She reached her fingers beyond the planks of wood that hung beyond the ruins cleared. It dangled just beyond her reach, like a carrot on a stick. She pressed through, inching forward, just enough. Her calloused hands bounced around the cord before finally grasping it, and suddenly, she froze. She hadn't held it before, and just being in its presence was enough to make her feel something. The thrill of it all captured her, and she waited another moment longer before she would even dare move.
Movement of pebbles and debri echoed just behind her, finally stealing her attention away from her prize. Cautiously, she slowly planted a foot securely behind her, inching out of the tight space she had pressed herself into. With firm footing, she pivoted to see the new face that had joined them in the dank and murky ruin of what was once Genevieve's grand cottage. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,787 | 1,527 | 123 | 276 | 729 | Regina froze upon reaching a spot in the rubble where she could see Isabeau. She heard Sakaala say something about Ionathan but was too distracted by what she saw. Isabeau was reaching for something. She shook herself from her concentration as she heard something about the "mad one" being taken alive. "Mad one?" she asked, turning to see Ionathan tying Genevieve's wrists. "Looks like he's got a handle on things over there." she said, climbing higher, having to push Sakaala's hand from her shoulder. She said nothing as she watched Isabeau, staring into her eyes. She mumbled to herself as she looked at Genevieve again, wondering just what the artifact had done to her. She remembered the dragons, fighting beside Siegfried and Ionathan, among many others, and retrieving the item for the woman. She turned back to Isabeau, remembering her feelings for her before and after what the halfling considered the woman's betrayal. She looked down, deep in thought. Did she really betray me? she thought, glancing at her again, Or did I just feel betrayed and hurt because of my feelings for her? She turned back to Sakaala, shaking her head. "I need more sleep." she said simply. "As strong as you are, I'd probably weigh nothing to you. Got room in your pack to carry me?" She risked another glance at Isabeau, trying to think of what to say. With a sigh, she drew a longtooth to point at the... She didn't know what to consider Isabeau anymore. It seemed they were no longer enemies but not yet allies. "I have questions for you." she warned. "Don't stray too far or I will hunt you down." She sheathed the extended dagger before looking back at Sakaala, her arms open to see if Sakaala would help her down, if not help her on her back so she could sleep more.
If Sakaala were to set her on the ground, she would walk to Emil, looking at him. "Give a lady a lift?" she'd ask with a tired smile.
If Sakaala slid the halfling to her back, she would slip into a place she would not fall and try to sleep, listening to the beast-woman's heartbeat through her back. | Name: Regina Hills
Species: Halfling
Age: 57
Description: Regina is a bit tall for a halfling, a whole six inches taller than the average of 3 feet, with long, reddish brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. She has a pale complexion and a few small wrinkles, preferring to stay in the shade, and a thin but curvy figure that is slowly catching up with her age.
Regina wears a thin layer of leather armor over her clothes with multiple daggers hidden on her and a pair of longtooth daggers on her hips. Regina carries no less than 20 throwing daggers, 10 normal daggers and a pair of longtooth daggers on her at any time.
Personality: Regina is the type of woman to flirt with some of the younger women though nothing too far as she doesn't want to be left again. She's easy to anger if you say the wrong thing. However, she does keep her anger under control while at work. She's no longer the happy-go-lucky woman she once was, instead taking everything carefully and not letting anyone close again.
Skills/Abilities: Regina has great aim with her throwing daggers and is proficient with her normal daggers to block and redirect, allowing her to use her longtooth daggers, with their little extra length, to attack. She can also pick locks, pick pockets, find and remove traps, track people, most any skill a thief would find very helpful.
Other than that, she is an excellent with her psionic powers, allowing her to do many things most people cannot.
-Combat Mind: Using this, she has a clear understanding of where her allies and enemies are.
-Telekinesis: She can levitate most objects though nothing bigger than a small human male for more than a couple minutes.
-Levitation: She can lift herself up to 12 feet from whatever she's standing on.
-Complete Healing: With a 12-hour meditation process, she can heal herself of all injuries, illnesses, poisons and the like.
-Quick Healing: With a matter of a few minutes and a lot of concentration, she can heal her small injuries, though nothing bigger than a small cut.
-Adrenaline Control: By controlling the production and release of adrenaline in her system, she can give herself a temporary physical boost on demand.
-Body Weaponry: Using this, she can turn her hands into dagger blades or go as far as her elbow for a shortsword blade.
-Displacement: She can control where people see her, whether or not she moves.
-Teleport: With this, she can teleport up to 200 feet away in the blink of an eye, with loud popping sounds emitting from both the place she teleports from and to.
-Telepathy: Using this, she is able to communicate wordlessly with another intelligent being without having to worry about language barriers.
-Daydream: She can cause another person's mind to wander, allowing her to pick their pockets and get away safely with a lower chance of getting caught.
Magic: She has no magic though some have commented her psionics are similar.
Backstory: Regina was raised in a big halfling city, well as big a city as the halflings would build, with her numerous siblings. The only way she could stand out in her family enough to be remembered was the fact that, at a young age, she could make apples fly to her hand. She had practically never spent any time at home once she was old enough and had gotten caught picking locks and grabbing an apple for a snack. She had eventually decided, after nearly having her hand chopped off for the thousandth time, to leave the city and find a better life. She soon was found by a thieves' guild that took her in and began training her. She spent the next 15 years in the guild, training as hard as she could to get faster and stronger though her strength didn't improve by much. They found out about her psionic skills rather quickly and, being only the second psionic in the guild, learned from an older man who taught her how to teleport, heal small wounds, levitate items other than apples, such as herself, and so on.
After her training was finished, she began traveling again, ending up in Waeldeshore. It was there she met a group that was going to be fighting a dragon. She decided to join them, supplying the team with a lot of jerky during their travel to the cave. They ended up stealing a magic artifact from a sleeping dragon, one of two in that particular cave and escaping rather quickly. Upon arriving back at the town, most of them decided to spend the night. Regina offered to share a room with one of the more beautiful, yet still a bit scary, women on the team. When she awoke, however, she saw her ally was gone. She had searched for days but the trail was cold and she couldn't follow what she couldn't find. Instead, she decided to go east.
She went far east, ending up in a land much different than what she was used to a year later. It was there she met another halfling woman, a bard who instantly captured her heart. She traveled with the bard, acting as her bodyguard for a decade and a half until she was injured badly. She was unconscious for days as she slowly healed herself from nearly dying but, when she awoke, the bard was gone. She asked around but nobody had seen the halfling bard around in days. She had been abandoned again.
With nothing else to do, she returned to the west. It took 4 years to travel back, as she had done other jobs along the way to distract her, but she eventually returned to Wealdeshore. With not much else to do, she became a guard for one of the local pubs. It's been 5 years since her return and, in that time, she's proven to be a great asset as well as a new resident for the foreseeable future. |
55,788 | 1,527 | 124 | 2,426 | 2,292 | Ignored as she was by the halfling who found herself pulling away to investigate further, the predatory woman looked away with a subtle sigh, rounded feline ears firm to her sleek but broad skull; there was no will in her to mediate whatever was about to happen between the two, so she instead put herself back to work. Grasping the fallen sage by the back of her robe at the collar, the other powerful arm looping under a shoulder, she hefted the limp, greyed figure to her feet then up into her complete grasp with surprising ease. Gritting her fearsome jaws, she started away from the ruin behind her, intending to see if Sir Erran would be willing to lay the woman upon his lap and let his steed do the work for the rest of them by carrying her to...
