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Collab - Basil and Cassius Somewhere in the grasslands just north of Kvatch a platoon of 80 Imperial soldiers had set up an encampment, utterly oblivious to the chaos happening just south of their position. It was a scattering of red tents and heavily-armoured guards. From within, the hustle and bustle of everyday life could be seen and heard; various men and women wandered from tent to tent. The resident blacksmith had set up his rudimentary smithy on the outskirts, which released a plume of greyish smoke into the air. Stablehands tended to the horses which pulled their supply cart. The alchemy tent was a cacophony of clinking glasses and roughly slammed books. The platoon’s resident alchemist, a middle-aged Redguard woman by the name of Basil, was in a sour mood and she took it out on her belongings. Just outside of her tent a large cast-iron cauldron was set over a small fire with a thin reddish liquid simmering within. There were old logs arranged outside of most tents to work as impromptu stools and one of the armoured foot soldiers was hunkered down near Basil’s tent, cleaning his boots. “You want to talk about it?” Cassius spoke in Redguard woman’s direction, his eyes and most of his attention still fixed on wiping at his boots. Basil paused and pretended to read her potion book as her face contorted into a thoughtful scowl instead of a grumpy one. She did not answer the question, but spoke instead; “I thought it was our job to protect people.” “It is, but it’s also our job to follow orders. Orders that are most of the time more important when carried out undelayed.” Cassius paused. He rested the damp cloth on the boot in his lap to look up at the woman, his hands planted on his thighs. Basil responded to his actions by slowing down a bit, if only to glower at him over the cauldron. “They needed help, Cass. We could’ve at least tracked down their camp for them! Why’s the platoon always in such a big hurry? I highly doubt Kvatch has changed since the last time we saw it, and it’s not as if Anvil’s about to suddenly disappear on us.” She tossed a bulbous root into the cauldron ferociously and made a ‘tch!’ noise when it splashed onto her heavy leather gloves. “80 soldiers, a handful of medics, an alchemist and a blacksmith walk into a village of raided villagers and decide to fuck right off before the sun sets…” she muttered venomously under her breath. “We’ve sent a notice to other nearby legions that aren’t on direct orders, as far as -we’re- concerned they’ve already been robbed. Whether we helped them now, or another legion helps them in a few days.” Cassius spoke, attention still directed at Basil. In silence he lifted the polished boot off his lap and placed it beside the other one. Basil opened her mouth, narrowed her eyes, shut her mouth, clenched her jaw and hissed out a sigh through her nostrils. “I hate it when you’re right,” she snapped and used the last vestiges of her anger to stir a rapidly thickening concoction in the cauldron. Cassius couldn’t help but crack a smirk at Basil’s admit of defeat. Without another word he stood up and patted his hands off on his trousers just as a bedraggled and bloodstained man came staggering through the plains calling for help. The survivor collapsed to his knees near the southern entrance to the campsite. He was covered in soot; his armour was singed but the wolf’s head on the tunic could still be recognisable as a member of Kvatch’s city watch. He cradled his left forearm into the bloodsoaked fabric. Upon closer inspection, it was apparent that the blood on his garments was his own and a massive gash wound tore through the muscle and blood vessels just above his wrist. “P-please,” he sobbed with pain and fear, “the city...it’s overwhelmed-...monsters!”

Character Name: Basil D’ashar   Age: 36   Race: Redguard   Sex: Female   Birthsign: The Steed     Specialisation: Mixed   Class: Alchemist   Skills: Expert Alchemy Journeyman Blunt One-Handed Journeyman Light Armour Apprentice Acrobatics Apprentice Mercantile Apprentice Foraging Apprentice Leather/Fabric-Work     Appearance: Basil stands at a fairly average height of 5’7”. Her physique fluctuates between skinny and muscular, revealing a lifestyle of poor nutrition and hard labour. Her skin is surprisingly dark, even for a Redguard, and patches of it shine with greyish scars and burn marks. It is weathered - coarse hands, ashen elbows, cracked feet and thin lines on the face. Her breasts are small, her bottom is flat. She’s missing a pinky toe on her left foot.   Her face, like her body, is a mixture of bone and muscle. She has fairly prominent cheekbones and a pronounced brow alongside her thick black eyebrows. Her eyes are almond shaped, adorned with faint crow’s feet and eye bags. Unlike the dark brown of a typical Redguard, Basil’s eyes are a brilliant yellow-green colour. Her nose is wide and has been broken before; her lips are full and typically pushed into a faint smile. Basil doesn’t have any hair - it is shaved off.   When it comes to clothing, Basil mourns the lack of variety. Aside from her mixed leather and chainmail armour she owns a set of travelling robes and a spare pair of boots. The colours she wears are muted and earthy. She shows no visible piercings and wears no jewellery, save for a sabre tooth on an old and grimy piece of rope around her neck.   Personality: Basil tends to do the right thing; not out of a moral obligation but more due to the fear  regret. In other words, she doesn’t have to help other people but feels compelled to or else she’ll be guilty for weeks. This behaviour is tempered by a wariness learnt over time but it ultimately won’t stop her from giving people the benefit of a doubt.   Basil is an inquisitive soul who enjoys learning and discovering new things. This also makes it easier for her to make new friends as she genuinely listens to what they have to say. Unfortunately, this curiosity can also lead her into some fairly difficult situations to get out of and she is well aware of her limits and unafraid of asking for help if she needs it.   Backstory: The D’ashar family may not be the most wealthy nor the most powerful, but they have a tendency to spread out across the continent and breed like rabbits. Basil was born and raised in the port town of Rihad, just off the border of Cyrodiil. Even before she understood what was going on she was able to recognise that she had an absurd amount of relatives and a lot of them had travelled a long way to give gifts and congratulate her mother Danari. This close-knit yet far-reaching family network would play a powerful influence on Basil as she grew older, but we’ll get back to that.   The port is a prosperous and wealthy place to live in and Basil grew up as a healthy and happy child. This did not stop her parents from instilling some discipline and a good work ethic; her mother had Basil work at the docks whilst her father, Hamud, was often absent due to military service. Life was incredibly easy and enjoyable during her younger years. She had many friends, multiple teenage crushes, and went to a multitude birthday parties and celebrations.   But as Basil grew into her late teens, the question of work began to press upon her mind. She was at a loss on what to do; part of her wanted to stay in Rihad and remain a dock worker simply because she knew how to do it. Another part of her wished to hit the road like her cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents, but she knew that she was not strong enough to look after herself. Basil’s kindheartedness also swayed her towards helping others, a habit she formed early on but wished to expand upon...but becoming a healer was practically unheard of in Rihad and she knew that she did not have the knack for learning magic.   When one of her second cousins started talking about an old friend of a friend who worked as an alchemist, Basil tracked down the man and begged him to take her as an apprentice. It was a craft which was versatile enough to be used to help others and protect herself. The ingredients were easy enough to find right now as most of them were locally sourced, but as her aptitude in Alchemy increased she would have to be able to travel further and further to find what she needs for that next potion. Basil believed that she would be able to teach herself how to fight and eventually leave to go into Cyrodiil.   After a few years of apprenticeship, she had learnt everything that her mentor could teach her. It took a couple of weeks, a big goodbye party and a lot of tears to finally part from the family home. On the road, Basil truly began experiencing the hardships of living outdoors which set her back more than the fear of wolves and bandits ever could. She was a few months into her travels and barely made it into Cyrodiil, too nervous to leave from her well-established campsite in the middle of a forest.   That is, of course, until a random Legionnaire staggered through the woods whilst Basil was foraging for food. She watched him incoherently call out to her, gurgle, then crumple to the floor. Shocked and afraid of abandoning him, Basil dragged the man back to her campsite and nursed him back to health. She discovered that the man was called Cassius, and he was part of a large squadron of Legionnaires who regularly patrolled Cyrodiil and kept the outer regions safe from local threats. Basil sensed her opportunity to finally escape the forest under the guard of a real life soldier, so she offered to help him find his squadron again.   After a couple of months of looking after Cassius Basil had made a good friend out of him. She was unwilling to leave but knew she wasn’t nearly battle-ready. Luckily, Cassius’ superiors informed her that being part of the Legion was not reserved solely for footsoldiers; Basil could be hired on as an unofficial aide, working as their platoon’s alchemist to supply potions for their field medics. The possibility of 80 soldiers keeping her safe and the ability to learn some actual combat training whilst being paid were more than enough to persuade Basil to take on a contract. She’s been working with these soldiers for ten years now.     Spells: N/A   Inventory: At least 2 hip flasks of potable water Basic dried herbs and reagents to make 5 potions Small pewter cauldron Spare clothes One-Handed sword Flint and steel Old book, pages used for kindling Simple repair kit (needles, waxed thread, bunches of leather straps/patches, rags) Tent and bedroll 1 weeks’ worth of rations 2 basic healing potions 1 vial basic poison 1 vial basic antidote for aforementioned poison (just in case!) 5 empty vials Mortar and pestle Alchemy Journal Botanical textbook Ink and Quill 200 septims

As the group traveled through the tall, sinister tower, Aveca clutched her bow tight, an arrow ready to be drawn back. The realm had her on her toes, and she assumed most of the group felt similarly. It was impossible to be at ease with the scent of burning flesh and blood surrounding you, and with charred corpses and fountains of blood marking the halls they traveled. "Huh. I wonder who actually does the guard patrols for Dremora. Do you think there's a roster? Night shifts? Lunch breaks? Do Daedra even have lunch?" Aveca heard the other mage ahead of her speaking as if to herself. She found the idea nearly comical, and tried to imagine the situation. A group of Daedra guards sitting around a lunch table, mugs of ale, playing dice on their break. She tried to imagine it like a group of guards back home might talk. One of them talks about his new daughter. Her eyebrows drew together as she dispelled the image. It was impossible; they weren't like people back home. They weren't people. The idea proposed that they were some type of hivemind seemed most plausible to her, though she was no scholar in this department. When they were finally halted in their upwards journey by a locked door, the only option was to cross a narrow, very high up "bridge," which she hesitated to call such because she didn't want to insult good bridges. She edged to the front of the group to peer over the edge and felt her stomach churn. Two warriors easily volunteered to cross. Aveca pondered for a moment if they would need a healer, but she recalled Valentis using some Restoration magic, so she allowed herself to step back from the door with relief. She would be better served here is a wave of Daera came upon them, and perhaps others would be better suited to crossing such a bridge. "I'll stay here in case someone is injured in the fighting," Aveca said aloud, despite thinking I'm not the best with heights. She felt a bit embarrassed, but she turned to one of the benches and examined it. It was dark in colour and not something she found herself wanting to sit on, but her legs were tiring from the journey and fighting. She touche it with one hand and it almost felt greasy, but she sighed and sat down on it anyway.

Character Name: Aveca Ice-Bear Age: 26 Race: Nord Sex: Female Birthsign: The Steed Specialisation: Magic/Stealth Class: Healer Skills: Expert: Restoration Journeyman: Marksman (Bow), Alteration, Alchemy (Craft) Apprentice: Destruction, Speechcraft, Hunting (Craft) Novice: Mercantile, Illusion, Acrobatics Appearance: Aveca stands at about 5’6” tall. She has the characteristic pale white skin of the Nords, as well as fair coloured features. Her hair is a light white-blonde colour with some yellowish tones. She has choppily cut bangs (done herself with a sharpened knife, quite carefully) that swoop in around her face, down to about nose length. The rest of her hair is usually kept either in a braid or in a messy bun, but when left long it goes down just past her armpits. Her eyes are a blue-gray tone, and her face is lightly freckled. She is also able-bodied. She wouldn't get called a muscular person in general – you wouldn’t catch her in chainmail – but her body is accustomed to exercise and comfortable with the weight of drawing a bowstring. She never let herself get lax just because she practices magic. As far as scarring and blemishes, Aveca has few. As a healer, she has usually been able to heal any more recent scars, but she has some very light markings (faded by time) up her legs and arms from the usual childhood rough activity and learning to hunt in her younger years. Between her youth and her training, she got one significant scar, which is a simple gash mark on her leg from a run in with a bear. Aveca has little need for armor. She tries to avoid direct combat, so armor would in the end only inhibit the way she tries to weave around a battle and aid the injured. She prefers simple clothes, leggings and a tunic, or sometimes a dress or skirt. These she always wears over leggings and with boots, as she likes to be prepared for any situation. Personality: Aveca is a healer, and that is her passion, but it could in no way define all she is. She believes in aiding the wounded and sick, and wants to go out across the world and help good people, but she also has a fairly strong sense of justice and can be harsh with it at times. She won’t aid you regardless of who you are on the basis of you being a living being. After all, hunter and healer don’t tend to correlate. She isn’t afraid to throw fire around if it comes down to a fight, but she much prefers to avoid one. The bow she carries, she prefers to use for hunting than on people. Her passion is much more around the idea of widespread misery and sickness; her interests lie in sickness and disease, in the curing of plagues and foreign illnesses. She has an apt and interest for academic learning, but can become bored easily if it isn’t related to her interests (being healing, alchemy, living things, cultures, languages). Despite this, she tends to help first and ask questions later. She will heal someone without a second thought in an instant, because she would rather help someone and expect them to be a good person than not take the risk in case they may be less savory. However, if ever she was betrayed she would retaliate in full force. Overall, Aveca is a happy and optimistic person. She wants to travel and experience the world, to meet, to help, and to socialize with people from everywhere there is. She is generally willing to engage in a conversation at any time and with anyone, as long as she isn’t trying to heal. She takes her work seriously and doesn’t like distractions while she is actively doing a spell. One thing is that you don’t want to get into an argument with her. She’ll get heated over anything she has an opinion on, and she won’t let go, either. Backstory: Katla and Eirn were rather typical Nords. They met in Markarth, where Katla lived with her family (merchants), and Eirn travelled through as a hunter selling meats. He trekked back and forth across Skyrim all his life, with his parents and then later on his own. He met Katla at the market there, and found himself coming to Markarth more and more often. Her family disapproved, but they married and she too to travelling with him. She enjoyed the adventure. When Aveca and her sister, Laisa, were born, their parents stopped for a time at a camp they built outside of Whiterun. It provided some stabililty for the young girls. As they grew older, their parents started travelling with them more. They had a cart and tents, so it wasn’t as though they lived in total discomfort. Aveca was quite fond of the dirt and the travel, whereas Laisa was jealous of the nicely dressed children they met in cities. Over the years, Aveca learned hunting from their father from a very young age, and their mother taught Laisa the ways of business so she could go out on her own someday, without having to depend on someone else. When she was 13, Aveca asked her family to take her north to the College of Winterhold to learn, and they did. Her mother was a firm believer in doing what you want to do. At first try, the nice man at the gate told her and her mother that they simply couldn't let in a totally untrained mind, and at such an age, though he would have liked to. He asked her to gain some preliminary knowledge and to return in a few years. Her mother was frustrated, and, determined for her daughter to have what she wanted, they traveled to Markarth and left Aveca with a mage she knew from her life there. He was an Alteration mage named Aenar who worked in the temple. She spent a year and a half with him and helped him with his work, while developing a base knowledge of how magic works and how to preform it. She learned a solid base of novice spells and returned to the College with her family just as she was almost 15. This time, they let her in to learn more after she demonstrated that she had the skill for learning it. For the first few years she studied generally and with vigor, but when she was 17, her family travelled north to tell her that her mother had died of an illness. She never got the chance to say goodbye because of the distance. Her sister was still ill with the same sickness, however it was less advanced and the mages in Winderhold healed her. This ignited Aveca’s passion more specifically for healing and she undertook learning all she possibly could about it. She had a knack for magic and dedicated her whole life to it from the age of 17 until she was 24. She still kept hunting on as a hobby, something she did for an afternoon every week, maybe. As for Laisa, when she was 18 she made some business connections and set up a shop in Riften. When Aveca was 24, she herself deemed her training temporarily complete. She had a very advanced training in healing, as well as alchemy and alteration, but she didn’t have the same knack for the rest of the schools and she didn’t focus on them nearly as much. She left the college of her own accord and again travelled Skyrim with her father for a good number of months until she passed south to Cyrodill from Riften, after a visit with her sister. Once there, she used a mixture of hunting, healing, and alchemy to make an income. She started in the north in Burma, and travelled south through Chorrol, Skingrad, and finally Kvatch. During this time she travelled very light, with a sac on her back for various alchemical pursuits, and very little else. She stayed in inns in the cities as long as she could afford to do so. Spells: Restoration: Heal Minor Wounds, Major Respite, Cure Paralysis, Cure Poison, Heal Superior Wounds, Devour Health, Cure Disease, Superior Convalescence Alteration: Lightning Shield, Water Breathing, Water Walking, Protect Other, Destruction: Electric Touch, Flash Bolt, Frost Touch Illusion: Illuminate, Soothing Touch Inventory: Steel Bow Quiver of Iron Arrows (x20) Iron Dagger (more for daily use than fighting) Pair of black leggings Sturdy leather boots Light blue tunic Brown cotton dress, white corset, decent quality Travelling cloak Leather belt with pouches Waterskin Knapsack, leather Bedroll with bedding Mortar and Pestle Alchemical ingredient pouch (mostly herbs for healing potions, but with some other ingredients) Vials and corks for those potions Minor Magika Potions (x2) 75 Septims Dried meats, bread, cheese

So they had reached the first tower without much trouble. Brona’s gazed swept around the interior of the first tower. Jagged obsidian walls, a befitting design for Daedra she mused. Niko, and Valentis were the first to set out across fiery chasm. Her eyes remained locked on the fading image of their backsides until they had reached the other tower. Turning back around she eyed those who remained. Engel, Renart, Aveca, Orintur, Adamiir, Naenya, and Bardeck with his hound chose not to go. To be fair, they could remain behind… but strength was in numbers, especially in a place like this. “Bah. I’m not going to stay here and twiddle my thumbs. Death comes to those who wait. And waiting around like a pigeon with my beak up my ass isn't my kinda business.” So, with a spring in her step, Brona followed after Niko and Valentis. If Death was coming for her, she'd rather meet it head on then tremble and quiver like the last leaf to fall in the first of winter. The narrow bridge leading across the chasm was… daunting, to say the least. Heights didn't bother her, but falling into a gurgling pit of fire did. She swallowed hard, lifting her arms out to the side for added balance. When she made it halfway across the bridge, the heat from the lake of fire caused her brow to bead with sweat. She could feel her asscheeks sticking together as sweat poured down her back, the tunic clung to her like a second skin. ‘Nothing but rocks and fire. And demons. And nasty little imps.’ Brona thought. It seemed the Divines were on her side today. She reached the end of the bridge, and rushed after the two men. “Can't leave me behind, you hear?” She said with a smile as she approached them. “Sometimes a woman's touch is all you need.” Brona winked at the two of them.

Character Name Brona Valerivicus Age 33 Race Imperial Sex Female Birthsign The Thief Specialisation Stealth Class Agent Skills Expert - Illusion Journeyman - Sneak Journeyman - Speechcraft Apprentice - Marksman Apprentice - Security Apprentice - Acrobatics Novice - Mercantile Novice - One-Handed Blades Novice - Leatherworking {Craft} Novice - First Aid Novice - Hunting {Craft} Appearance If you happen to catch a glimpse of Brona Valerivicus, which is rare, as she is often using some form of Illusion magick to conceal her identity, you might consider yourself lucky, or maybe not.. However, during one of those quiet moments in her life when she is relaxing in some run down inn, sipping on a mugful of hot apple cider, one can see through the array of magick, and when that happens, one must take precaution in approaching her. Brona is a bit on the shorter side for an Imperial, standing in at 5’4, she attributes this to her stunted growth during childhood. In regards to her figure, she is rather slim, which helps her move around without making much noise. Her shoulders are broad from time spent wielding her bow, as well as the continued use of athletics and acrobatics. When it comes to a matter of clothing, Brona wears simple clothes, as she’s busy redistributing the wealth to the poorer folk, and doesn’t have the time or care to divulge in fanciful tastes. For that matter, a simple linen tunic, a pair of leather trousers, and a hooded cloak is more than enough to satisfy her. She won’t deny it, the fact that men find her attractive, or that she has an approachable face, as her mentor once put it. Her hair is a soft, dark brown color, while her eyes are cool storm-grey. She has a soft jawline, though her chin is round with a slight cleft. As in her choice of clothes, Brona prefers a simple appearance, meaning, she keeps her hair worn in a single plait, and opts to forgo makeup, leaving her to rely on her good looks. As for the most noticeable facial features, Brona possesses a faded scar on the right side of her chin, where she fell out of a tree as a child. Other than that, her brows are thick in width, but fair. Her nose has a slight hook to it, as she also suffered from a broken nose as a result of a fist fight in her childhood days. If anything, she possesses the common characteristics of an Imperial. Personality If one happened to ask Brona where she stood in the world when concerning her views, she would tell you that she stands in the shadows, meaning, that there is no white or black areas, but varying shades of grey. To her, there is no right or wrong, only what is moral, or immoral. But even then, she commits acts that contradict her beliefs. Some may call her a hypocrite, or even a heretic, but that does not faze her. She does what she must to stay alive. Asides from her Robin Hood-esque persona, Brona is a soft spoken woman, who prefers to keep to herself. She has no need to interact with anyone else, unless they are in need, or if they are her mark. She is concerned with the well-being of her family, and has, and will continue to do anything for them. To her, family is everything, and while she is not religious, so to speak, when it concerns the worship of the Nine Divines, she does maintain a small belief of fate and destiny. As a vigilante, as she calls herself, she prefers to target the rich who are selfish with their wealth, and are openly disgusted with the poor. In this case, she has no problem in robbing them blind. When it comes to stealing from the rich, although she prefers to call it “properly redistributing wealth amongst the people”, Brona has several ways of taking their money or other items of value. However, she always uses some form of Illusion magick in her tactics. As such, she can intimidate, seduce, or even rely on her physical skills of stealth to take from them, for this, she is dangerous with her way of words. Some would say that she has a silver tongue in speechcraft. Because of her choice in craft, Brona doesn’t have any friends, only “acquaintences” or “contacts”. She finds it particularly difficult to open up to people about her inner emotions, and prefers to switch topics when discussions become too serious. For this, some might say that she is a bit immature in her ways for refusing to address serious matters. Yet, this is simply a defense mechanism, for she would rather deal with it internally, than express her concerns or worries externally. When it comes to her flaws as a person, Brona suffers from a saviour-complex, where she believes that her crimes as a thief, make her a hero, or saviour to those in need. For the most part, this is true, however, those that she helps, are rather afraid of the repercussions of the law if they were to discover how they came into sudden abundance. Brona is also a bit of an idealist, and views herself in a heroic light, and believes those that she helps, should be grateful for what she does. Not to mention that she is also paranoid in the sense that she is constantly worrying if the Imperial guard is going to come around any corner and slap her in irons. Another glaring issue with her, is the fact that she is illiterate. Asides from this, Brona’s deepest fear as an individual, is not leaving a legacy behind, and being forgotten in time. Backstory Born in a run-down shack, as is common in the Waterfront District of the Imperial City, Brona lived a hard life, her early years filled with an ever present gnawing hunger. Her parents, Arcantina (mother), and Palentius (father), did their best to feed and care for their four children. As the oldest child, a heavy burden fell upon Brona’s young shoulders. She was left to ensure that her younger siblings were taken care of in their parents absence. As farmhands, Arcantina and Palentius travelled every morning to a cabbage farm on the outskirts of the Imperial City, they were lucky to make it home before dusk. The pay as a farm hand was meager, and having a full stomach every night was a pipe-dream for the struggling family. Asides from Brona, she has two twin brothers, Garius and Marcellus, and a little sister, Oriela. While Brona shares a two year difference in age with her brothers, the age difference is greater with Oriela, that being five years difference. Garius and Marcellus did their best to mind Brona, but it was hard to do so when their parents weren’t around. She often chided them for playing tricks on the guards, or picking on the other children living in the Waterfront. By the time they reached eight years in age, and Brona ten, the boys’ interests turned to fighting with broken tree limbs. It was then, that Brona had to turn her attention from the twins to focus more on Oriela. She seemed to be a sickly child, for every change of the weather, she developed a cough that they could never seem to be rid of. As time passed, Brona carried on with the charge of taking care of her siblings, until the day her mother fell ill with Droops. With her mother unable to provide income, the greater lack of funds put much stress on Palentius, as well as Brona. One day, as an entire month and a half had gone by, with still no medicine for her mother, Brona decided to take it upon herself to acquire the funds, and ventured inside the city walls. At first, she spent the entire day in the Market District, sitting on a bench, begging for alms. Of course it was hard for a young girl of fifteen to earn money, for the sympathy at that age was little to nil. As the hours ticked by, she began to grow impatient and irritated at the fact that she had not been given one septim. While her pleas for help were ignored, the dwindling sunlight drew people inside to the warmth and safety of their homes. Crestfallen that she would have to admit defeat, she rose begrudgingly to her feet, when she caught sight of an older Dunmeri man strolling away from the market square. His robes alone suggested that he had some coin about him, for there were intricate knotwork around the hems of his robes. Desperate to obtain even one septim, Brona darted to her feet and followed after the man. She tailed him through the streets, not realizing that the man was intentionally leading her in circles until she ended up in a dead end alleyway. With the man at the end of the alley, he turned suddenly to confront her. She had nowhere to hide, and decide that the best course of action would be to confront him head on. With trembling hands, and tears in her eyes, Brona reached to the pouch at her hip, and retrieved a rock. She took a hesitant step towards the man, and was surprised to see a smile cross his lips. She had it in her mind, that she would threaten him with his life by knocking him out, but as soon as that smirk appeared, she lost every ounce of confidence in her body. Brona sank to her knees, saddened with the fact that her mother’s health would continue to deteriorate at this rate, possibly face the inevitable approach of death. As a wave of stinging tears blurred her vision, she could only see a grey blob of the man step towards her. Hastily, she wiped away the tears, and struggled to get away from the man, in case he meant her harm, but a cold, iron-like grip kept her in place. “Dear child...why do you cry?” His voice came, soft and gentle like an early morning breeze across Lake Runmare. “My mother is sick, and she might die. We have no money for her medicine. I have begged all day for alms, but none have given me a second glance.” She mustered through a lump in her throat. Surprisingly, the hand on her shoulder softened. “It would do you well to come with me. Perhaps I can help you after all. What is your name, sweet girl?” “Brona, my mother calls me Brona.” “I am Runil Devani.” In a twist of fate, Brona’s life turned around, some may say for the better, and others may say for the worse. Later that evening, as Runil brought Brona back to his home, a small house just outside of the Arcane University, where he proceeded to pour her cup after cup of tea. Therein, he asked her about her parents, her siblings, where she lived, what she desired in life, and numerous other questions. When her eyes began to grow heavy with sleep, Runil set up a place for her to sleep in front of the hearth fire. By the time morning came, Runil woke a sleepy Brona from her slumber, and escorted her back to her parents home in the Waterfront District. There, an ashamed Brona, who thought her parents would surely punish her, listened in silence to the conversation her mother and father held with Runil. As the conversation drew to a close, she felt deep inside that her parents would exact some kind of punishment for behaviour, instead, Runil proposed a question to them. How would they feel if he took their daughter under his wing as an apprentice? At first, Palentius exchanged weary looks with Arcantina, who with her pale skin, and drooping eyes, looked as if they would both say no. That is, until Arcantina gave her husband a heartfelt squeeze of the hand and nodded. To this day, Brona won’t ever forget the words her mother uttered to Palentius. “Let her go. She has the best chance of all us to have a life.” Over the next several years to come, Brona resided with Runil in his home near the University. While she was an unofficial member of the university, as long as she remained in Runil’s company, she was allowed on the premises. In the beginning of her lessons, Runil taught her simple things that did not pertain to magick, such as how to cook a simple meal, how to properly maintain a house, and even how to boil water for clothes, and how to wash them proper with lye. One would think Brona would already possess these skills, but as her early childhood would prove, she was ignorant in most areas. The next step in her lessons were discovering her strong points in magick, if she had any that is. Through each school of magick, Runil tested her, and in each school, she failed hopelessly, until they came to Illusion. There was one glaring aspect that held up her learning process, and for the life of him, Runil could not think of a way to work around it, and that was, her illiteracy. As a mage of any kind, it was dire to know how to read, especially when learning new spells. However, one path around this most successful. He discovered that if he read aloud each word in the spell tome to Brona, she could recite them back to him as he pointed to each letter on the page. This would take time, surely, and time it did take, for it slowed her learning process greatly. While she could recognize and read letters in the spell tomes after Runil pronounced them aloud, she never caught the hang of reading other books outside of tomes. So, together, they stuck with her reciting spell tomes from memory to teach her new spells. To his delight, Brona had a hunger in her belly to learn all that she could from him. Years passed again, and practicing of the spells on a daily basis became commonplace for her. Yet, she never forgot about her family, and when she could, she found time to visit them. After five years in Runil’s home, Brona happened upon an uncanny situation in the Market District one evening. As she was heading through the square, on her way to the Waterfront, she noticed a box of crates outside of Divine Elegance, a high-end tailor shoppe. Curious to see what the crates held, Brona checked the square to make certain that no patrons or patrolling guards were present in the area, and cast an invisibility spell about herself. Working quickly as the seconds ticked by, Brona lifted the lid on the crate, and discovered several bolts of fine velvet that came from Anvil. A sudden wave of disgust overcame her, and as the spell wore off, she smuggled one of the smaller bolts onto her person, and made off on her merry way. In her mind, Palonirya wouldn’t miss a bolt of cloth amongst all the other finer items of value in her store. That evening she stayed the night over in her parents home, eager to see how Garius and Marcellus had grown, and how Oriela had turned into a beautiful woman. They relished in her visits home, and they were excited to hear and see of the new spells she learned. The next morning as dawn broke across the eastern horizon, Brona slipped away from the house, and made her way down to the docks. There, she looked about for wary guards, and also one particular in person, her own father’s childhood friend Caresi. He was a dockhand that helped in unloading shipments with arriving ships, but he also dabbled in selling stolen wares. Those who had stolen goods to sell brought them to him, and he in return, brought them to the Bloated Float Inn. There, Ormil sold them to newcomers for a higher price. Together, Ormil and Caresi split the shares, Ormil takes 70% and Caresi gets the remaining 30%. It’s not a lucrative business by any means, and the wares that are brought to the Bloated Float are limited in supply. When Brona finally located Caresi on the docks during a break in between unloading shipments, she cornered him, and revealed to him the stolen bolt of fine velvet she had stashed in her parents home. At first, Caresi wanted nothing to do with it, he didn’t want to take the blame for Brona if he were found out, so she set off to find Ormil. She had a hard time convincing Graman to let her inside, and to let her speak with Ormil. Eventually the orc relented and shooed her inside, saying something along the lines that she was worse than a fly on dung. Once inside, Brona pulled Ormil to the side, and relayed what she had told Caresi. Hesitant at first, Ormil too, relented, simply because he understood the value of such fine velvet, and if he couldn’t sell it, well it would make a nice early-birthday present to him. However, Brona knew that she needed a cut of the share, and with that, Ormil arranged a new setup with Brona. If she brought him her lifted items directly, the split would be 60-40. To this she agreed. For the next three years, Brona made it a habit to take a stroll around the city in the evening, looking for wares that were easy to access. With the wares that she brought Ormil, she took the extra money and gave it away to her family, a form of repayment for letting her stay with Runil for the past eight years. In the following year, when Brona turned twenty-four, Runil approached her, and told her that he had nothing else to teach her, she could remain in his home if she wished, so that she could have access to the University, but she decided to take a different path. Brona was filled with piss, venom, and vigor as they say, so, she set out across Cyrodil, eager to put her knowledge of illusion to work. In Bruma, she spent a month playing the part of a traveling bard, her famous act consisted of making herself disappear, only to reappear in a tree, or atop a roof. However, during that space of time, Brona was collecting items, or rather heavy coin purses from the gathered patrons in the crowd. When she reappeared, they erupted into applause, marvelling at how quickly she had appeared in a different place. In Anvil, she waited outside in the nearby woods, watching merchants travel to and from, their carts heavy with wares. Here, she would tail them from a distance, and when they made camp for the evening, she would rummage through their crates, sifted through their pockets, and make off with their goods, all before they awakened. Now, Brona was no ordinary thief, for through her travels across Cyrodil, she met many poor folk like her own family, and to balance the scales, she would pay them a visit, giving them the money she had pocketed. They were grateful, and a bit hesitant at first, for they had only exchanged a few words with Brona. And so, her travels took her from Anvil to Bravil, to Cheydinhal, Leyawiin to Chorrol, and Skingrad to Kvatch. She targeted the wealthy that felt they were above the poor, and over time, she learned other tricks of her trade. She became bolder through the years as she picked up a recurve bow, along with a set of two short swords. For a year and a half, Brona focused on bettering her skills in this area, that way, if she were to encounter sticky situations, like she had when she was travelling through the Great Forest. A group of brigands discovered her camp when she was out hunting one morning, and had rifled through her belongings. When she broke upon the clearing where she had camp, they chased her down, only for her to slip away into the many towering trees of the forest. Through time, she learned many useful skills, such as how to barter for goods, how to pick locks on chests tinkling full of coins, how to bandage her own wounds (to the best that she could), how to wield her short swords, and she became pretty good at firing her bow, not the best, but she was decent. Now 33, in recent days, Brona was on her way back from Anvil to the Imperial City to visit her family when she stopped in Kvatch for a rest. Spells Illusion Shadow Mute Torchlight Fearful Gaze Enthralling Presence Dominating Touch Chameleon Calming Touch Seductive Charm Touch of Fear Touch of Rage Void Gazer Inspiring Touch Captivate Alluring Gaze Beguiling Touch Inventory 119 Septims Two Iron Short Swords Recurve Bow Quiver of 14 Iron Arrows Two Iron Daggers Set of 12 Lockpicks Leather Gorget Leather Bracers Leather Gloves Leather Breastplate Leather Boots Red Tunic Leather Trousers Woolen Socks Black Wool Cloak Leather Rucksack (In which she carries items not readily on her person) Roll of Linen Bandages Needle and Spool of Thread Candied Pears Hard Bread Water Skin Tankard Canvas Tent Bed Roll