Wherever they were off to next - the wordy "assassin" had yet to provide them anything of use in their hunt for the demon Zargon, and for all of the frustration that welled up within the Huntress' breast, she accepted that the others had a different mindset. They were mortals and their peoples had different custom and expectation; not that it was an excuse, but this was not a surprise. They wanted to discuss about this matter at hand rather than set off on the hunt itself without further delay.
"As strong as you are, I'd probably weigh nothing to you. Got room in your pack to carry me?"
Regina's voice carried to Sakaala who stopped mid stride, her amalgamation of armor clinking to a halt. From over her sizable shoulder, the blinded warrior's dulled expression at first suggested she would not even entertain the thought, but she did soften; the brow over her milky eye relaxing its intensity.
Like a mother to a child, she silently eased the tiny woman down the slick stone and wood debris, holding Lady Genevieve in one arm to do so; tonight was a test of her limits, in every sense one could imagine. Her patience had been worn so thin that she could do nothing but accept the fate at hand, so by the time she assisted Regina into her pack, she was as calm as she could be once more. A myriad of reasons spawned this outcome, but mostly that she needed to keep her mind off and away that a potential enemy was readily in her midst...
"We should probably cease our idleness; we have no further business being here."
She announced, her voice loud enough to be heard by those in the company, again walking toward Sir Erran with the intent to saddle the lady in bonds upon the horse provided the knight in question was confident he could keep her out of harm. Not that the warrior-mage needed her hands to fight - her body was a living weapon - but moreover that she would prefer to be able to draw the sword that found itself now between Regina's pack and the beastly woman's breastplate. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,789 | 1,527 | 125 | 1,153 | 95 | The servant who talked confirmed Genevieve’s corruption, he spoke of crimes that sounded more like the actions of a psychopath rather than the Genevieve Ionathan thought he knew. Thanking the man with a few coins for his trouble the guardsman now tried to get the servants to go home. While some moved off in different directions, others just stood in the same spot staring into the distance, their eyes glazed other. He had experience of this before during his army days and sometimes he himself suffer from this when remembering some of his brutal past.
Deciding it was best for them to recover of their own accord rather than attempt to get them to snap out of their trance. Ionathan now slung the pack onto his back and carried his helmet under his arm, water dripping of its visor. Walking over, Ionathan joined the group and listened to the various group members that were talking. Always the reserved type he preferred to listen and observe rather than butting into a convocation.
“I’ve been stuck with this war for 25 years”
That single sentence sent feelings of guilt into his thoughts, After the Happening at Waeldeshore Ionathan went from a rank and file guardsman to a folk hero while some of the others who had had a larger role were side-lined. While he was always uncomfortable with the popularity he never tried to pull away from it. He decided to go with the crowed because the people of Waeldeshore needed a hero that they could relate to, not one with super human abilities or from a distant land, but one of their own, who they could look at and see themselves. Because of this he accepted this title of Sir, he accepted the honours and popularity that was given, and while the nobles were toasting his name and calling him “Waeldeshores finest” Isabeau was out fighting the real threat, facing unknown amount of horrors.
Ionathan would return home from his duties to a loving wife and a warm fire, oblivious and arrogant to the idea that the Happening had not ended the threat of chaos.
He felt the need to finish what he had waded into 25 years ago, but first, he wanted to go to bed.
"We should probably cease our idleness; we have no further business being here."
With a nod Ionathan agreed with the Sakaala who was now carrying Regina in her pack which he found to be a mixture of confusing, unexpected and cute.
“I agree. My friends I have both coin and the urge for a bed, how about we find a nice tavern to rest in. We can argue and insult each other tomorrow morning over a nice bowl of porridge but now we rest.” | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,790 | 1,527 | 126 | 1,054 | 1,812 | Conversation had sprouted between a few, though it was brief. The beast woman had eased away from Isabeau, though her mood and demeanor seemed just as sour, and condescending, despising even, as it was when she held the sword out to her throat. Her gaze drifted around to those gathered as their words passed through her. All except for Regina's. "I have questions for you. Don't stray too far or I will hunt you down." Her eyes lingered on the hin a bit longer than they did on the others.
Ionathan had mentioned something of resting up in a tavern, incidentally there was one not far from their location, the very one that had accommodated several of their party members before they entered into this crazed debacle.
"I suppose then that I will join in your respite at this tavern. But come dawn, I travel to the stronghold of The Jarjestys Magi, located north of here, perhaps a days travel at least. To my knowledge, they have also been monitoring demon activity so we'll have a better idea of what's going on with them."
With the amulet in hand, she nodded to Ajax in appreciation for the help and started her ascent out of the ruins. Their trip to the mages cottage hadn't been a complete failure. Genevieve was now out of the way, she had acquired the artifact, and no blood was shed ... That she knew of anyway. Yes, there were questions, and explanations that she would have to go over several times. People were angry, hurt, betrayed. But people were always angry, hurt and betrayed. She was just happy she made it out of there alive. Part of her had hoped that half the group would disband, but honestly, if they had any hope in defeating Zargon, she would need their help. All of their help.
Her hands braced whatever rubble that hadn't been uprooted by her new ally. She wasn't an expert climber by any means and it seemed to have taken a bit of effort to rise out of the ruin. Stealing one more glance in the direction of the cottage that had once stood so tall, she looses a breath, quietly muttering something under her breath. "I'm sorry.". For whatever it was worth, to the ghosts of the house, the magic that lay buried beneath the soot and stone, the person she once considered friend. To the tavern she travelled, expecting the others to follow. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,791 | 1,527 | 127 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax grinned quite obviously as the confrontation between Regina and Isabeau finally came to pass, leaning against one of the few piles of refuse tall enough for him to comfortably rest his elbow upon. Had he had some popcorn it would have completed a very common modern image, but alas there was no food to be found. If he was dissapointed by the peaceful resolution it didn't show, instead he shrugged at Isabeau. "That went pretty well didn't it", he said without expecting an answer back. And besides, something else had already taken his attention. He would forever remember the image of the beastwoman helping the halfling up into her backpack.
He did, however, roll his eyes at the talk of more wizards. It was funny to him how the root of the problem was magic and now they were resorting to magic to try and fix it. No wonder they'd been trying unsuccesfully for so long. These thoughts occupied his mind as they made their way to the inn, which was obviously closed and barred. Strangers in town, a storm, chaos on the hill and inhuman noises culminating with the collapse of the house. It would have been truly bizarre for it to be open and operating as though nothing had happened. Starting to get tired of all the nonsense, Ajax simply pulled the door apart while the owner screamed in terror. | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,792 | 1,527 | 128 | 1,054 | 1,812 | The tavern wasn't nearly as full when several of the group had visited last. Though there were a small number of tables occupied, most of the chairs leaned on the hard wood, rounded surface that occupied the space they surrounded.
The barkeep was startled when remnants of the door splintered in every which direction. Being a barkeep, nothing seemed to startle him all that much. Terror flooded his features as he ducked behind the bar. Typically tavern owners don't want much trouble, it's bad for business. So they're up for defending the ale stained, rotting floor boards and rickety tables and chairs, right up until their last breath. But so much was going on in this town, right under their noses. They weren't used to magic, not of this caliber of destruction anyway. The storm was enough to make them close up shop for the evening, but he couldn't shut out those seeking refuge from its havoc. But with the house atop the hill collapsing and so many new faces in town over the last two days, it was more trouble than he cared for. Rightfully so, he wasn't expecting them to bulldoze the door down either.