Oblivion, inside the Kvatch gate Tower The trip through the tower was disappointingly uneventful, at least to Orintur. A few petty Dremora and their pets, nothing like what the imposing tower of spikes and scorched stone would suggest from the outside. He had hoped for a chance to strike down more of the demons, but on the other hand he understood that the others would rather not fight every Daedra in Oblivion. A more than fair attitude, given the brutality of even the lowliest forms of Daedra. It may have been Orintur's duty to strike down the demons wherever he found them, but most people chose other paths, such as the mercenary life or priesthood, as was their right. After striking down the last foe, everyone had found themselves in a small room, with two doors and what looked like religious pews. Orintur quietly growled in response to Naenya inane questions; such inquiries into the activities of demons were for heretics. The only things anyone needed to know about Daedra were the different methods of killing them, all else was irrelevant and even dangerous. Peering through the only door that was unlocked, Orintur saw a thin bridge suspended several hundred feet above the molten ground surrounding the tower. He wasn't stupid, if he attempted to cross the bridge he'd topple straight off and splatter against the rocks. Instead, the elf elected to act as a rear guard, to defend against any Dremora that may find their way up the tower and attempt to flank behind the party. Glancing over at Naenya, the paladin was completely taken aback by her willingness to sit on the benches, and not only that, she had been smiling! Such a thing was not something to be smiling about! Did she not understand the dangers of her actions!? "Madam, I would advise against physical contact with such constructs! There's no telling what foul energies the demons here have summoned through their heretical rituals...we must be absolutely certain we do not bring anything back with us into the mortal plane!" Kvatch, refugee camp An expert shot! Down the boar went, and nearby was the sound of a young girl's excited "Yes!" Approaching her prey's limp body, Uzka lifted it over her shoulder and made her way back to the camp. The boar would provide a good bit of meat for the people residing in the tents nearby; food was getting a little scarce, and so Uzka thought it would be a good idea to brush up a bit on her hunting. As the young orc was handing her kill over to a grateful civilian, frantic yelling echoed down the hill from the gates of Kvatch. Uzka didn't need to hear the exact words, she knew there was trouble, and immediately began sprinting up the path toward the barricades. When she reached the top of the hill, Uzka was greeted by the sight of horrific lizard-like creatures swarming the barricades. Someone else was already there helping the defense, an Argonian. She didn't have much time to contemplate her next action, as her hand was forced by a Clannfear trying to make her their next meal. It had been weakened by the Argonian's atronach, but that didn't stop its ferocity. Leaping at the orc with jaws wide, the Clannfear caught an axe to its face for its trouble, the blow sending it tumbling to the ground limply. One amongst many, but it was one less trying to bite Uzka's face off. Assuming a defensive stance with her shield, Uzka waited for her next foe to reveal itself.

Character Name: Orintur Graywatch Age: 57, approximate Race: Altmer Sex: Male Birthsign: The Tower Specialisation: Combat Class: Paladin Skills: Expert: Two-Handed Blunt Journeyman: Heavy Armor, Restoration Apprentice: Destruction, Athletics, Hand to Hand Novice: Speechcraft, One-Handed Blade, One-Handed Blunt, Foraging Crafting: Novice Smithing and Alchemy Appearance: For the most part, Orintur is your typical yellow-skinned Altmer, standing at about a head higher than the average height of most other races, with pointed ears and narrow eyes, irises matching his skin. What makes him a bit different, though, is that Orintur is noticeably far more muscular than the slim and dainty everyday High Elf, thanks to his extensive training with large two-handed weapons and heavy armors. Orintur keeps his platinum hair short; he hates how bothersome long hair can be and would rather be able to wake up and not need to rearrange anything. Of course it goes without saying that, as a Paladin, Orintur sees his fair share of combat. As such, he has a good number of scars to document his adventures. The most noticeable scar is a large burn mark on his lower abdomen, given to Orintur by a flame atronach summoned by an accursed warlock that had been terrorizing nearby villages. The Altmer's armor intercepted the fireball, but that didn't stop all the damage, for his armor had reached searing levels of heat where it was hit. Unable to take off his cuirass in the middle of battle, Orintur fought for several more minutes with it on, and with every movement he was scorched further. By the time the mage was dead, not even the most powerful of Restoration magics could have healed his wound completely. Far less epic scars line Orintur's body, mainly across his arms, some acquired during his training, others given to him by bandits and other foul creatures that lucked out and bypassed his armor. Personality: Being a High Elf, one of another race would be inclined to groan at Orintur's approach, thanks to his race's less than tolerant view of anyone not their own. One would most certainly not expect, though, for the young(for a High Elf, anyway) Paladin to greet them with ecstatic glee; indeed, Orintur is as nice as nice gets...well, as long as you aren't a heretic. Following the dictations of his patron god, Stendarr, Orintur has unending love for the citizens of Tamriel, and is always happy to meet new people and offer his services to those in need. This love stops, though, for those that would bring harm to anyone under his protection, that being every person in Tamriel not openly against the Nine Divines. These villains are deemed heretics, and Orintur believes it is his mission as bestowed upon him by Mighty Stendarr to bring them to justice, be it at the end of a gavel...or his hammer. Bandits, conjurers of foul daedra, rogue wizards and necromancers, and thieves to a lesser extent all fall under Orintur's definition of "heretic", and such people would do well to keep their hobbies a secret from the ever-wary Paladin if they want to get in his good graces. The good citizens of Tamriel and all other adherents of the Nine Divines, however, can feel free to approach Orintur with all manner of problems; whatever they be, most can probably be solved with his hammer. If a hammer is not enough, then the Altmer can turn to his magics of Restoration and Destruction, or even his limited knowledge of alchemy and smithing, for he is nothing if not versatile. Orintur takes great pride in assisting those around him, and would give his life if it ever came to such a thing, so strong is his faith in the teachings of the Divines. Unfortunately however, Orintur's zealotry has made some of even the most pious of church-goers fearful of him, worried that they may unknowingly engage in some innocuous activity that nevertheless draws the paladin's ire and would put them at the end of a warhammer. Many city guards are also not quite fans of Orintur, viewing his methods as too extreme and uncompromising, and disruptive to the general peace. If he is not barred from entering a city outright, the Altmer is under the strict watch of a detachment of guards who stand at a distance, waiting for him to step out of line. Backstory: Orintur has no knowledge of his homeland, where exactly he was born, when he was born, or even who birthed him. From what he could gather from his adoptive family at the Chapel of Stendarr in Chorrol, a young woman brought him to the chapel as a baby. The woman, who was in a heavy concealing cloak and scarf, said his name was Orintur Graywatch, and to the Primate's great confusion and frustration, she would not reveal any more details, no matter how much she was pressed. The only other words the woman spoke was a request to "please raise him to be kind". In the second the Primate turned his head to look at Orintur, the woman had vanished. Letters of inquiry to other chapels and contacts turned up fruitless; the woman could not be found nor was there anyone under the name of Graywatch in Cyrodiil. With no one else able or willing to take the infant elf in, the Primate decided to make the chapel his new home, and raise him under the guidance of the Commands of the Divines with the help of the other priests. Orintur, under the wise tutelage of the Primate and priests of Stendarr, came to learn and hold dearly the teachings of the Nine Divines. Memorizing the Ten Commands and taking to heart the wisdom of revered saints, the Divines became the center of his life, and Orintur would spend many hours of the day praying and performing rites, taking short breaks to eat simple foods, help around the city, and sleep until the next morning where he would renew his routine. No doubt Orintur looked peculiar praying at the altars, being a High Elf and what all that entailed to those that didn't know anything of him, but everything just seemed to fit for the Altmer. He felt Zenithar fill his bones with the strength to live day after day, Mara fill his heart with love, and Julianos fill his mind with wisdom. The Divine that Orintur felt closest to, of little surprise, being raised in his chapel, was Stendarr. He felt compelled to help and protect the weak, and was overjoyed whenever he was able to do volunteer work to assist the needy. At twenty-five, fifteen years after beginning his general training as a devotee of the Divines, Orintur spoke to the Primate and requested he begin training to serve Stendarr. The Primate, naturally, was overjoyed, and asked what he would like to specialize in. Orintur thought long and hard on this, and eventually came to a conclusion: he would be a paladin of Stendarr. It just sounded right to him, marching across Cyrodiil, striking down evildoers and offering aid to those whose paths he crossed; it felt like something was calling him to take on the mantle of Paladin. To this day, Orintur attributes his choice to the guiding hand of Stendarr, who believed the Altmer would be best suited for that path above all others. Orintur's training officially began with the arrival of a full-fledged paladin, whom the Primate called to the Chapel to teach the High Elf every other month; Orintur's lessons would alternate between martial and spiritual training, with the Primate instructing him in all the rites of Stendarr. Romana Marius was a behemoth of a woman, almost as tall as Orintur himself and with plenty of muscle to match. Her red hair was short and messy, with a face as plain as a foundation stone and a stare that could shatter one; Romana certainly had no time set aside for looking nice. With how mean she could look on the outside, however, Romana was surprisingly amicable. You had to listen for her smile, not look for it, as one of the priests familiar with her once said. She was glad that Orintur chose the path of the paladin, as according to her their numbers were running quite low, and made Orintur aware of their kind's high mortality rate. She was greatly pleased to hear her student's confidence and determination, and began his first lessons. They spent several weeks trying to find the aspiring warrior a weapon of choice, and went through many with little success. Sword and shield, spears, axes, none quite clicked with Orintur...until he came to the mighty warhammer. He was practically in love with the raw power of such a weapon, and asked to be trained in its use. The first two years with Romana was specifically spent learning how to wear heavy armor and properly use a warhammer, along with a bit of hand-to-hand training. Proper footing, getting down the right amount of momentum, using distance to one's advantage, all the basics. When she believed Orintur could use the weapon confidently, Romana began engaging in full-on spars with her student. While obviously not on equal footing with his mentor, Orintur could still land his fair share of strikes. One day, Romana hit Orintur with an extremely heavy strike, bruising him terribly. What he initially believed was an accident was actually Romana transitioning into her next lessons: the art of Restoration, and how to heal oneself and others. She began by teaching Orintur a basic healing spell to ease his bruising, which he took it upon himself to learn quickly, as the wound panged quite unpleasantly...and then she made him do it again after the next spar when she fractured his index finger. Romana made it clear that she did not injure him for her own amusement, but rather to encourage him to learn how to heal himself faster and give him more experience with Restoration magics. Still, Orintur didn't quite appreciate the beatings even with that assurance, but the more potent spells she taught him after a few months softened the literal blows a bit. The next four years were a repeat of that routine of sparring and then healing, and going out to help those brought into the safety of the city after being attacked by bandits, wolves, and whatever else lurked the roads and forests. Romana had Orintur simply watch at first of course, no telling what an inexperienced student would get wrong, but eventually he was allowed to operate on his first patient. Using the most simple spell available, the Altmer successfully closed the gashes of an unfortunate victim of a mugging. He liked those lessons much more. Two more years were spent learning the art of Destruction; Romana admitted that while, yes, Destruction was quite an unsavory school, a paladin needs several methods of attacking, as one may not be able to get close enough to bash away with steel. Another two years passed, all the time with Romana spent perfecting his technique after having learned all of the basics of combat and magic. When the time had come for Orintur's trial of initiation, he could manuever himself smoothly even in heavy iron, could close and mend the wounds of himself and others in under twenty seconds, and his prowess with warhammers was something to be feared. Romana, the Primate, and all others who had witnessed his training were confident in his ability...but were the Divines? Such was the purpose of his trial, to determine his worthiness in the eyes of Stendarr. Orintur's mission: Head to a nearby cave, once the lair of some goblins, and destroy the warlock hiding away inside. The warlock had been attacking travellers on the road to Chorrol frequently, and was the cause of all the recent burn victims carried into the city. He was to bring back their staff as proof of his success. The moment Orintur stepped into the vile lair of the mage, the scent of death hit him in the face with nauseating force. In the second chamber was the cause: Six glassy-eyed corpses, reanimated by the darkest of magicks. They were the unfortunate travellers that did not make it the rest of the way to Chorrol, their flesh singed with intense magical flames. To profane the dead in such a way was heresy in the eyes of Arkay, and so Orintur dispatched them swiftly. The slow, shambling zombies were no match for Orintur and his warhammer, and the Altmer had little issue releasing them from their servitude. Deeper in the cave, however, was a sight truly horrible: piled up in a corner was a mountain of corpses, most much, much older than the poor souls in the previous chamber. Next to them were bloody carts; the blasphemer had been practicing necromancy far before moving near Chorrol. Filled with righteous fury, Orintur was going to make sure the bastard would not be able to relocate this time. At the very end of the cave was a large open room with torches, and sconces filled with bones. In the middle was a stone altar with a multitude of body parts arranged in a vaguely humanoid shape...with the sickening mage ogling at their handiwork with childish wonderment. The clanking of armor alerted the aging warlock, but she was none too impressed with her adversary, wondering aloud if the following of Stendarr was so weak that they had to send a boy after her. Summoning forth a fire atronach, the warlock looked on amusedly as her minion went to work on Orintur. The atronach was swifter than he anticipated, and he missed his first swing. Now at a safe distance, the daedroth flung a ball of fire at Orintur, hitting the middle of his cuirass. Though not hit directly, the heated part of his armor would occasionally brush against his body, searing him painfully whenever he turned. Deciding his foe was too good at gaining distance, the Altmer switched to blasting the atronach with orbs of ice. Only when the summon was in a weakened state did Orintur charge forth and let his hammer crash down on his foe's skull. Turning away from the fizzling remains of the flaming abomination, the warlock and the paladin-to-be locked eyes, both glaring at the other. Lifting up her staff, the warlock let loose a fireball, crashing behind Orintur as he jumped to the side to avoid another unfortunate burn wound; the one he had already was getting on his nerves as it was. Retaliating with a lightning bolt, the furious High Elf advanced quickly, his attack sending the warlock's next fireball askew, far away from her charging foe. Before they were able to send out another spell, Orintur knocked the mage to the ground with a hard shoulder-bash, who followed up with a quick stomp to their arm, breaking it and forcing them to let go of their staff. The blasphemer's predictable last-ditch promises of unlimited power went unheard, and were ultimately silenced by Orintur's warhammer cracking them across the skull, snapping her neck at a disgusting angle. After treating his burn as best as he could, Orintur grabbed the accursed staff and prayed to Arkay and Stendarr, praying that the souls of the dead so disrespectfully mutilated in the cave would be tended to, and that the warlock would hopefully be granted pardon by Stendarr the Merciful. It was dark by the time Orintur returned to the chapel, and he was greeted by the relieved cheering of its inhabitants. Handing the staff to the Primate, it was announced that Orintur would be made a paladin of Stendarr on the morn. Never before had rest felt so deserved to the anxious Altmer. After waking and praying at the altars, Orintur met the Primate at the center of the chapel. He was surpised at how many were in attendance: there was Romana and the other priests of the chapel, which wasn't too shocking, but behind them in the pews were several citizens of Chorrol and even a few guards. Kneeling low, the Primate proudly began the induction speech, placing upon Orintur the blessings of Stendarr and the other Divines, charging him with the faithful service of the good people of Tamriel, to defend and protect the weak and innocent, and to forever hold the ideals of generosity and kindness to others in his heart. Accepting these gifts and responsibilities, Orintur rose and took in his hands the steel warhammer and donned the steel armor forged by Chorrol's blacksmith, ordered by Romana and the priests specially for the Altmer's coronation. After the ceremony, Romana told Orintur that the reason for the large amount of attendees was that a paladin of Stendarr hadn't been inducted in many years, and it was an exciting event for the townsfolk. He vowed to not disappoint the people of Chorrol, or of anywhere else in Tamriel. To that end, he geared up, said his great thanks to the kind priests that raised him, to and the Primate Romana for their teachings, and set out across Cyrodiil. The following years weren't exactly full of epic adventures and quests to destroy evil artifacts. In fact, Orintur's new life as a paladin was fairly mundane, and that suited him just fine. Helping people with problems, big or small, filled Orintur with purpose, and his spirits were raised with every word of thanks and gratitude. He took very little in terms of rewards, accepting little more than pieces of fruit or refills for his waterskin. As a result of this, and his eventual reputation as a reliable but incredibly extreme man of the faith barring him entry from most cities by the guards, Orintur has had to learn how to find his own food in the form of berries and edible plants along with the uncommon pieces of meat from the game he is able to reliably hunt, and has also taken it upon himself to learn the basics of using small swords and handaxes, just in case he ever finds himself without his hammer or enough magicka for spells. The intricacies of smithing and alchemy are far beyond the Altmer, but he knows enough to keep his armor and weapons in decent shape, and can brew basic potions for healing, fatigue, and magicka recovery. The news of the Emperor's death saddened Orintur greatly, and upon hearing of the event he gave himself to the Kvatch arena games, hoping to honor the late Uriel Septim with victory in combat. He planned to later pray and mourn in the Chapel of Akatosh, and unbeknownst to him them, pray and mourn he would, but not just for the dead Emperor, but for all people of Tamriel. Then the time for prayer would end, and thus would begin the purging of heretics, blashphemers, and daedric abominations. The Princes themselves shall fear the name Orintur Graywatch! Spells: Restoration Greater Convalescence(J), Heal Major Wounds(A), Convalescence(A), Heal Minor Wounds(N) Destruction Shock(A), Corrode Armor(A), Snowball(N) Inventory: Storage 1 x Large Leather Backpack 1 x Leather harness w/ three pouches Alchemy Gear 1 x Mortar/Pestle 3 x Empty vials Sufficient ingredients to make two potions of light healing, and one potion of light magicka recovery 1 x Healing/Stamina/Magicka potions Tools/Arms and Armor/Clothing 1 x Green cotton shirt/black trousers/leather boots 1 x Set of fluted steel plate armor with gauntlets, greaves, and a bucket helmet w/ raisable face plate 1 x Steel warhammer 1 x Iron dagger, fastened to harness across cuirass 1 x Armourer's hammer and whetstone 1 x Small handaxe for chopping up bits of wood for fires, fastened to his backpack Food and Provisions 1 x Medium sized waterskin 2 x Cuts of cooked venison 1 x Red Apple 3 x Half-loafs of bread 1 x Small leather tent and bedroll

Bardeck wasn't content with sitting here while they waited to open the door, though he also did not know if he should follow. The barbaric warrior peered down the stairway, and though the heat was intense and the lava flow was audible, there still seemed to be no more pursuit. He breathed through his nose, and closed his eyes. He needed to make a decision and stick with it. But what would it be? "Divines balls, fine," he muttered. Bardeck turned and whistled. Gideon the hound loped over to him, and panted happily. If Naenya was watching, she'd see Bardeck whispering to his dog while the hound made small 'reor' noises in reply, pawing at him. Bardeck pointed to Naenya, then winked to Gideon and pointed at her again. Gideon barked in agreement, and then bounded toward Naenya to stand watch over her. "I'm going over the bridge," Bardeck announced, shield and axe ready in his hands. By the look in his eyes, there was no talking him out of it. He spoke with the surety of if he was announcing water is wet. "But Gideon stays here to provide a guard. I told him to follow the pack leader," he said, winking at Naenya. "No Daedric Prince in Oblivion could keep me from coming back for my dog. We'll stay alive," Bardeck said, and then stepped out onto the blasted bridge. Heat suddenly enveloped him, ashes flying into his face as he stuck his shield and axe out to balance himself. He wasn't particularly agile or balanced, at least compared to someone like Brona. But he walked with a confidence that kept himself from being too unnerved as he walked, which in turn, helped his balance. He nearly tumbled onto Brona though when he made it off the bridge. He caught himself, his broad chest almost brushing her back. "Sorry," he said to her. No warrior would ever be embarrassed. The flush on his cheeks was simply the heat. He nodded to the three of them, saluting with his axe. "Let's kick ass."