The barkeep was an older man, typically jolly with his customers. But to those who knew him, he was the cautious type, the business type. So it wouldn't have surprised them that he hand an ax hidden within the shelves behind the bar. Small enough to stow away without his customers noticing, but dangerous enough to do damage to trouble makers who couldn't take a hint. It was out of terror that he grabbed his ax. After the surprise over the shattered door had melted away, he jolted upright, ax in hand. "Whadda ya want! We got nuttin here fer ya trouble makers" His pupils were dilated, his palms sweated heavily around the shaft of his weapon. He might have been holding it backwards, his nerves were quite on edge, and his attention solely on those who had busted down his door. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,793 | 1,527 | 129 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The inhuman silhouette that was the old ranger in her darkened, tattered robe with hood pulled over her leonine head, set her soaking self into the breach the strongman wedged open with the same ease one would wring a hen's neck. She had, wisely so, set the halfling down once again before making such an entrance with Diagorides; better to risk one's well being than that of them both by going through at the same time. The small wooden awning that existed over the door shielded the small woman and the pack she sat in from the water, but for the Huntress, she was forced to mind her head as she entered.
It was then she stood to her full height as ominous and monstrous as she ever could seem to be, "Not trouble, that much I can assure you."
Hooking the edge of her cowl with a finger, she revealed her sundered face in the dim firelight of the tavern, blinking calmly. It was now she looked over the aged man in complete, noting the axe he wielded in both hands shaking with adrenaline. The head was backward and none of the other few patrons seemed to move an inch; Diagorides had once again proven his ability to make an entrance.
"We are here for the warmth of the fire." Sakaala said, glancing to the faintly crackling flames.
"As for the door..." She shook her head ever so slightly, "It resisted."
The lioness' demeanor was intimidating to say the least; she towered over men and bore great claws and fangs, not to mention the armor of a soldier of fortune and the weapon of one too. The presence of her companions only further solidified that they were not to be trifled with, for while she had no quarrel with these people, she certainly was not about to befriend them without good reason. This entire town she avoided understandably so and that being was the fact she was not welcome. A "monster" seldom could keep company, let alone townsfolk, for the obvious fact that they were... frightening. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,794 | 1,527 | 130 | 2,620 | 2,551 | Having the allegedly insane sage slumped in his saddle with him was, unnerving, to say the least. Sakaala had approached Emil with with the unconscious sage, her gestures implicating that the lady was to be placed with him. As it was, Emil was in no real place to argue with the lioness. The group finished their business with the remains of the lady's old house, and they made the short trek to the village, where they approached the tavern in order to rest, as Ionathan had suggested.
Excusing himself from the group to take his horse to the stables, a stablehand who recognized the young knight from earlier that night and even offered to help him carry in Lady Genevieve. Turning the stablehand down, Emil was in the process of carrying Lady Genevieve to the front door of the tavern, when Ajax ripped the door off its hinges with little more than a grunt. The response was, as Emil guessed, not very positive, the owner grabbing at an axe and yelling at them to leave. To be fair, Ajax had never claimed subtlety to be a strong suit of his. Following this, Sakaala spoke to the tavern owner, her voice quiet, yet threatening.
With a small sigh, Emil had decided he had had enough of this nonsense. Pausing at the door to carefully carry in Lady Genevieve without slamming her head or legs against the doorframe, Emil approached the tavern owner with a small nod. While unremembering of his name, the owner seemed to recognize the young knight from earlier that afternoon- few men strode into town wearing the blued steel of Edessan.
"Good evening sir," Emil spoke to the man, his voice soft and level, almost soothing in quality. "As my companion states, we do not seek to bring you trouble. We just desire a place to rest and eat, the events of the past few hours have been exhausting to say the least."
"Please disarm yourself sir, and we shall make our presence minimal." Emil said, having no wish to bring even more violence upon the small village. | Name: Emil Erran
Species: Human
Age: 18
Description:
Emil is a young man standing in at about 5'10" in height, with the build of an athlete- or at least one used to continuous physical exertion. While not the pinnacle of strength and endurance, Emil is in good fighting shape, and his body is sinewy and lithe. He has a few scars on his body- though none of them are from combat. His eyes are a deep green, and his blonde hair is typically short and out of the way. His typical attire is a deep blue tunic, with thick trousers, and well worn leather boots and gloves. In combat, he wears a cuirass to protect his upper chest, while still allowing him full range of motion while mounted, reinforced with tough leather, along with armor on his boots, sides, shoulders and forearms.
Personality:
Warm and kind-hearted, Emil is a modest young knight with a strong sense of morality and justice. This level headed knight tries his best to stay brave and rational in the face of hardship and adversity, despite his inexperience. Due to his young age, Emil is rather impressionable, and expresses a desire to learn various skills and tricks from the older veterans, though is often self conscious about his lesser skills when compared to that of the more experienced members of the group. Honest and trustworthy, Emil is compassionate and kind, if a little shy and soft-spoken. Loyal to a fault, Emil is more than willing to risk himself for the sake of others, and goes to great lengths to defend his loved ones. A very down to earth and grounded individual, Emil's calm and generally positive demeanor, while occasionally bordering on naivety, bolsters the spirits of those around him.
Skills/Abilities:
As a young Knight, Emil is well trained in multiple martial skills, but lacks field experience. He has fought alongside his lord-knight, while still a squire and is no stranger to battle, but is not what one would call a veteran. While young, and not as capable of an armsman as the rest of his older peers, Emil possesses worldly knowledge and skills unexpected from one his age, and is knowledgeable of a variety of skills in various fields.
--- Martial Skills ---
Adept Swordsmanship - As the son of a knight, and a knight himself, Emil has received martial training in various fields, and is capable with many weapons, but shows the most promise with a sword. Skilled enough to face down a common soldier or an untrained fighter and coming out no worse for wear, Emil struggles against more hardened and experienced foes.
Journeyman Spearmanship - Along with his swordsmanship, Emil has received training with the spear and lance, though it is clear he shows a preference to the sword. His stance and form are solid, and the spear is by nature, an easy weapon to pick up and use. He lacks the refinement of a master spearman, but can still use it with relative effectiveness.
Journeyman Archery - Alongside his other martial skills, Emil has also been trained in the use of the bow and arrow. He is neither particularly fast, nor particularly accurate with the bow, and is for all intents and purposes, average. He does slightly better with a crossbow, and primarily utilizes this skill for hunting.
Journeyman Horseback Riding - As a knight, Emil is trained on how to ride a horse, take care of a horse, and fight from a horse, though it is clear that he would prefer to do combat while on the ground. Stamina stemming from his youthfulness allows him to ride for hours without considerable exhaustion.
Trained Armor use - Years of training have taught Emil how to quickly don and remove plate armor, and can thus move with more dexterity and quickness than one without training would be able to. He is also well versed on the care of plate armor.
Trained Shield use - Several years of training has shown Emil how to properly brace and use a shield to block and deflect blows. As he is not the largest presence on the battlefield, when faced with larger foes, Emil primarily relies on deflecting and sidestepping enemy blows rather than attempting to completely stop or black oncoming attacks
--- Trade Skills ---
Journeyman Cooking - While not a master chef by any meaning of the word, Emil is resourceful and can cook a variety of meals with what little resources are often available while in the field.
Journeyman Surgery/First Aid - Unable to treat wounds via magic, Emil has been trained and is experienced with treating a variety of minor and moderate wounds, and is even capable of some surgery for more serious wounds. These treatments are not magic, and do not mend wounds instantly- nor do they guarantee the successful mending of wounds, but can serve to stave off death until more experienced doctors or healers can provide aid.
Journeyman Crafting - From tailoring and needlework, to leather-working, Emil, while not particularly amazing at any craftsman's trade, is skilled enough to make field repairs to clothing and armor.
Magic
Emil has no skill or control over magic, though it appears that he may have the affinity for magic. He views magic with suspicion and a small amount of fear, and while he has accepted magic as a facet of life, he is still unnerved by it.