Name: Bardek Gildenhart Age: 25 Race: Nord Sex: Male Birthsign: The Steed Specialisation: Combat Class: Warrior Skills: Expert: Blunt (Two Handed) Journeyman: Block Journeyman: Smithing Apprentice: Hunting Apprentice: Heavy Armor Apprentice: Blunt (One Handed) Novice: Heavy Armor Novice: Athletics Novice: Acrobatics Novice: Two Handed (Staves, Polearms) Appearance: If Bardeck could be described in one word, it would be 'rugged.' His black hair is wavy and barely falls short of reaching his broad shoulders. This coupled with his 5'oclock shadow give him an unkempt visage. The young man's body is muscled yet lean, his skin having bronzed from the constant work outdoors (and thanks to his father's blood). He prefers wearing sturdy leather trousers, loose fitting but snug at the waist, tied by a plain brown sash belt. When in combat or preparing, he wears iron armor over a linen tunic. Outside of combat, he simply wears the tunic, usually opened in the center. If he's alone he'll go shirtless, simply enjoying the breeze and the heat of the day. His height is fairly average for an Imperial, not short by any means but not particularly tall. His callused and scarred hands are rough but firm to the touch (much like the rest of him). His caramel eyes are the softest part of him, full of life and passion, fiery wonder, and sometimes innocent curiosity. Personality: Bradeck can be described as a rough and ready warrior. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his loyalty to those he deems worthy. He's not particularly book smart, and can miss a few finer details of a more subtle plan when he's ready to fight in combat. Despite that, he's intuitive and introspective, with a quick mind and a dry wit. He has a quiet, a down to earth wisdom that often views the world in a pragmatic, useful manner. He's quite a passionate and creative individual when opened up to someone. Due to his childhood being spent with male friends, and the only females he spent much time with were family members or female Orcs that would sooner hit him than hit on him, he's quite confused when it comes to romance. It's a coin toss on whether he gets very defensive and stand offish, or very stuttering and shy. It's just not his element. He respects warriors and those who pull their own weight or who show great skill. He's annoyed at laziness and dishonesty. He doesn't pick fights easily however, and only do it when he truly thinks its called for, and that's after one too many times of blundering. Not after strike one. Though he might be outspoken and blunt at his disapproval. Backstory: Bardeck was born in Anvil, to an Imperial ex-soldier father and a Nordic mother. They resided there for 7 years. Bardeck enjoyed swimming and exploring the surrounding woods, fascinated by the untold wilderness. At age 8, his mother's father passed away, and they moved to Skyrim in Markarth where his grandmother still resided to help her live and keep her company. His parents began a moderately successful trading business. Bradeck wasn't quite used to the new surroundings, and was bullied by the Nordic children other than a select few whom he'd later name as his best friends. On one occasion, the other children began to rough him up near the back end of Markarth, when the Orcish smith knocked them back and bared his great fangs, causing them to flee. He gave some gruff advice to Bradeck, telling him not to let other kids push him around. He went back to his smithy. Bradeck began to visit the smith every now and then, watching him at his work. Eventually they exchanged names. Rogath was the Orc's name, and he took a liking to Bradeck's inquisitive nature, allowing him to learn a few tricks of the trade while they spent time together through offhand advice. During this time, Bradeck would learn a few pointers of combat from his father after helping unload the carts coming to the city. Bradeck was there when his grandmother passed away, holding his mother and crying with her when he was 14 years old. The death of his grandmother sparked questions on who he was in his mind. He felt a sense of pride to both his stoic northern blood and southern mercantile roots, but felt a kinship to Rogath and his rough nature. One day, Rogath announced he was traveling back to his homeland, and Bradeck begged him to let him go with him. At first the Orsimer refused, but then lamented if Bradeck had the strength to go and fetch a bear pelt out in the wild. The boy felt elated, for he knew how to hunt and had the knowledge of a few bear caves, though he knew it would not be an easy quarry. He set off one morning, and found one of the bear frequented caverns. He entered, but instead found the bear dead already. He exploded further, but was discovered by a hungry vampire that had decided to hide here in order to terrorize the travelers of Markarth with relative ease. Bradeck, armed with a battlaxe, fought for his life. He had wounded the Vampire's hip when the beast had underestimated him, but was quickly overwhelmed and thrown down the cavern. The Vampire leaped at him, intending to kill him. He used the spike on the end of his Battleaxe to impale the flying creature, bowling him over and then decapitating the bloodsucker. Rogath was then presented with both a Bear pelt and Vampire Ash. He had become Blood-Kin. They traveled to Orsinium and lived in one of the outer lying clans. He grew in both body and spirit, learning advanced combat and Smithing techniques. His fit frame turned muscular, and his mind grew sharper with his exposure to various cultures. The Nordic city of Markarth had helped him deal somewhat with the rough living of Orisinium, truth be told. He was given a warhound Puppy named Gideon on his 21st birthday. Age 21, he left and decided to become a mercenary and journeyman smith, heading through Hammerfell and working there in various jobs for a year before making it to Cyrodiil, living there ever since. He was recently hired to Kvatch as a caravan guard. A relatively simple job he had thought... Spells: Inventory: Cutie Patoot WarDog Steel Hand Axe Iron Armor Iron Shield 2 x Healing Potion 3 x Bear Pelts 3 x Wolf Pelts 2 pounds of Venison 1 Water Jug Clothing

Giving Bardeck a bright, grateful smile as he and the others left, Naenya turned to Gideon who sat beside her. What with her own frame being so tiny (Being a Bosmeri will do that you) the dog was nearly as big as herself while sat down. "You're very tall." She said in a conversational tone to him, almost as though she were speaking to a person. Patting the top of his head lightly with a grin, Naenya's gaze now turned to the Altmer paladin, chuckling lightly at his outburst. "Oh, it's alright! In all my years of studying, I've never once come across a Bench-Daedra. Nor one who could transform into a bench - but I'm sure if one could, and was clever enough to keep us the disguise, then they'd transform themselves into a more useful inanimate object. Like a gargoyle, with lots of sharp teeth and claws! Or... a fake chest, that bites your hand off when you reach inside it." Throughout these speculations, her tone didn't particularly change in terms of pleasantness. In her opinion, Naenya couldn't see a Daedra successfully pulling a stunt like what she had just described unless they were rather powerful in illusion magic. Unless it was Sheogorath's realm; in which case, the likelihood of such a mad and fruitless effort as transforming into a bench to attack people would make more sense. She was just about to explain to Orintur why bringing back things from this plane to their own wasn't necessarily a bad thing (She intended on doing so regardless of opinions anyway; this was too good of a situation to avoid some kind of study!), a low rumble from below stopped her before she could even start. Standing up slowly, her pointed ears twitched slightly as she strained her hearing. What was it? A small earthquake? Natural disasters were Dagon's thing, and with everything else exploding in this realm, it wouldn't be too surprising. Going towards the door that had led into the chamber they now stood in, Naenya peeked outside, Bardeck trotting behind her. Nothing... and yet, her ears picked up something. Something none too desirable in their current situation. "I suggest you ready that hammer of yours, sir knight." Backing away from the door and twirling her staff in hand, Naenya still had that now familiar look of eagerness upon her face - but with a notion of fire now settled in her eyes. While she never looked for a fight, it didn't mean she wasn't to enjoy them - one has to practice their spellcasting in some way, after all. "We have company!" As the others in the room readied their weapons and backed away from the door, the guttural voices of the Daedra steadily approached. They didn't sound too happy about the death of their comrades below and outside - Naenya was stunned that it took them this long to send reinforcements. As the swarm of enraged Daedra entered the room, she immediately turned her staff to one of the Mages. Keeping some of the ranged attackers occupied could probably make things easier for her comrades... particularly those who liked to get up close and personal with their foes. Unfortunately, her plan worked a little too well. As Naenya directed a frost bolt towards her target, she received a lightning bolt back in kind. "How shocking." She thought as she fell to the floor.

Character Name: Nikolaus “Niko” Valerious Age: 37 Race: Nord Sex: Male Birthsign: The Lover Specialisation: Combat/Magic Class: Paragon Skills: Expert: One-Handed Blade (Dual-Wielding) Journeyman: Speechcraft, Destruction Apprentice: Athletics, Restoration, Heavy Armour Novice: Two-Handed Blade, Acrobatics, Illusion, Medicine (Non-Alchemical/Magical (Craft)), Hunting (Craft), Foraging (Craft) Appearance: Looking every part the Nord, Niko stands at a towering height of 6’7; matched with broad shoulders and the muscled build of someone who works his swords every day, he can seem somewhat daunting at times. However, when one focuses on his face, softness shines through. Gentle blonde brows above stormy grey-blue eyes; a sharp jawline softened by a smattering of badly trimmed blond stubble; high cheekbones crinkled with laughter lines, and dimples that brighten cheeks once round with wellness, but now have a somewhat haggard and hungry look about them. On a usual day out in the field, Niko can usually be seen wearing his armour; shaggy, dark-blonde hair pulled back haphazardly by messy braids, and shoulder’s stiff with the weight he is carrying. However, when more relaxed and among friends, his hair hangs loose, brushing against his eyes and shoulders in a messy but appealing manner – armour is replaced with comforting and loose clothing, shirt sleeves usually pushed up to the elbow and revealing a plethora of scars up and down his forearms. The scars carry on under his clothing; some fresher and deeper than others, but you’ll need to either get him drunk or be close to him to get the stories behind the scarring dotted over his skin – some hurt more than others, and not in a physical way. Personality: While he doesn’t smile as much as he used to, Niko remains still an amicable sort – but if one looks close enough, you can see the tension in his smile; the stretched out laughs that sound just a touch too hollow to be considered genuine or warm. His eyes have retained that caring spark of friendliness, but it dulls whenever nobody is looking his way. His kindness isn’t faked or forced… it’s just harder to be the way he was before. It’s rare for his grief or anger to come through, but when faced with something particularly cruel, or anything involved in raising the dead, anything remotely nice about him falls away, and his eyes become as hard as ice. Killing for him then isn’t just a job to be done; it becomes frenzied, and very personal. However, regardless of his own internal turmoils, he’ll remain good to those around him. While respect is earned, Niko makes a point of being polite to most, no matter how brash they appear to be. Being more than aware of how death and killing can get to a man, he’ll listen to people’s worries and concerns in the hopes he can do something to help them… when sometimes, a listening friend is all many need. When it comes to matter away from friends and family, Niko still remains polite; even in battle, while others may make puns, threats or quips while slicing down their enemy, Niko will do it as quickly and as painlessly as possible – no intimidation, no dark humour. It’s not his style. Neither is bragging of past battles fought, though one would be able to hear a good tale from him if coaxed enough – it comes from having a daughter, for him. Niko quite firmly believes that Mia should be kept safe from violence, bad language, and all of the other things that his race and Skyrim are famous for; a foolish endeavour, considering his girl is getting street-smart enough to find out about all of these things herself; but he remains very protective over her, not wanting to lose her as he lost his wife. This protectiveness passes on to his friends and family, particularly those he gets close to. Backstory: While our story begins in Kvatch, as does the life of Nikolaus. Born to an Imperial father and Nord mother, the pair had met, fell in love, and married in a short span of time – moving from the mother’s native Skyrim to Kvatch for a both safer and warmer climate to raise their son in. And it was a good childhood for Niko; there was never danger within the city walls, and with his mother and father’s decent wages from the Fighters and Mages Guild respectively, never had an empty stomach or cold night. Niko’s father – Percius – had his own parents, now retired, living in Kvatch too – so whenever he and his wife – Ulva – needed to do a job for money, they could quite simply live Niko with his grandparents and do what needed to be done. As a baby, Niko barely noticed his parent’s absence unless they were gone for a unusually long time; but as a child, he started growing curious as to what reason for and where his parents were going. Curiosity soon grew into indignation, and the usually mild-mannered child began to constantly question exactly why he had to stay at home, and why his parents had to leave all the time. Well… he was still mild-mannered in his questioning; politeness always came first, especially when talking to his elders. But it was clear to his parents that their little boy was growing up rather quickly, and would need to start learning something to keep him happy – and away from their own adventures. To counter this, Percius’ father – a retired guard of Kvatch - started teaching Niko how to use swords – of course starting with a wooden sword and a straw dummy at the young age of 8, but still, it worked well enough. With his grandmother teaching him his letters and numbers, Niko constantly itched for his training sessions every evening. Over time, Ulva began to spend more and more days at home, having growing tired from all of the contracts taken from the Fighter’s Guild. When Percius’ father grew too old to continue training Niko (now 13) Ulva took over, helping him branch out into proper training; wearing armour that weighed his light teenage frame down; real swords instead of wooden ones – she even persuaded Percius to begin training Niko in certain schools of magic, just so it would come in handy in the future. Niko picked up the magic just as well as his blades, barring a few incidents with rogue fireballs. He was fine once his eyebrows grew back, honestly. When Niko reached the age of 16, he had a firm grasp in the basics of restoration, destruction, and the wielding of blades. His mother wanted him to join the fighter’s guild, and his father wanted him to join the mage’s guild. Thinking he wanted the best of both worlds, he started working as a battlemage for the arcane university; training under a more experienced guard who worked there to get him up to the right standard for such a prestigious college. It was a solid job, and kept both of his parents happy – Niko continued to have a steady income, a warm bed, and full stomach. He was just going to be living with longer hours and bruised skin from his rigorous training regime – the safety of the mages and the University was no small matter, what with the countless troves of knowledge and precious items hidden within those walls. Niko had only been inside a few times, but he had caught glimpses of endless libraries, impossibly large, echoing chambers (He and a few colleagues enjoyed a few shouting matches in there before being kicked out by their Guard-Captain; after several hours of sprinting the battlements in full armour in the pouring rain, they decided not to do it again), and of course, the mages themselves. Only 2 really stood out to him; one was a slimy looking fellow. Niko was never one to judge people before meeting them, but as it happened, he had had the misfortune of meeting and talking to Conjurer Astian Onius – but Niko also had the fortune of meeting Astian’s cousin, Elisabeth. And to him, she was the greatest treasure in the University. At the age of 25 – now an established guard of his own right, having graduated his training top of the class (despite the hollering matches in the halls) – Niko finally plucked up the courage to talk to Elisabeth in a more than friendly manner, asking her to join him for drinks that night – no friends of his, and no weasel-like cousins of hers to accompany them. One night of drinks turned into another night, and then another; then it was candlelit meals, walks along the shores of lake Rumare, picnics in the forest. For anyone watching the pair, it would be quite obvious that the two were in love – and indeed, Astian was watching them. He was not happy. After 3 years of courting, Niko and Elisabeth were wed, and a year after that, she fell pregnant with what would be their first and only child. Named Amelia for Elisabeth’s mother who had passed that spring, their life seemed idyllic. But as time passed, things began to grow dark. Not in their relationship, exactly; they were still a happy couple, raising their daughter in Imperial City and continuing with their jobs – and it was their jobs that began causing issues. What with Niko just being a guard, he and his fellows didn’t really involve themselves in the fight for power brewing between the Mages – not just in the University, but across Cyrodiil. Favours were split, and Elisabeth herself was not wanting Hannibal Traven as Arch-Mage; She considered him too close-minded, especially when it came to matters such as necromancy; although having never done any spells in that area, she was doing research into possible life after death – a cure that could bring someone back if they were saved seconds after dying. An innocent enough area of study, and certainly with a noble enough gesture behind it. But once Arch-Mage Traven won the fight for power, she became cowed; fearful of what could happen to her and her work after the banning of necromancy by the Arch-Mage, she begged Niko for them both to leave Imperial City and the Mages Guild – they had more than enough experience between them both to get jobs elsewhere. Although slightly concerned at her reasons behind it – her cousin Astian had been visiting their home more than usual the weeks previous, having hushed and irritated conversations with Elisabeth before the harassed woman asked him to leave – Niko conceded, and along with their 6 year old daughter, left for his parent’s home in Kvatch; having died in the winter, they’d left the home to Niko and his family. The next two years that passed were easily the worst in Niko’s life. While Kvatch was a nice change at first; his daughter enjoying the smaller and more open city as opposed to Imperial City’s near stifling buildings and towering walls – he too was welcomed back with open arms, as many who still lived there knew his family. Getting a job as a guard was no trouble, what with his long service record at the Arcane University. He knew he’d probably get more money in the Fighter’s Guild or even a sellsword, but being a guard was safer, more secure, and more honest; that was just the kind of man he was. His wife, however, was growing more and more secretive. Elisabeth had become more withdrawn, even after moving away from the Mages Guild; “hunting trips” were going on far too long for her to come home with nothing, and she would constantly change the subject whenever her studies came up in conversation. As Astian’s trips became more frequent, and news of strange lights coming from caves not far from Kvatch began circulating through the city, Niko’s worries grew into suspicions. It was time to find out what his wife and her troublesome cousin were up to. As he followed Elisabeth from a distance – her leaving Kvatch a few hours previous for more “hunting” – Niko told himself that he was worrying over nothing. She was probably just continuing her research, and was worried about the Guild swooping in to stop her; but it wasn’t necromancy. Just research. Whether his wife was dabbling in the magic of raising the dead, Niko never knew – but whatever she had attempted to do in those dimly lit caves was too dangerous – as he watched on from the shadows, he saw something go wrong. He was no expert in the type of magic Elisabeth and Astian were attempting, so Niko couldn’t understand why after a sudden flash of light, Elisabeth hit the ground and no longer moved; he couldn’t understand why Astian looked perfectly unconcerned by this, and simply began performing another spell. But when the magic hit her body, and she slowly rose to her feet, he did understand. And no matter what had happened, no matter what she may had done; he was not going to let his wife’s body become nothing more than a puppet. Wiping his eyes that had become blurred with tears, Niko slowly unsheathed his swords and stormed towards Astian. When finally returning to Kvatch, it had been difficult to coax the full story from the grieving Niko; heavily injured and clutching Elisabeth’s – now still – body in his arms, he had collapsed at the gate, being brought into the chapel for healing. Although Astian had put up quite the fight, Niko had barely felt any pain at each landed blow from the disgraced mage; it was killing his wife’s resurrected body that had been the most difficult part for him. While the healer Oleta was able to mend his several cuts and burns, aided by Brother Martin, it was harder to ease the near-broken man’s mind. After the story was finally pulled from Niko, and the caves investigated, the city guards discovered that Astian had indeed been practicing Necromancy. Out of sheer respect to Niko, their comrade, they made sure to state there was nothing to incriminate Elisabeth in the forbidden act. There was no evidence in fact, but many people -particularly at the guild – would have been happy to connect the dots of her being at the caves so often. Not so long after the tragedy, Niko had fully recovered; he had taken to spending much of his time at the Chapel, hoping to find solace in the Gods. But nothing seemed to bring him peace; the daily chats with the Priests brought him some comfort, but Kvatch no longer seemed like home anymore. Mia seemed to have taken the news of her mother better than he, but then, she hadn’t seen or done what he had been forced to do – all the same, she complied when Niko suggested leaving Kvatch. He left his job with the guard, sold their home, and the lonely father and daughter left the gates of their hometown. And for nearly 2 years, they wandered throughout Cyrodiil. Never staying in one place for too long, Niko took whatever jobs that came to him as long as they paid enough, and weren’t too time-wasting or life-threatening. He was more desperate than before, but he wouldn’t risk his life while Mia was so young; she had no-one left to look after her. Of course, things became far more dangerous when he finally came back to Kvatch. A chance encounter; retrieving some rare book from the local bookstore for an old bedbound fellow in Bravil; at first, Niko was going to pass it up, not quite ready to return to Kvatch even after 2 years. But the man was offering quite a bit of money, and Mia’s birthday was approaching – it couldn’t hurt, could it? That was what he thought until the Oblivion Gate opened. It had been easy enough to gather a terrified Mia into his arms and pelt towards the chapel, but it was getting out that would be the hardest part. Spells: Destruction: Blazing Spear, Corrode Weapon, Dire Wound, Drain Skill: Destruction, Fire Ball, Frost Bolt, Great Magicka Drain, Hail Storm, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Grasp, Searing Grasp, Shocking Burst, Weakness to Magicka, Winter’s Grasp, Withering Touch Restoration: Convalescence, Cure Paralysis, Cure Poison, Fortify Health, Fortify Speed, Fortify Strength, Great Fortity Fatigue, Heal Major Wounds Illusion: Serenity, Soothing Touch, Starlight Inventory: 1x Off-white tunic, to wear under armour 2x Black Leather pants, one for casual wear, one to wear under greaves 1x Set of steel greaves 1x Set of steel pauldrons 1x Steel chestplate 1x Set of steel bracers over 1x Pair of leather gloves 2x Steel longswords 1x Steel Greatsword 1x Iron dagger 1x Dark shirt 1x Black overcoat 1x Pair of leather boots 1x Black hood 1x Spare child’s dress, red 1x Spare pair of child’s shoes Mia’s teddy bear 1x Plain gold wedding ring 1x Waterskin 1x Bottle of rum 1x Loaf of bread 2x Wedges of cheese Several slices of smoked salmon, wrapped in cheesecloth Several slices of cooked beef, wrapped in cheesecloth 3x Sweetened biscuits, slightly stale 1x Skin of milk 2x Bedrolls 1x Pillow 1x Large fur blanket 1x Tent 1x Cooking pot & Spit 1x Horse, carrying majority of the camping equipment 1x Knapsack, to carry the remainder of his things 374 Septims Mia has a balanced look of her parents; she has her mother’s dark, chocolate-brown eyes, and face and body, but the rest of her belongs to her father. Being quite tall and mature for her age, Mia also has his dark-blonde hair, hers with more of a wave to it than Niko’s; she keeps it at shoulder-length, tied up most of the time when out on the road with her dad. She also shares his sweet, dimpled smile, though hers seems far more genuine most of the time. While certainly taking after her Imperial mother in her looks, Mia has the heart of a Nord. With an inquisitive sense of adventure constantly on her mind, the curious 8-year-old (She’s nearly 9, actually – don’t forget it!) has a penchant for wandering away from her father when visiting cities; but only in cities. She did it once in a tiny little village without walls and she’d never seen him look so upset when he found her 3 hours later. She understands his protectiveness, but taking a rather wise standpoint for such a young age, thinks her Father needs to move on from what happened. She knows this isn’t the way her Mama wanted them both to live, after all. Perhaps due to her father treating her like some fragile thing, Mia often takes on a brusque and boisterous way of life. Local kid calling her names? He’s getting a broken nose. A pair of dubious looking fellows in the inn staring at her father’s coinpurse? Glare at them until they notice and hurriedly leave. Portal to hell opening up in the city? Her Papa will sort them out, he’s the bravest, strongest man in the whole wide world. She’s going to help of course – if only Papa would give her a sword. Ooh, or maybe an axe.

As the daedra poured into the room, snarling and scraping as they went, Adamiir had what he believed to be a stroke of genius. It really wasn’t every day that such good fortune was made so readily available. Indeed, to be quite accurate, this kind of fortune was likely centuries old, if ever it existed at all. Looking at nobody in particular, a wide smile began to slowly creep its way onto Adamiir’s face. Quite an unsightly thing indeed. Fixing his gaze on the largest churl in the room, a hulking, cruel looking behemoth, Adamiir took a single step forward. The churl took a step back. The manic smile only widened as the breton took another step forward, before strolling towards the dremora at a leisurely pace. The churl found itself momentarily glued to place, as combat erupted around it. When the skinny monster showed no signs of stopping its advance, the churl dropped its weapon in fright and fled out of the room, into the hallway it arrived from. “My companions,” Adamiir called out as he began to sprint after the churl. “I will return-” And then no longer could the group hear him, his voice growing fainter as he sped away from the melee. Veeza spared no glance for the eccentric breton, though part of him was starting to regret having saved the spellcaster. Mad or cowardly, his absence in the current fight was all the same. Veeza shook his head, snorting, choosing instead to turn his attention to the problems he could still do something about. Namely, the scamp that had gotten between him and the demonic mage he’d been initially targeting. Already he was feeling the costs of this exchange, the scamps claws unfortunately proficient at finding the little gaps between the pieces of his armor. Snorting again, forked tongue slipping from his mouth to lick the blood from a split on his lip, Veeza and the scamp clashed together once more. Seizing the scamp’s neck with both hands, Veeza lifted the creature off the ground, and began to squeeze. A hellish shriek ripped from the scamp’s throat as it began to thrash about, to no significant effect. Then, there was a loud crack, and Veeza dropped the corpse to the ground, breathing heavily. Adamiir looked down at the naked dremora before him thoughtfully. Getting the big red corpse out of its armor had been a frustratingly arduous process, but at last it was done. Sparing a glance for the steel knife that had found itself embedded in the back of the churl’s neck at the start of this process, the shiny thing still coated in a thick, blackish red bile, Adamiir knelt down close to the corpse. Positioning the knife over the dremora’s heart, he began to work, humming softly.