Backstory:
The city of Edessa is a fair sized city-state located along the coast of __(mainland continent neighboring Silver Lily Isles)__. Edessa is a constitutional monarchy led primarily by the King, and a group of senators. It is not a major military power, but is known for its high quality knights and sturdy and reliable trade ships, and also contributed a large portion of its forces Mage-Wars decades ago. Edessa, due to its proximity to the Silver Lily Isles, often trades with the settlements on the Isle, most notably Waeldeshore. Edessa and Waeldeshore have built a rather positive trade relationship over the past two decades, and ships bearing Edessan flags are common in Waeldeshore and vice versa.
Emil, youngest son of the Erran family, comes from a long line of Edessan Knights. Emil, like the rest of his brothers were introduced to the lifestyle of a knight at a young age, and were immersed in their culture from the moment he could walk. The son of a Edessan Knight and his wife, Emil and his brothers were well educated at a young age and were taught manners as well as basic martial skills and knowledges as children. Throughout their childhood, Emil and his brothers would often venture into the city to play with other children. Emil made friends easily, and was known for his gentle and sensitive demeanor, while the rest of his brothers were respected for their various other qualities.
As they Erran children grew older, they were trained in the ways of various weapons, such as the spear and sword, and were trained in horsemanship and riding. After his seventh birthday, Emil was apprenticed to another noble family to serve as a page, where he would begin to further refine horsemanship and swordsmanship as well as learn the intricacies of reading and writing. A naturally perceptive and relatively intelligent child, Emil was treated well by his host family, and learned much under their tutelage.
The Knights of Edessa, or the Edessan Knights as many know them as, are an order of knights based in the city of Edessa. These knights are tasked with serving and protecting the people of Edessa, and often promote humanitarian movements to hunting monsters in the surrounding areas. These stalwart warriors are well known for both their valor and martial skill, despite their relatively small numbers. Every male member of the Erran family had been an Edessan Knight at one point in their life. Emil's brother is among the famed members of the Edessan Knights, and one of the King's personal guards. Each of Emil's brothers has already entered service in the order.
As he turned 14, he became squire to a famed Edessan Knight, where he furthered his training, continuing his work on bladesmanship and horsemanship, as well as learning archery, music, speech, and skills befitting a young knight. Here he learned how to take care of, and maintain armor, how to tend horses and treat wounds. The next several years were difficult, his knight was fair, but strict, and offered him nothing but the most difficult challenges to face.
Now a fresh 18 years old, Emil's journey to become a full fledged knight of Edessan has been completed, and Emil undertakes his first few journeys as his own knight. A message from the Great Sage Genevieve of Waeldeshore gives Emil his first taste of an adventure that he can call his own.
Possessions, Equipment, Weapons:
Father's Sword - A gift given to Emil by his father, upon his recent knighting. The sword is forged from Dwarven Steel- a special dwarven metallurgy technique that results in a tougher, denser, more durable steel. The blade is old and worn from use, but still remains a reliable weapon. A shorter than average bastard sword, it is light and maneuverable enough to be held in one hand, but its two handed grip makes it able to be wielded with two.
Common Spear - A 6 foot pole of ash wood, with a steel tip attached. One of the most common personal weapons in the world, this weapon is easily used, and easily replaced. Able to be wielded with one hand, but most effective with two.
Shortbow & Quiver - A short yew bow meant for hunting. Plain and simple, without any sort of frills, other than leather wrapping around the grip. A wooden and leather quiver contains 20 arrows. Both are typically stored on the outer saddlebags of Emil's horse.
Heater Shield - A mid-sized shield with the Erran family coat of arms emblazoned across it. It is a lightweight metal shield that can be strapped to the forearm and secured with the hand. It has a leather strap that allows it to be slung over the shoulder/worn over the back.
Edessan Half Plate - a cut down suit of plate armor generally utilized by mounted Edessan knights and soldiers. Plates protect major parts of the body, while the rest of the body is protected with tough leather and mail under a tunic. This is to allow light weight, and greater mobility while mounted. The benefits confer to foot combat as well.
Roark, Horse - A well bred, multi-purpose horse ridden by Emil. Roark is a calm, well mannered horse, that doesn't scare easily. Roark wears boiled leather barding(armor) on his face, neck, and body. The barding is lightweight, and can protect Roark from glancing blows but doesn't provide much protection elsewise. Its still better than nothing, Emil argues. Roark also has saddlebags on his sides and behind the saddle.
Roark's saddlebags contain: A pair of leather waterskins, a small pouch with money, a tinderbox, lines and tackle for fishing, a small iron bowl for cooking, a small hatchet for wood gathering, a small knife and whetstone, a length of rope (approx. 30 feet), a spool of fine thread and needle, a roll of clean cloth and bottle of spirits for cleaning and treating wounds, a pouch of herbal ointment, a lantern with several spare candles, a few days worth of provisions for Emil as well as his horse. Behind the saddle is a blanket and spare clothes are wrapped in a roll of canvas. |
55,795 | 1,527 | 131 | 1,153 | 95 | While walking to the tavern Ionathan realised how much he missed his wife. It had been years since his last such adventure, not since his family. He was beginning to miss them greatly, he could still recall his wife’s smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair and those misty brown eyes. He stared into dirt just ahead of his feet, lost in thoughts.
Until Ajax ripped the door open, apparently unaware of how doors work. Inside, the tension was as thick as expected. Ionathan now started to regret wearing the tabard, its bright colours and rampant lion were turning heads, men whispering to each other while gazing at him like they would look at some pompous noble.
"As for the door...It resisted."
‘That’s not how to decrease tensions after breaking into the man’s establishment’ Ionathan thought to himself, making his way towards the front of the group.
Emil made a much better attempt to calm the man much to Ionathan’s relief and after seeing the owner hesitate by slightly lowering his weapon, Ionathan now decided to go in and seal the deal.
Going into his belt pouch he brought out a freshly minted coin putting it on the bar in front of his so he could inspect it. He had no doubt that the promise of coin would help de-escalate any tensions.
“I will compensate you for the door. We are only here for a night’s sleep, nothing more” | Name: Ionathan Hepburnberg
Race: Half-Elf
Description: Tall, Honourable,kind-hearted, mid 30s human age appearance.
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dark Green eyes under black eyebrows and short, black hair. At 6 foot 1 Ionathan is above average height for humans and easily stands out with his sharp, elven like features including elf like ears but more rounded and less pronounced, he has a Light skin colour with a small scar on his right cheekbone
Clothing/Armor: A Tabard with the Hepburnberg Coat of arms over a mail shirt with padding underneath. He has a few satchels upon his belt consisting of first aid supplies. Atop his head is a sallet with a padded lether cap underneath. On casual days, Ionathan wears a plain brown tunic.
Weapons: Ionathan wields a bastard sword that is usually equiped with his shield that he carries on his back with a Guige when it's not equiped. The shield is a standard heater shield with the Hepburnberg heraldry for a coat of arms.
Skills/Abilities:
An experience fighter-Ionathan's experience in the army has not left him as he remembers the battles he was in and how to take on opponents of different measure.
Discipline and Obedience- As part of his soldier training the iron discipline is still embedded in Ionathan's mind.
Ionathan knows basic first aid with some advance understanding of the significance of wounds.