Character Name: Adamiir Thiich Age: 28 Race: Breton Sex: Male Birthsign: The Tower Specialisation: Magic/Stealth Class: Treasure Seeker Skills: Expert- Illusion Journeyman- Destruction, Acrobatics, Trap-setting (Craft), Translation (Ayleid, Craft) Apprentice- Athletics, Restoration, Sneak Novice- Mercantile, Security, Alteration, Foraging Appearance: Tall and gangly, an inch or two below the height of the average Altmer when standing straight, with sharp bony features and his shoulders bent forward in a slight stoop, Adamiir’s form carries with it an aura of wrongness, as though he was put together by an amateur craftsman with pieces that never quite matched. His face is pale and clean shaven, his nose long and thin, pointed downwards, vaguely resembling the beak of a hawk. His mouth is a crooked slash of a thing, resting uncomfortably on his face. Set above high cheekbones and hollow cheeks are Adamiir’s eyes, dark and nervous, always jittering around, changing their focus every few seconds. Atop his head lies a thick mop of shoulder length blonde hair, dark gold, like that of a lion’s mane. Unusually spry, despite his unwieldy appearance, Adamiir has built a small amount of muscle from a lifetime climbing trees in the Great Forest and pushing through its brush. Without concern for armor, he dons nothing more than a pair of leather shoes, sturdy but simple, brown cloth pants, for ease of movement without sacrificing durability, and a navy blue tunic, a belt of dark leather around the waist. The only other item of noticeable interest would be a plan silver amulet, given to Adamiir by his master. Personality: To call Adamiir eccentric would be both accurate and simultaneously a vast oversimplification. When it comes to the fine art of conversation, he is woefully awkward and unskilled, usually coming off of as somewhat touched in the head to the more judgemental folk populating Nirn. Despite these limitations, Adamiir prides himself as a teacher, always ready to educate present company with any information he has relevant to the conversation… whether his input was requested or not. As stilted as it may be, Adamiir does try his best to extend goodwill to those deserving of it; he is often caught between the desire to do good unto others and do what is best for himself. It would be correct in stating that Adamiir has a selfish streak running parallel to his generous one. A particular fascination of his is the Ayleids, and while his enthusiasm for history is great, the passion he feels for the Ayleids’ mysterious nature is unmatched. Sometimes when he thinks no one can see him, he pulls out a welkynd stone, as full of magicka as the day he first claimed it, and stares deep into the crystalline blue surface, mesmerized by its glow. Not a stranger to peril, Adamiir is confident in his abilities to escape most dangers with ease. More specifically, he puts stock in his prowess with the school of illusion, being able to manipulate the minds of others to cause chaos (or nullify it) while he makes a speedy exit from the scene. In cases where trickery wouldn’t be enough to solve the problem Adamiir faces, he is skilled in the fine art of melting faces. He has a habit of gripping at his pendant when nervous, and often mumbles the end of a thought out loud when not actively refraining from doing so. Backstory: Adamiir’s Biography - Prologue - An Attempted Theft For Jeriyn and Talasa Broell, the graveyard of Falkreath was like a candy shop. And they, of course, were the kids. As Jeriyn told Talasa often, there were enough dead soldiers buried there to take over the entire hold, and all it would take was two skilled necromancers, such as themselves. And as Talasa told Jeriyn often, the whole mess had better be worth their while, or she’d take Adamiir and turn tail right back to Cyrodiil, where it wasn’t so stupid cold. This exchange was repeated often between the two, all the way from Kvatch to the very graveyard in question. Talasa watched Jeriyn work incredulously, her babe pressed into her bosom to keep him warm during the chill of night. Shiiick, shuck, ksh Shiiick, shuck, ksh Shiiick, shuck, ksh Again and again Jeriyn labored, digging himself deeper into the earth, closer to the dead. Shiiick, shuck, ksh Shhckk “I’ve got it!” Jeriyn exclaimed, the sound of metal striking wood one that he knew well. He dropped to his knees and began to scoop the dirt out of the way by hand, and sure enough the telltale planks of a coffin were revealed to him. “This is just the beginning,” he whispered to himself. “Soon, we’ll have an army.” Jeriyn hoisted himself out of the grave, and stood on its precipice. “Talasa, fetch the axe, I need it.” Wordlessly, she turned to leave. Talasa hated it when Jeriyn ordered her around in that manner, but refusing would just make him angry. Nighteye guided her safely to the edge of the graveyard and beyond, into the brush where their horse, Whisper, was hidden, the animal’s reins tied to a sturdy, low hanging branch. Talasa retrieved the demanded axe from the saddlebags, its heavy weight feeling awkward and alien in her grasp. She started back towards Jeriyn, but froze mid step only a few paces later. There were angry shouts originating from where she came, followed by the unmistakable sight of Jeriyn’s spellfire. Talasa sucked in her breath, clutching at Adamiir, hoping against hope that her husband would come out of this unscathed. It wasn’t to be. There were no more signs of magicka expenditure, yet the angry voices remained, and they were drawing closer. Talasa looked down in horror at the tracks in the snow that would lead her pursuers straight to her location. She took action in an instant, struggling to free Whisper’s reigns from the tree yet still managing. Pulling herself into the saddle, she seized the reins with one hand while her other arm held Adamiir close to her chest. The spurs digging into Whisper’s flanks were enough to get her moving, going at a full gallop out of the wood and onto the main road, Kvatch bound. A storm of arrows whizzed past Talasa and Whisper, the former releasing the reins and trusting the latter to guide them in order to curl themselves around their child. Fire erupted in Talasa’s thigh, then again under her right shoulder blade. Both times she lurched forward in the saddle, crying with pain. The second time she spat blood flecked spit onto Adamiir’s face. It did not take long before Whisper began to tire, and the horse slowed itself to a trot. Talasa held her head up slightly, surveying her surroundings as best she could as her vision began to darken. The Nords had not pursued. She lowered her head again, fixing her eyes on Adamiir. Alive. Unharmed. Tucking her chin against her chest and closing her eyes, Talasa allowed herself one small smile. The infant Adamiir stared up at his mother’s serene face with curiosity, her heart beats echoing in his right ear slowly weakening, barely kept aflutter by desperate healing magics. Whisper trotted on. Adamiir’s Biography - Part One - The Master Morinus Thiich needed an apprentice. It was only a short decade ago that he himself was the student, learning from the travelling mages and scholars delving deep into the Ayleid ruins for wealth and knowledge. However, his old teachers were now retired or dead, and in Morinus’ line of work, someone that had your back made the difference between life and death. An Ayleid temple tucked into the mountains separating Skyrim and Cyrodiil would mark the last time Morinus ever ventured into one of those dungeons alone. Now he would travel back south and scout the province’s various counties for an eligible apprentice. Life, however, had different plans in store. A blood stained babe clutched in the grip of what appeared to be said babe’s dying mother was not what Morinus Thiich expected to discover on his return trek home from the Jerall Mountains. But sure enough, there they both were, one atop the other, motionless on the side of the road, whoever or whatever brought them here already long gone. Morinus rushed over to the two, discovering the woman’s wounds to be much worse than he anticipated. Her left leg was mangled beyond repair, and a smouldering carcass of… something lay a few feet away. She tilted her head towards Morinus, her eyes glazed and unfocused. She lifted her arms once, feebly, raising her child towards the mage, before lowering them again, and growing still. This was not the ideal process that Morinus hoped to use, but he had been looking for someone malleable to pass his knowledge down to. The aging Breton sighed, and seized the infant up into his arms. Adamiir’s Biography - Part Two - Rocks and Spells, Spells and Rocks A few years passed since Morinus first found his pupil by the roadside, and the child that was known as Adamiir quickly became Morinus’ most promising student. Any free time seemed to have the child entirely absorbed in his studies. Learning of the lore and history of the world was one of Adamiir’s great passions. What took precedence above all other activities, however, was Morinus’ rigorous training regime, climbing trees and scaling large boulders would teach Adamiir to always remain agile and light on his feet, skills that would be tested when trees and boulders became the dilapidated ruins of ancient ayleid temples. Being able to bend the minds of friend and foe alike would always be an invaluable aid to Adamiir, as would spells of light that would guide Adamiir safely through even the darkest of crypts. Paralysis spells would come in handy whenever a quick escape was needed, while invisibility spells would ensure that he could not be tracked easily. Indeed, the many fine intricacies of the illusion school of magic were a great passion of Morinus’, one that he would ensure was passed down to Adamiir. However, there are always times in life when smoke and mirrors cannot deflect the truth, or for every tricky ace one has up their sleeve, their adversary has two more. The destruction school of magic was ideal for dealing with these incidents, and this too, Morinus taught to his young breton pupil. Aside from rocks and spells, he also saw it fit to give Adamiir some amount of proficiency in the art of trapping. When on the road away from extended periods of time, one must learn to be self sufficient. Though a few other bits and bobs were thrown in to occasionally mix up the schedule, the curriculum Adamiir would follow for years to come was set in stone. Adamiir’s Biography - Part Three - First Flight It was at fifteen years of age when Adamiir first accompanied Morinus on his excursions to the Ayleid ruins. The sheer scope of how vast the empire of the Heartland Elves once was awed him, whilst simultaneously instilling a strange sense of forlorn melancholy in his heart. Crumbling ruins crawling with the dead were all that remained. The underground locale shown to Adamiir was small, and of relatively simple design. Threats were few and far between, only a few shambling skeletons waiting to be sent to the next world. They were no match for Adamiir’s magic - Morinus was simply observing, waiting to see if his protégé was prepared for future excursions - and he suspected that Morinus chose this specific location for those exact reasons. Adamiir had been correct in assuming that a safer, more straightforward ruin was selected for the purpose of acting as a final test, as revealed by Morinus during their departure. From that point on, Morinus and Adamiir traveled across Cyrodiil as equals, the lessons taught by the former serving the latter well, and only magnifying in their usefulness. Adamiir’s Biography - Part Four - Homeward Bound For many more years, Adamiir and Morinus lined their pockets pilfering the riches of a long dead civilization. Mages across the province paid handsomely for the ethereal blue welkynd stones, while a contact in the Imperial City rewarded the pair handsomely for the more uncommon treasures they discovered. Lord Umbacano proved to be a most gracious associate, treating the two to fine meals whenever a particularly intriguing artifact was delivered. It seemed that whenever Adamiir and Morinus weren’t on the road, they were resting in an inn, the concept of home becoming a foreign term, just another pit stop whenever it was convenient for the route the two had undertaken. There came a time, however, when they were forced to return to their humble cabin in the Great Forest, a few miles down the road from the city of Chorrol. Morinus was growing weaker and more frail in his old age, turning a homecoming into an inevitable necessity. Adamiir’s trapping talents became more invaluable than ever, the furs and excess meats being traded with the local farmers for food, while anything he kept was consumed. During this time Adamiir made many stews, as it was easier for Morinus to consume. He became quite good at making them too. Despite Morinus’ weakened state, there was still one thing he could offer his apprentice. That was the secrets of the Ayleid language, and for the next few years leading up to his passing, the two spent much of their time together going over all of the knowledge at Morinus’ disposal. Morinus had urged Adamiir a few times, before he became sickly, to let him be and go make a fortune, but Adamiir always refused, insisting that his place was at Morinus’ side. He vowed to watch over his master for as long as necessary. And he did. Adamiir’s Biography - Part Five - Bad News, Good News, More Bad News After Morinus’ death, Adamiir was on the road once again. He couldn’t deny it, the call, the call that both he and his old master had felt. The secrets and treasures of the Ayleids called to him, their siren song luring him ever closer to his destiny, and further into the depths of the earth. For three more years Adamiir traveled Cyrodiil and fell deeper under the spell of his beguiling mistress, the lost Ayleid culture. It was on a routine stop to Kvatch to drop off some welkynd stones at the local mages guild that he first heard of the Emperor’s assassination, as well as the festivities to be held in celebration of the Count’s birthday. On a whim, Adamiir decided to stick around and participate in the festivities. That choice was very quickly turning out to be a grave mistake. Spells: Illusion- Immobilize (Touch), Dominate Creature/Human (Ranged), Eyes of Midnight (Self), Calming Touch (Touch), Rage (Ranged), Voice of Rapture (Ranged), Fearful Gaze (Ranged), Heroic Touch (Touch), Torchlight (Self), Ghostwalk (Self), Mute (Ranged), Shadow (Self) Destruction- Lightning Grasp (Touch), Dire Wound (Ranged), Frost Bolt (Ranged), Searing Grasp (Touch), Lightning Bolt (Ranged), Flare (Ranged) Restoration- Convalescence (Ranged), Heal Major Wounds (Self), Heal Minor Wounds (Self) Alteration- Protect (Self), Open Very Easy Lock (Touch) Inventory: The clothes on Adamiir’s back A travel pack that the following items are either stored in or strapped to Sturdy twine for snares Two reusable bear traps Bedroll 243 septims 3 weak potions of sorcery Steel knife, utilitarian Flint & steel A welkynd stone Character Name: Veeza Age: 32 Race: Argonian Sex: Male Birthsign: The Lord Specialisation: Combat Class: Brawler Skills: Expert- Hand to Hand Journeyman- Heavy Armor, Athletics, Suturing (Craft) Apprentice- Acrobatics, Restoration, Speechcraft, Alchemy (Craft) Novice-One Handed Blades, Two Handed Blades, One Handed Blunt, Block Appearance: When in the thick of combat, Veeza’s opponents and onlookers alike find it easy to mistake the massive Argonian for a dragon. Standing at six foot five, with dull red scales the color of blood pulled taught over tightly coiled muscles, Veeza is a giant. His tail, thick and muscular like the rest of him, is a dangerous weapon in it’s own right. Atop his head lies a mismatched crown of spikes, varying from half a palm to a full palm in length, about as wide as a sword hilt at the base, tapering into sharp points at the tip. Many of them are chipped, while a few are broken off entirely, leaving bony, jagged stumps in their place. Veeza’s eyes are a pale, sickly yellow, with pupils as lizard-like as the rest of him. While his scales act as a natural defense, fifteen years spent fighting for his life in the arena has left Veeza with a plethora of scars marring his body, leaving none of him untouched. The worst of them have been caused by a wayward spear that found itself buried in Veeza’s stomach; the scales did not regrow, and a knot of angry pink scar tissue remains just up and to the left of his belly’s navel. Veeza dons a simple set of iron armor sans helmet in the hopes of preventing future scarring of any kind. Rarely will one find the Argonian outside of his armor, though he owns a pair of cloth trousers just in case he desires to swim. Personality: As opposed to his intimidating appearance, Veeza is actually quite the personable fellow. Conversation comes easily enough when he’s able to relax in the moment, though he often comes across as detached and somewhat irritable when stressed. He never fails to speak his mind regardless of what he desires to say, and puts little stock in the opinions of others, especially those seeking to denounce him. Typically, those capable of intelligent, polite conversation as well as feats of valor upon the field of battle can earn his respect, while those that lack the former will also be subject to his ire. In battle, Veeza stands stoic against the enemy, ready to endure blows meant for others and dish out the pain he’s receiving tenfold upon his opponents. It is in the middle of a good fight that the Argonian feels most at home, and his mind seems clearest. The thrill of fighting for his life against worthy adversaries is simultaneously both thrilling and terrifying, feelings that are magnified as he crushes bones aided by nothing but his own immense strength and a gauntleted fist. He excels at fighting both aggressively and defensively, and has not yet been in a situation forcing him to lose his cool. Backstory: Veeza’s Biography - Prologue - Drunken Lizard Gulum-Ra sighed, looking down at the small Argonian child swathed in blankets, resting on the floor of the small hovel the two shared together in the Waterfront. “Your mother was the fighter, boy. Not me. She was the one that fought for everything we have. Had. Every day she went back into that arena, that damn arena, so she could pull the weight of her useless son and his addict father. That’s us, you piece of sewer filth. Taseel always said that you had the makings of a fighter, like her. Strong bones, she said. Lots of energy. She wanted you to go train with your uncle in Kvatch, so you could be a big strong fighter just like her.” Gulum-Ra paused abruptly, his bitter tone ceasing, as he took a swig of ale. He shook the bottle discontentedly; it was nearly empty. “Well she went into that arena again today, and guess where that got her? Nowhere. She’s dead. So tomorrow morning I’m going to pay the first capable stranger I see as much as it takes to get you to that uncle of yours. He’ll train you to be a fighter-” Swig. “-like your mom. Who knows, maybe you’ll join her. I, however, will take the rest of my funds and purchase enough skooma to fatally overdose-” Swig. Empty. “-ten times over. I’ll never have to see your stupid face again.” Gulum-Ra continued his tirade for a while longer before sinking to the floor a few feet away from his son, drifting into a drunken stupor. Veeza continued to pretend he was asleep. Veeza’s Biography - Part 1 - Nothing But A Pair Of Fists Veeza’s uncle was a stern and uncompromising man, either things were done his way or not at all. From the moment Gulum-Ra thrust Veeza into Mush-La’s care, there was no time to do anything but train. Even at age three, the young Argonian was worked to near exhaustion every day with a series of intensive workouts meant to build up his muscular endurance and strength, his uncle shouting encouragement or criticism as necessary every step of the way. From an early age he learned to remain cool in the midst of stressful situations; Mush-La was almost as physically imposing as Veeza would one day become. Through his younger years and into adolescence, he was trained with a variety of weapons in a variety of different styles of combat, either by his uncle or fighters from the arena aiding Mush-La for the sake of coin or camaraderie. It was at twelve years old, when Veeza nearly caved in the face of another child that was harassing him, that he knew he wanted to focus on hand to hand combat. Mush-La, having spent most of his life fighting in Kvatch’s arena, was one of the few that had mastered the art of warfare without weaponry. From then on, Veeza’s lessons would focus on the fine art of rupturing organs and shattering skulls with nothing but a pair of fists. Veeza’s Biography - Part 2 - Graduation Day The years seemed to fly by after that, and things fell into their own steady rhythm. Not yet allowed to fight in the arena, Veeza spent much of his time in the bloodworks, picking up some basic first aid from compliant members at the local mages guild to provide help to wounded combatants whenever he had free time. Mush-La always refused his help, however. It almost seemed fitting that a few weeks after Veeza’s seventeenth birthday he entered the arena alive for the last time, leaving it as a corpse. Though a few members of the red team mourned for the unexpected loss, Veeza was not among them. His uncle was a mean man, and though he respected Mush-La as a teacher, there was no love between them. Besides, now was not the time to dwell on thoughts of mortality. Veeza had already scheduled his first match. Veeza’s Biography - Part 3 - The Pit Dragon The Orc before Veeza was big. Veeza was bigger. The fight did not last as long as one might think, in all honesty. The green brute charged the Argonian in a blind fury. Sloppy. The two grappled together throughout the arena, each holding on to the Orc’s axe with grips like vices. Eventually, Veeza managed to drive his opponent against a pillar, stunning him for a brief moment. In an instant the weapon was out of their hands and skittering across the floor of the arena. He took the opportunity to seize the defenseless Orc by his tusks, ramming the back of the warrior’s head into the stone pillar again, and again, and again. The opposing pit dog ended up dropping to the floor like a bag of stones, the back of his head a bloody paste. Veeza still held onto his tusks, one in each hand. The trend of brutal, uncontested victories continued throughout most of Veeza’s career. Years later he would still be known as the Pit Dragon in recognition of both his race and his ferocity on the battlefield, even as a new blood; a pit dog. It was during the fight that would promote him to the rank of gladiator did Veeza receive his most grievous scar. His opponent was well bred and well trained, a Nord known as Nilki Silver-Head. He never figured out whether that was in recognition of her prowess with her silver tipped spear, or for her striking platinum hair, tied back into a long pony tail. The match was nearly a disgraceful defeat for Veeza, within ten minutes of dodging her attacks and failing to disarm the woman, she had him close to death leaning against a pillar, her spear burrowed deep into his flesh. Hubris, however, can be a powerful tool. Nilki had turned her back to Veeza, shouting to the roaring crowd in triumph, a dagger as silver as both her spear and hair clutched within her left hand. She wanted to finish things up close and personal. Veeza fulfilled her wishes. He snapped the spear off at the head, using the shaft of wood to sweep Nilki’s legs out from under her. One more moment and he was straddling her back, his hands grasping at her hair, pulling upwards as hard as he could with the tip of her spear burrowing deeper into him. She screamed in terror for only a short while, then the sound of a sickening snap emanated from her neck, and she grew silent. Veeza rose to his feet, both hands clutching at the deadly wound Nilki dealt him, blood pouring between his fingers. He was victorious. Veeza’s Biography - Part 4 - The New Arena If the dead had the gift of hindsight, many of the arena combatants might have considered themselves lucky to have been torn apart by daedra hordes, as opposed to being torn apart by Veeza’s bare hands. Kvatch’s grand champion in specific was particularly lucky. As while many matches were planned in celebration of Count Goldwine’s birthday, the red team’s champion, Veeza, against the city’s grand champion, Langurius Nerich, was to be the main event. The two had a cordial, even friendly relationship, and Veeza’s challenge to Langurius’ title came as a surprise to all in the city. Tensions were running high, and this match was played up to be the biggest in decades. Fate seemed to have different plans for the two, however. Langurius would find himself a charred corpse on the floor of the bloodworks, indistinguishable from the others surrounding him. Meanwhile, Veeza would be fighting for his life to eventually reach safety within the walls of Kvatch’s chapel, waiting for what seemed to be an inevitable demise. Spells: Restoration- Heal Minor Wounds (Self), Convalescence (Target) Inventory: His iron armor, the gauntlets are reinforced with steel and have studs made of dwarven metal inlaid along the knuckles A hastily thrown together travel pack that includes A pair of trousers A mortar and pestle Needles and thread for sewing wounds Provisions of hard tack and dried jerky that could last around a week at full ration, double that at half 500 septims, the earnings from his last victory