Backstory: With a human father and a elven mother Ionathan got to learn about both human and elven cultures from an early age. However, His father was a wealthy landowner so his marriage to an elf was most scandalous, this left Ionathan with a resentment of the nobility and few friends. Ionathan in his childhood and adolescents spent his time reading and received a good education via private tutors. When the war broke out Ionathan had just reached Adulthood and being in a noble family he was enlisted as an officer cadet, Ionathan's training at the officers training camp was harsh but effective, at the start he was like any other who had just reached adult hood, full of energy and always cheerful, but by the end he was a disciplined and skilled officer who acted with knowledge and calculation rather than gut feeling. After The training he was assigned to be a Lieutenant of the 35th regiment of foot where he served throughout the war. The 35th served with valor and duty with their most famous action taking place when a strike force went to strike a supply town near the border and the 35th held the road despite repeated enemy assaults until reinforcements arrived, the officers were personally kissed on the cheeks by the ruling official of the town and were offered the best rooms in the taverns while the regiment was resupplied.
After the war Ionathan adopted a girl made orphaned by the war and settled down and bought a cosy 2 bedroomed house in Waeldeshore were he became a guard for the town. Over the years he reflected on his life in the army while growing to like the town and became a respected by his colleagues and the town for his by the book approach to handling situations and his good relation with the Guard Captain. Throughout the years he made sure that his daughter was given the best education he could afford her with his salary, even on the weekends giving lessons himself. He remains in close contact with his parents who visit every month. Ionathan is looking forward to a life of keeping law and order while letting time heal the wounds of war.
After the "happening" at Waeldeshore, Ionathan took over the family estate in the countryside and established it as a fine farming estate. The workers being retired soldiers and victims of the happenings, live in accommodation around the estate and although the pay is modest, Ionathan provides food, warmth and shelter for those who have suffered. Ionathan put aside his sword and picked up the pen becoming Commissioner of Justice, reforming the guard into a more professional law enforcement body. Being part of a noble family Ionathan was put through an arranged marriage with was easy to arrange due to the fame he gained in fighting the demons, while the couple are not a "lovey dovey" pair they both love each other dearly and have enjoyed there years of marriage which soon gave them a son. Ionathan’s Adopted daughter was accepted by Ionathan’s wife with open arms and now has become the state ambassador traveling around the world promoting friendship and trade between nations. One day Ionathan received a strange letter from Genevieve calling him to once more take up arms, Ionathan immediately informed his wife of the letter and his intent to leave. Although leaving his wife and child to themselves weighted heavy in Ionathan’s heart, he departed several days later.
Alignment- Lawful good |
55,796 | 1,527 | 132 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax took a step forward, carefully setting the door down within the establishment. He was still stripped down to his loincloth and both partially covered in mud and still dripping rainwater. The eyes of the locals darted primarily between the beastwoman and the tall man, heavy with muscle that looked as though it had been carved from stone and the skin tough and coarse as battle-worn armor. In a way, the second was more unsettling to look at. Sakaala was at least further removed from what they were, the other was proof that their own kind could become terrifying beings. Ajax took one look at the man with the axe and smirked. "Would you have opened if we'd just asked? I just saved us both some time. I put your door down nicely, you do the same with the axe". | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
55,797 | 1,527 | 133 | 1,054 | 1,812 | The man stammered and staggered with his words. It was very unlike an owner of such an establishment. It was very unlike him. Though considering their new patrons, he was lucky he didn't soil his pants. For they were not brown, and that would've made the embarrassment much more public.
Her very quietly and cautiously placed the weapon on the bar counter, glancing with an o so weary eye between Ajax, the beast woman and the Knights who had seemed to at least try and be nice. The humans were a common enough sight. Even the hin, who was noticed to be asleep through this whole ordeal. But 'twas the beast woman who frightened him most. You didn't see many of them round these parts. Perhaps it would have been best to not lock the door that evening. But it couldn't be helped now.
"10 coin fer the night, then. Each room. I ain't got enough, so I'm guessing you be sharing with each otha. there be only 4 tha havn' been reserved yet, up the stairs and to the left. I can warm ya up sum suppa and send it up."
He had mustered up whatever courage he had left just to speak. But his words came out plainly, covered in fear and dripping in angst. He found himself just wishing for the day to be over, and had hoped the Knights were kind enough to keep their beasts in check for their stay. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,798 | 1,527 | 134 | 2,426 | 2,292 | The scent of fear struck a primal chord within the heart of the bestial woman that was Sakaala, but not in the manner one might have expected based upon outward appearance alone. Rather than taking pride in the man's fright as he carefully set down the axe, looking between her, the knights and the other mercenary, she recalled there was good reason to fear creatures like her. She said nothing more for the moment, not pausing either to recall why she and others were rightfully feared. Instead, she drew up her leather sack by the straps, the same that bore the dozing halfling not too many steps outside the door, taking them both to near the fire's side.
"I have no need for a room," Her strong arm gently set the satchel and other woman down beside the warm glow of the flames, "But I will pay you all the same as you have asked."
She looked to Diagorides and then the door, or what remained of it, then turned her attention back to the inn's keeper. It was not a hollow gesture, her words to come, but moreover a practical one; a door was better than none. If it took a burly man to rip it clean from its hinges, then it was sturdy enough to slow most potential threats some. This night had ample conflict as it was and the soaking fur of the lioness' worn hide spoke quiet volumes about how much she was displeased with having to face another enemy so quickly on short notice.
"... and I will mend your door."
The tone she spoke in just as commanding as anything else she said, keeping her attention back again to the rest of her group and wherever this would-be assassin had gone. She trusted none of them too deeply, the knightly men more by virtue of their sworn codes and Diagorides by his love of challenge and coin, but more so than her former enemy - her former quarry. It would be difficult to divide what she had set her mind to doing, but if she could meditate on these things this night and perhaps even sleep, there might be more clarity yet. | Name:
"Sakaala"
Referring to herself as "Sakaala", it is unknown what her name truly is, but there exists reason enough to believe that her assumed name has apparent symbolism, most likely amongst those familiar to her fallen people who placed great value in the meaning of all things, most importantly those belonging to themselves. For those in the know of obscure and arcane cultural history, she is "the finality" or more simply "the last (whole) one", a sobering title that is not only accurate but most disheartening.
Species:
Monstrous Humanoid
The origin and types of monstrous humanoids vary greatly, with some being the product of twisted arcane magic unchecked to others being the work of some divine force. They range from the more "common", as with the minotaur, centaur or harpy, to the more exotic and rare. Sakaala, as well as those who once made up her people, bordered the spectrum of the latter more than the former, being mostly obscure but recorded comparatively well. However, the question of what created a small number of lionmen abroad the realm is unknown, but their kind existed like many monsters before the Age of Mortals, near certainly having an origin many ancient eras past. Only in recent times has this rare bloodline, as with many other unusual beings of similar sorts, all but disappeared after prolonged hunting of "aberrants" by paranoid mortals in the wake of the near successful invasion of the plane.
Age:
47
Although longer lived than most mortal men by virtue of unnatural blood, Sakaala is no youth and certainly no longer in her prime. In spite of these things, as with her natural relatives, she is a remarkable example of longevity which has been extended yet by dabbling in arcane arts and an incredible will to survive.
Description:
Sakaala is distinct in just race alone; owing both to her incredible scale among mortal men, at the height of horse of twenty-two hands, and her overtly leonine features of which are only vaguely humanoid in nature and otherwise quite savage.
Her dense sand tone hide is badly scarred about the right of her body, bearing some wounds of which were so visibly savage that even magical aid has not wholly righted them, but the most notable being the blindness of her right eye. While no less lame in the right arm than blind in the right eye, almost entirely numb, she retains its use by sense of self alone. Ambidextrous in response because of this weakness, her tendency to shore up vulnerabilities is remarkable.
She distinctly conceals the worst of her injuries beneath her partial robe, and outside of the obvious blindness of an eye, her body is in remarkable condition for a female of her growing age, violent history and having bore offspring in previous. While not overtly robust, her musculature is still visible and her strength measurably stronger than many men. Instead of these qualities, she is more remembered for the gold that is the color of her eyes, barring the blindness; they are akin to portals of lingering sadness and fierce resolve - the same lament of failure and animal cry of defiance entwined.
Minimalist in her armoring, Sakaala bears a well worn mithral breastplate upon her chest and a matching pauldron and bracer to her weaker arm, ending it in a fingerless leather glove. Beneath her limited armor she dresses in the remnants of an aged arcanist's robe that ends just beneath her sizable bust, rolling it at the shoulder upon the right limb and let loose upon her strong left arm; the formerly black material having faded to a dusted grey. It, like the rest of her regalia, is undoubtedly salvaged from a fallen friend or a fallen foe, becoming both a prize and a memento. Upon her waist fits a wide tribal belt and battered sash keeping rolled, pressed leather leggings that are accompanied by a pair of slender, exotic daggers worn at the thigh about her lower half. While the belt she adorns herself was once common to her kind, they exist now only as prizes in the hands of grim collectors.
Worn about her neck hangs a morbid reminder of her enemy's hatred for her people - a collection of fangs and claws - which was most certainly pried from the cold, dead grasp of one of her felled foes of which is accompanied by another, not nearly minor trinket; a decorative necklace of polished black stone upon a humble leather loop adorned with smaller decorative pieces. Not keen to speak of the second of the two pieces of finery, she often counts the poached points of her other necklace.
Bearing a true hand-and-a-half elven blade of indeterminate age as her favored weapon, it is uncertain if it were a tool of conflict initially her own or one which she liberated from her would-be killers. Forged of the rare ore mithral, it is polished to an exquisite silvery shine instead of dulled with age about the fine of the blade. Despite its characteristic remarkable lightness and finesse, the weapon is truly designed to be wielded with both hands by its bearer, yet Sakaala's great scale and greater strength allows her to wield it with deadly ease in a single pawed hand. Unnervingly, so much as drawing the blade - let alone swinging it - sets it to ring faintly in a short lived but soft harmonic hum, but more than anything the bite of the sword itself leaves such keen blows that they are almost unsettling to look upon.
Personality and Alignment:
Neutral Good
The benevolent matriarch, her inherently motherly animal nature follows her strongly with the incredible violence, that both magical and mundane, which she is capable of should she or those she considers her own be threatened. Kindly even toward those wary of her, her wrath is not easily provoked, but no threats made against her or those she views as companions are considered just idle. Perhaps unconsciously she tends to the wounded, acquires fresh provisions, and stays awake during watches all to ensure the continued survival of her adoptive company. Aging as she is, she has embraced the role of a vizier and sage, providing great insight and wisdom to those who inquire upon her.
No friend of evil and abiding by her own sense of morality, she is best described as an intellectual and spiritual benefactor.
Skills/Abilities:
Lore Expertise
Having lived such a varied and long life has graced Sakaala with many skills, the most notable is her vast knowledge upon matters ranging from historical events to distant locales, from to forces of nature to arcane mysteries. Self taught, her incredible recollection is imperfect and incomplete, but more often than not her acquired lore is relevant. She specializes in the intellectual categories of arcana, history, nature and locales with little greater knowledge on other matters.
Martial Adept
There are those who achieve martial proficiency through strength of arms alone and then there are those who acquire combat superiority by raw skill. Sakaala's inhuman strength and agility lend well to life lived by the sword, but it is her intuition, intelligence and force of personality that truly make her a deadly foe as she not only understands the principals of conflict, but actively anticipates them with preternatural skill. This so called "blade-magic" is a blend of martial arts, mysticism, and swordplay - at times engaging in impossible feats martial through magic and at others achieved by intense discipline and practice alone. Sakaala makes up for her disabilities by simply being more skillful and magically inclined than most her foes.
Bolstering Presence
While Sakaala is present, her mere warrior nature supernaturally inspires mental resolve and great courage in the face of fear among herself and allies. Effects that attack the mind are weakened, and attempts to intimidate or cause fear are dampened heavily as the body, emotion, mind, and spirit are made hardened against such effects.
Perfect Mind
Honed by intense exposure to offensive magic, Sakaala's force of personality provides her immense leverage against mind-affecting effects. The bane of charms, enchantments and illusions, she often rapidly comes to her senses, especially in the heat of battle or when her companions are threatened. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Steel Wind
This maneuver involves a sudden turn of the blade that lands an otherwise singular blow against one target to also connect with another. A difficult attack to employ in the hands of the untrained, its uncanny speed and incredible finesse work are further augmented by Sakaala's ambidexterity, making her a deadly foe against numbers of enemies, especially the lightly armored. This attack is effectively a single attack against multiple targets. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Wall of Blades
The agility Sakaala can display for brief periods of time even without her magic is unsettling. With lightning speed, Sakaala can counter a single melee or ranged attack, blocking or deflecting the worst of the blow with her own weapon, even in the worst of scenarios with precognition-like intuition. When expended, this ability takes a few moments to recover.
Seasoned Ranger
A born predator, Sakaala was one of many huntresses of her people, no less acting as a wildlands warrior in times of danger when threatened. Having survived alone from these skills for years, she is an able huntress and would be considered expert in the wilderness, capable of even eluding enemies and striking unexpectedly in natural environments. Of her practical skills, she is a trained gatherer of flora and fauna thus able to provide for herself and others in the ways of naturally provided rations, traditional medicine, pure water and various feats of outdoorsmanship. She is difficult to track when being followed and hardly inhibited by natural terrain.
Magic:
Channel Spell
The ability to cast magical spells and effects is no small wonder even in a world where magic is possibility, but the power to do so while accompanying martial maneuvers is another great feat altogether. Able to channel some of her spells through her natural and weapon attacks, she unleashes devastating blows that inflict a variety of other effects on the victims of the attack. Working in conjunction with her supernatural martial arts, she can perform these abilities often in unexpected ways such as casting a single spell and striking multiple foes with its effects at once. She is not only limited to a small selection of spells to channel a day, but cannot do so extensively without becoming exhausted mentally.
Bladeweave
A swing of the sword moves with awesome magical grace and almost rhythmic perfection while giving off glints of faint light. Any creature unfortunate enough to be struck might find itself briefly dazed for a moment of hesitation by the fascinating magical swordsmanship exhibited. Creatures that have already been dazed are just as likely to be dazed again, but those resistant to illusions are not likely to be so awed.
Combustion
A corona of roiling heated air sheathes the blade, leaving waves of intense heat in the wake. A creature or object struck by the weapon discharges the spell, causing the target to instantly ignite in a personal inferno and setting them intensely ablaze for a moment before the magical flames vanish. If hasty or fortunate, a creature can extinguish the lingering non-magical flames left behind - if not careful, they continue to burn with mundane fire until its fuel is exhausted or its air is cut off.
Enfeeblement
An ominous dark green glimmer envelops the weapon's blade and is discharged upon successful strike, magically debilitating the muscular strength of the victim. Each instance of crippled physical might is additive, and creatures depleted of their strength are temporarily paralyzed and rendered helpless. Their lost strength returns minutes later after the last blow endured.
Fatiguing
A faint dullness and aura of immaterial grey shrouds the weapon's blade and is discharged upon a successful blow. The so affected creature is overcome by fatigue, slowing its physical strength and reflexes greatly, but most notably leaving it tired and unable to run. The weight of their debilitation is brief, lasting only a few prolonged moments and once the effects wear off, they are no worse for wear because of it.
Shocking
A scatter of sparks and silent cyan-white lightning shudder about the sword's length, pulling it more accurately toward metal targets. Upon striking, the magical effect discharges with a dull localized clap of thunder and the target is struck by a mighty burst of lightning from the weapon, jarring them. This channeled effect is much more likely to land upon metal targets than those not bearing much metal.
True Strike
A bearer of a weapon to be imbued takes a brief moment to gain precognative insight into their next attack, greatly increasing its likelihood to land, yet this strength comes at the cost of denying the caster action for a moment. Now enchanted for its next blow, it ignores both magical and practical forms of concealment and seems to find the weakest point in the target's defenses. Once it strikes, the benefit ends and the aura of perfect clarity is gone.
Wraithstrike
A phantasmal air surrounds the now shimmering blade which is sheathed in ghostly wisps. For a brief moment, it strikes with deathly accuracy, penetrating conventional defenses such as armor or even benefits such as magical deflectiveness, needing only to merely touch the victim to deal its damage in full as though it were a spirit. Upon striking, the effect ends and the weapon returns to its normal qualities.
Natural Sorceress
As a creature born of magic, the very essence of latent power lies within Sakaala and those that were like her, infused with every ounce of their person. It is from this obscure pool that she draws upon, evoking sorcerous power on whim, but having deeply specialized in doing so; her repertoire of magical spells not vast or complex, but instead practical and martial. She blends the martial arts and swordplay with her magic instead of casting traditional spells by and far, although she can indeed manifest some purely magic effects.
Traditionally, few monstrous humanoids are able mages - instead relying upon their natural superiority to combat magical and mundane threats through sheer force and intuition. Sakaala, in spite of these things and the taboos of her now lost society, has taken up arcane power to compensate for her debilitation and growing age. It is known that many mortals are driven mad by arcane power with time, but many monsters seem no worse for wear.
As with all sorcerers, Sakaala's magic depletes throughout the day when she expends it. Recovering her inherent energy when she rests for a prolonged time, she relies upon measured application of mystic force so not to expend all of her magic in a short time although she is capable of doing so.
Least (0th) Arcane Mark, Amanuensis, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue
Lesser (1st) Nerveskitter, Shocking Grasp, Truestrike, Ray of Enfeeblement
Common (2nd) Combust, Bladeweave, Wraithstrike
Great (3rd) Haste, Dispel Magic
Arcane Mark
A visible or invisible permanent mark of magical enchantment is placed upon the target without causing harm. If placed upon a creature, it fades with time over a month. When invisible, it requires a creature that can see invisibility to notice the mark. Otherwise only an effect that detects magic renders the mark visible, but one must be able to read magic as well to understand its meaning, if it even has one.
Amanuensis
An invisible force, when provided with text to read and parchment, begins transcribing the mundane words of another work. The force continues to generate the copied text word for word on to the initially blank parchment, skipping any illustrations and magical enchantments it encounters in its work, leaving their locations empty. While it does not translate the writings, should they be in a language not understood, it does continue to copy them until its duration ends or it pauses, awaiting more parchment.
Detect Magic
The viewer can visually detect magical effects within their line of sight, out to a short distance as glowing radiation. If they wish to concentrate they may separate different auras and determine their strength, and with further concentration attempt to determine the specific spell effect that is active. Powerful magical effects and creatures leave lingering auras, and appear more distinctly upon focus.
Dispel Magic
A powerful, brief burst of nullifying magic affects a creature or object, or dispels an area instantly of any temporary magical effects and interrupts ongoing ones or those being cast. The dispelling affect always targets the most powerful spells first, then attempts to remove the progressively weaker ones of its target. Against a creature casting a spell, this effect causes the spell to immediately fail to cast.
Haste
The caster and nearby allies blur with sudden, lightning fast alacrity, moving with intense speed and reflexes. Their attacks become so rapid they are a near blur of motion, and their movement causes them to shimmer with enchanted speed. Striking more accurately and evading more rapidly, this effect lasts only a few intense prolonged moments.
Mage Hand
An invisible force may manipulate objects through concentration as though it were an extension of its master. Although capable of only lifting light objects, it has the full functionality of a phantasmal hand free of a body, giving it great range of motion. A form of very limited magical psychokinesis, its range is short and it disperses to nothing if it travels far.
Message
A distant conversation may be held at a whispered tone, sent to a small number of selected creatures. Although each may reply individually, the visibly spoken words are sent to all affected individuals. It bypasses line of sight, limited out to several hundred feet, but is stopped by magical silence, dense metal or stone, or several feet of earth or wood. The words spoken are identical to what is being said and do not transcend language barriers.
Nerveskitter
An icy rush races through the blood of the affected individual, spurring them to act or react to danger well before they regularly would be capable. Immediate in effect and its casting, it gives the the creature great precognition for but a moment, allowing them to act with greater initiative. Although limited in range out to a short distance, it heightens the senses and reactions greatly for a crucial few seconds.
Prestidigitation
This effect can generate a wide array of more minor effects, of which are humble yet practical uses of magic. They range from cleaning to dirtying an object, creating minor levitation in small objects, chill or warm slightly, ignite or extinguish mundane flames, create small fragile objects or play ethereal musical notes, and so forth. While it cannot duplicate stronger spells, it perhaps can evoke the illusion of greater magic at play.
Read Magic
Enabling a reader to explicitly read magically concealed text, it can be used to translate runes, scrolls, symbols and other forms of enchanted text. It does not invoke any latent magical effect of the writing, but it allows the reader to no longer require the ability to read that enchanted text through magic, giving them inherent understanding of it.
Backstory:
Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary
By "The Mage", quoted from "Anecdotes of a Reluctant Mercenary", Chapter VI "On the Subject of Sakaala"
"Hunter, warrior, arcanist - over the span of a lifetime one has many varied roles that they might confront, but few ever live them so fully as to explore them in their entirety. She however, has.
Undeniably left with the signs of terrible wounds past, most notably the blindness of her right eye and blatant lameness of the right arm, she has endured trials no one, be them man or beast, should be forced to confront alone. Born an exceptional huntress but appointed a warrior, she served loyally on behalf of her scarce peoples, keeping grim threats beyond, those we do not suffer, at bay. Although she, as with select others among her lot, served admirably on behalf man, not all men were so approving. It was in this she was forced to fight to the last beside those who had become her sisters on an ever losing front, but for all of her skill even she too was felled. She too has felt the bite of defeat... all the more memorable than that of victory.
She does not speak to us about what became of her children, but when you look upon her eyes you see that same hurt of someone with nothing left to her in this world. It is for these reasons she turned to things most men believe left better unknown - the arcane. For one reason or another, perhaps because she is not of mortal stock, she has acquired the capacity to wield this mystic thing as any other weapon. She has made her body, and even her blade, its conduit. It is all almost a direct extension of herself, the way in which she flows like graceful death both natural and magical; the manner in which she ably adapts her styles, be them as subtle as her favored hand to the placement of her feet, even in her age.
I wonder if she is truly satisfied now, watching over us like our matriarch - some relic of a dead people - blessing us with kindness we cannot possibly repay. After all, what could we offer her? We are but mere men; arrogant, brash, foolish and young. What really drives her to aid us in the heat of conflict or tend to our wounds thereafter? A motherhood she still lives vicariously?
Whatever the reason, she has more than earned my faith in her; my admiration for her." |
55,799 | 1,527 | 135 | 1,054 | 1,812 | Isabeau had not moved from her spot within the group. As each made attempt to address or calm the scared man behind the bar counter, she had only drifted towards the back, slowly and cautiously moving into the tavern, assessing each guest and their threat level. The conversation turned back to Sakaala. How overly gracious of the best woman to make such an offer. Not only would she not use a room and still part way with her coin, but she had also offered to fix the man's door. The barkeep stared at the large beast, whether it was out of awe or fear, curiosity or suspicion, it wasn't clear. But he slowly nodded to her and stuttered a single word. "Thanks".
Her nose wrinkled in thought, which had been split among too many variables to count. Dizzying to say the very least. Taking a moment to breathe, she shut them out long enough to gather enough coin for the barkeep. Enough for the room, dinner and enough gin to drown her pesky conscience and its thoughts.
"I will take the first room then, and gin along with my dinner please. Thank you." Her mouth seemed a bit dry, and her voice slightly hoarse with exhaustion. She glanced towards Ajax, though not at him persay, but more to spot the artifact on his person. She trusted him enough that he wouldn't kill her, either he had no reason to or she amused him somehow. But she couldn't yet make up her mind on whether or not she trusted him with the artifact. Everyone was at risk, but perhaps the question was Is he stupid enough to linger on it long enough to be corrupted? Is he stupid enough to keep it from me?. Creases formed around her lips as she pursed them. She hated not trusting people just as much as she hated having to trust people. Neither made her job any easier, and moreso it just gave headaches and heartache. But there seemed to be little choice in this matter, she have to trust him, as she imagined it wouldn't end well if she tried to take it from him. She loosed a soft sigh and turned her attention back to the barkeep.
"On second thought, I would like the strongest stuff you got, and I'll take that now, thank you. | Name: Isabeau Falkenrath
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5’7” tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.
Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.
Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.
Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.
Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin’s Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe’s movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards
In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.
Magic:N/A -see skills above
Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.
The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.
Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.
Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.
On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.
It wasn’t until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.
Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin’s Guild and was honed into the land’s deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.
~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened ((All to be revealed in rp)). Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right. |
55,800 | 1,527 | 136 | 2,420 | 2,392 | I don't think the inn is being robbed. Tarden muttered to himself, as if saying the words out loud would help him to believe them. He grabbed his pick and slowly headed downstairs. Foot after foot he creeped down the stairs and took a concealed look at the assembled group. Okay, the bar is being robbed was the only conclusion he could draw.
The various strangers that had entered the bar all towered around Jarkson as he cowered behind the bar. Well, except for one child who slept in the arms of a young man. The door lay across the floor in some pieces, and Tarden could only attribute that to the great hulking ball of muscle who stood stoically to the side. Jarkson was probably on his own, Tarden didn't think he take any one of them in a duel, let alone all of them. Except maybe the child he mused. Actually, I couldn't hit a child. I would lose that fight too. and his self esteem lowered just that little bit more
"On second thought, I would like the strongest stuff you got, and I'll take that now, thank you." It was one of the politest requests from a thief Tarden had heard, and she didn't look overly threatening to be honest. Eyes fool, minds don't! his father had once told him, and it was a much better idea to stay back before he jumped to any conclusions. He had an uneasy sense of danger when he looked at her. If it came to a fight he knew she'd be much faster than him, but he had every other advantage. But deep down, he still knew he'd lose, and he couldn't put his finger on why he felt that.
He quickly moved himself back into a concealed position and thought about what he could do, singing a silent prayer that Jarkson had this under control. | Name: Tarden of the Fair Lands, or Tarrey to his friends
Species: Human Male
Age: 37
Description:
Tarden wears brownish and orangey cloths draped over hardened cloth armour, almost fully covering his arms and torso. He keeps his head wrapped up with the same coloured materials leaving only his eyes visible. He is instantly recognisable as foreign, his dark skin visible through the eye slit and his distinctive accent
On his back he wears a large sack with all his belongings and a war pick, not often seen in these parts and liberally decorated in red cloths. He also often has a small wooden shield on his forearm, which is also concealed beneath red cloths, all of which follow his blows and sweep through the air with every attack
Personality: Despite being a foreigner, he remains open to new company, and finds the drinks of this land are a great ice-breaker.
Although he is met with mistrust, he tries to be open and honest in his dealings, and will always stop to help a fellow in need
Tarden deeply misses his homeland as much as he has a thirst for exploration. Some events can tip him over to one side more than the other, but it tends to balance out
Skills/Abilities:
- Tarden has inherited a natural hardiness from his homeland, and from travelling around. This and his clothes give him a good resistance to the elements
- Tarden is of a good build, never having been hard on his luck and constantly traveling means he can overpower an average human
- The people of the fair lands are famous for their quick firing of small bows, and although he does not bear such a weapon, Tarden is also very quick. This does not translate very well to his war-pick, but in most other activities he can exercise good and extremely quick dexterity. Nothing superhuman, but sometimes impressive
- From smithing farming tools to using them to cultivate a field, travelling has granted Tarden many skills in all areas
Magic:
The people of the fair lands have a distaste for magic of almost all kinds, but still develop and use minor artefacts and tinctures to counter both superstitions and real mana alike. Tarden possesses such items like
- A small bell that when rung echoes back from enchantments in a small area around him, including people under enchantments (however the reliability of this power is subject to the winds of magic/plot!)
- A knot of rope made from the hair of goat’s firstborn. When drenched in alcohol it lets off a distinct vapour that when inhaled protects against any sort of magical influence (allegedly)
- An extremely bouncy and soft rock, and another small rock that almost acts like a magnet towards it
- A lucky coin! Which for some reason no matter how hard Tarden tries he can’t get rid of it, like his father before him and his father before him. Passed on from generation to generation, when discarded it just appears in Tarden’s pocket again shortly afterwards. Aside from that it doesn’t appear to have any use
Backstory: The fair lands is situated far to the south of Waeldershore, and is known for it’s deserts and songs. The latter of which are sung throughout daylight hours in the village hall of every settlement passing over every dry wooden hut there, lifting the atmosphere in such a way that visitors find magical. It is said that in times past folk made a deal with the sand spirits, that the land would belong to man as long as man’s sweet song kept the sand spirits in their slumber. It is also said that every sandstorm is a sand spirit waking up, and the rains are the spirits dreaming
Tarden’s village came under threat from a rival peoples, and he was tasked with delivering a ruby idol to their clan to appease them. He was ambushed on the way, losing everything he had. When he returned home they banished him, and last he heard the sand reclaimed all that was once there
Since then he has been travelling across the world, and although he misses his homeland he still longs to see every corner of the world, working as a farmer here, a mercenary there or a sailor over there. He enjoys the life he leads and the people he meets. |
55,801 | 1,527 | 137 | 2,782 | 1,198 | Ajax nodded at the man, offering a grin as the details of their stay were worked out. "Well there you go, this doesn't have to be terribly unpleasant for anyone" he said in an honestly merry tone as he picked the door back up as though it were a simple plank and carried it towards the hole it had once covered, setting it down in such a way that it at least partially blocked the entrance to the establishment. And then it kind of hit him. "Oh right. I lost what little I had fighting the demon summoner living in a cursed mansion right up the road" he casually uttered, making a little pause to let the words sink in.
Ajax was, indeed, quite literally stripped down to his undergarments. Unless he had some gold hidden there somewhere, he wasn't lying when he said he had absolutely nothing left to give whether the townsfolk bought into the talk of evil sorcerers or not. Of course, if those words were true then maybe these people could be seen as heroes and then they could get some free lodging. "Ajax Diagorides always pays his debts, however. Surely you have a problem that needs solving. Something to move, something to raze, a limb to break...", he said as he cocked an eyebrow at the man. "I won't judge. There's always something". | Name: Ajax Diagorides
Species: Human
Age: 40
Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.
Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.
Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.
Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It’s not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.
Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.
Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.
It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.
His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.
-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.
Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.
With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.
Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.
As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.
So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.
He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.
Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus. |
Subsets and Splits