A rebuttal against Naenya would have to wait, for the unmistakable sounds of advancing heretics echoed up through the winding halls and into the ears of Orintur, and it appeared to be a much larger force than the group had faced before. Gods above, and large it was indeed. Nearly a dozen of the demons and their hellspawn Scamp beastlings poured through the archway and into the party's poor excuse of a sanctuary. Adamiir and Veeza had already found their prey, and it was time for the Paladin to choose his own...and the mage that had just struck Naenya looked quite enticing to the furious Elf. Unfortunately, the Churl had already taken note of Orintur's gaze and struck him with a bolt of lightning midway through his charge. Orintur suddenly found himself unable to lift up his hammer to strike the mage, his right arm failing to barely bring the head off of the floor. It was a good thing then that Paladins were trained to be as versatile as they are zealous. Getting close enough to get a decent grip on the Churl, Orintur grabbed its wrist and wrenched it away from himself with his good arm, sending the next bolt flying harmlessly into the stone floor, before landing an armored backhand to the mage's head. This left the mage open enough for the Paladin to grab his dagger and bury it into the demon's neck before it could retaliate. His foe had fallen, but the effect of their assault remained, and so Orintur was forced to leave his beloved hammer on the ground for the time being and rely on his dagger...and raw strength. Standing over Naenya, Orintur remained on guard as he spoke to the she-Elf. "Can you stand, mage? Our fellows strike fast and true against these heretics, but I would not advise remaining on the ground as you are. I don't think Dremora will discriminate between the wounded and the battle-ready..."

Character Name: Orintur Graywatch Age: 57, approximate Race: Altmer Sex: Male Birthsign: The Tower Specialisation: Combat Class: Paladin Skills: Expert: Two-Handed Blunt Journeyman: Heavy Armor, Restoration Apprentice: Destruction, Athletics, Hand to Hand Novice: Speechcraft, One-Handed Blade, One-Handed Blunt, Foraging Crafting: Novice Smithing and Alchemy Appearance: For the most part, Orintur is your typical yellow-skinned Altmer, standing at about a head higher than the average height of most other races, with pointed ears and narrow eyes, irises matching his skin. What makes him a bit different, though, is that Orintur is noticeably far more muscular than the slim and dainty everyday High Elf, thanks to his extensive training with large two-handed weapons and heavy armors. Orintur keeps his platinum hair short; he hates how bothersome long hair can be and would rather be able to wake up and not need to rearrange anything. Of course it goes without saying that, as a Paladin, Orintur sees his fair share of combat. As such, he has a good number of scars to document his adventures. The most noticeable scar is a large burn mark on his lower abdomen, given to Orintur by a flame atronach summoned by an accursed warlock that had been terrorizing nearby villages. The Altmer's armor intercepted the fireball, but that didn't stop all the damage, for his armor had reached searing levels of heat where it was hit. Unable to take off his cuirass in the middle of battle, Orintur fought for several more minutes with it on, and with every movement he was scorched further. By the time the mage was dead, not even the most powerful of Restoration magics could have healed his wound completely. Far less epic scars line Orintur's body, mainly across his arms, some acquired during his training, others given to him by bandits and other foul creatures that lucked out and bypassed his armor. Personality: Being a High Elf, one of another race would be inclined to groan at Orintur's approach, thanks to his race's less than tolerant view of anyone not their own. One would most certainly not expect, though, for the young(for a High Elf, anyway) Paladin to greet them with ecstatic glee; indeed, Orintur is as nice as nice gets...well, as long as you aren't a heretic. Following the dictations of his patron god, Stendarr, Orintur has unending love for the citizens of Tamriel, and is always happy to meet new people and offer his services to those in need. This love stops, though, for those that would bring harm to anyone under his protection, that being every person in Tamriel not openly against the Nine Divines. These villains are deemed heretics, and Orintur believes it is his mission as bestowed upon him by Mighty Stendarr to bring them to justice, be it at the end of a gavel...or his hammer. Bandits, conjurers of foul daedra, rogue wizards and necromancers, and thieves to a lesser extent all fall under Orintur's definition of "heretic", and such people would do well to keep their hobbies a secret from the ever-wary Paladin if they want to get in his good graces. The good citizens of Tamriel and all other adherents of the Nine Divines, however, can feel free to approach Orintur with all manner of problems; whatever they be, most can probably be solved with his hammer. If a hammer is not enough, then the Altmer can turn to his magics of Restoration and Destruction, or even his limited knowledge of alchemy and smithing, for he is nothing if not versatile. Orintur takes great pride in assisting those around him, and would give his life if it ever came to such a thing, so strong is his faith in the teachings of the Divines. Unfortunately however, Orintur's zealotry has made some of even the most pious of church-goers fearful of him, worried that they may unknowingly engage in some innocuous activity that nevertheless draws the paladin's ire and would put them at the end of a warhammer. Many city guards are also not quite fans of Orintur, viewing his methods as too extreme and uncompromising, and disruptive to the general peace. If he is not barred from entering a city outright, the Altmer is under the strict watch of a detachment of guards who stand at a distance, waiting for him to step out of line. Backstory: Orintur has no knowledge of his homeland, where exactly he was born, when he was born, or even who birthed him. From what he could gather from his adoptive family at the Chapel of Stendarr in Chorrol, a young woman brought him to the chapel as a baby. The woman, who was in a heavy concealing cloak and scarf, said his name was Orintur Graywatch, and to the Primate's great confusion and frustration, she would not reveal any more details, no matter how much she was pressed. The only other words the woman spoke was a request to "please raise him to be kind". In the second the Primate turned his head to look at Orintur, the woman had vanished. Letters of inquiry to other chapels and contacts turned up fruitless; the woman could not be found nor was there anyone under the name of Graywatch in Cyrodiil. With no one else able or willing to take the infant elf in, the Primate decided to make the chapel his new home, and raise him under the guidance of the Commands of the Divines with the help of the other priests. Orintur, under the wise tutelage of the Primate and priests of Stendarr, came to learn and hold dearly the teachings of the Nine Divines. Memorizing the Ten Commands and taking to heart the wisdom of revered saints, the Divines became the center of his life, and Orintur would spend many hours of the day praying and performing rites, taking short breaks to eat simple foods, help around the city, and sleep until the next morning where he would renew his routine. No doubt Orintur looked peculiar praying at the altars, being a High Elf and what all that entailed to those that didn't know anything of him, but everything just seemed to fit for the Altmer. He felt Zenithar fill his bones with the strength to live day after day, Mara fill his heart with love, and Julianos fill his mind with wisdom. The Divine that Orintur felt closest to, of little surprise, being raised in his chapel, was Stendarr. He felt compelled to help and protect the weak, and was overjoyed whenever he was able to do volunteer work to assist the needy. At twenty-five, fifteen years after beginning his general training as a devotee of the Divines, Orintur spoke to the Primate and requested he begin training to serve Stendarr. The Primate, naturally, was overjoyed, and asked what he would like to specialize in. Orintur thought long and hard on this, and eventually came to a conclusion: he would be a paladin of Stendarr. It just sounded right to him, marching across Cyrodiil, striking down evildoers and offering aid to those whose paths he crossed; it felt like something was calling him to take on the mantle of Paladin. To this day, Orintur attributes his choice to the guiding hand of Stendarr, who believed the Altmer would be best suited for that path above all others. Orintur's training officially began with the arrival of a full-fledged paladin, whom the Primate called to the Chapel to teach the High Elf every other month; Orintur's lessons would alternate between martial and spiritual training, with the Primate instructing him in all the rites of Stendarr. Romana Marius was a behemoth of a woman, almost as tall as Orintur himself and with plenty of muscle to match. Her red hair was short and messy, with a face as plain as a foundation stone and a stare that could shatter one; Romana certainly had no time set aside for looking nice. With how mean she could look on the outside, however, Romana was surprisingly amicable. You had to listen for her smile, not look for it, as one of the priests familiar with her once said. She was glad that Orintur chose the path of the paladin, as according to her their numbers were running quite low, and made Orintur aware of their kind's high mortality rate. She was greatly pleased to hear her student's confidence and determination, and began his first lessons. They spent several weeks trying to find the aspiring warrior a weapon of choice, and went through many with little success. Sword and shield, spears, axes, none quite clicked with Orintur...until he came to the mighty warhammer. He was practically in love with the raw power of such a weapon, and asked to be trained in its use. The first two years with Romana was specifically spent learning how to wear heavy armor and properly use a warhammer, along with a bit of hand-to-hand training. Proper footing, getting down the right amount of momentum, using distance to one's advantage, all the basics. When she believed Orintur could use the weapon confidently, Romana began engaging in full-on spars with her student. While obviously not on equal footing with his mentor, Orintur could still land his fair share of strikes. One day, Romana hit Orintur with an extremely heavy strike, bruising him terribly. What he initially believed was an accident was actually Romana transitioning into her next lessons: the art of Restoration, and how to heal oneself and others. She began by teaching Orintur a basic healing spell to ease his bruising, which he took it upon himself to learn quickly, as the wound panged quite unpleasantly...and then she made him do it again after the next spar when she fractured his index finger. Romana made it clear that she did not injure him for her own amusement, but rather to encourage him to learn how to heal himself faster and give him more experience with Restoration magics. Still, Orintur didn't quite appreciate the beatings even with that assurance, but the more potent spells she taught him after a few months softened the literal blows a bit. The next four years were a repeat of that routine of sparring and then healing, and going out to help those brought into the safety of the city after being attacked by bandits, wolves, and whatever else lurked the roads and forests. Romana had Orintur simply watch at first of course, no telling what an inexperienced student would get wrong, but eventually he was allowed to operate on his first patient. Using the most simple spell available, the Altmer successfully closed the gashes of an unfortunate victim of a mugging. He liked those lessons much more. Two more years were spent learning the art of Destruction; Romana admitted that while, yes, Destruction was quite an unsavory school, a paladin needs several methods of attacking, as one may not be able to get close enough to bash away with steel. Another two years passed, all the time with Romana spent perfecting his technique after having learned all of the basics of combat and magic. When the time had come for Orintur's trial of initiation, he could manuever himself smoothly even in heavy iron, could close and mend the wounds of himself and others in under twenty seconds, and his prowess with warhammers was something to be feared. Romana, the Primate, and all others who had witnessed his training were confident in his ability...but were the Divines? Such was the purpose of his trial, to determine his worthiness in the eyes of Stendarr. Orintur's mission: Head to a nearby cave, once the lair of some goblins, and destroy the warlock hiding away inside. The warlock had been attacking travellers on the road to Chorrol frequently, and was the cause of all the recent burn victims carried into the city. He was to bring back their staff as proof of his success. The moment Orintur stepped into the vile lair of the mage, the scent of death hit him in the face with nauseating force. In the second chamber was the cause: Six glassy-eyed corpses, reanimated by the darkest of magicks. They were the unfortunate travellers that did not make it the rest of the way to Chorrol, their flesh singed with intense magical flames. To profane the dead in such a way was heresy in the eyes of Arkay, and so Orintur dispatched them swiftly. The slow, shambling zombies were no match for Orintur and his warhammer, and the Altmer had little issue releasing them from their servitude. Deeper in the cave, however, was a sight truly horrible: piled up in a corner was a mountain of corpses, most much, much older than the poor souls in the previous chamber. Next to them were bloody carts; the blasphemer had been practicing necromancy far before moving near Chorrol. Filled with righteous fury, Orintur was going to make sure the bastard would not be able to relocate this time. At the very end of the cave was a large open room with torches, and sconces filled with bones. In the middle was a stone altar with a multitude of body parts arranged in a vaguely humanoid shape...with the sickening mage ogling at their handiwork with childish wonderment. The clanking of armor alerted the aging warlock, but she was none too impressed with her adversary, wondering aloud if the following of Stendarr was so weak that they had to send a boy after her. Summoning forth a fire atronach, the warlock looked on amusedly as her minion went to work on Orintur. The atronach was swifter than he anticipated, and he missed his first swing. Now at a safe distance, the daedroth flung a ball of fire at Orintur, hitting the middle of his cuirass. Though not hit directly, the heated part of his armor would occasionally brush against his body, searing him painfully whenever he turned. Deciding his foe was too good at gaining distance, the Altmer switched to blasting the atronach with orbs of ice. Only when the summon was in a weakened state did Orintur charge forth and let his hammer crash down on his foe's skull. Turning away from the fizzling remains of the flaming abomination, the warlock and the paladin-to-be locked eyes, both glaring at the other. Lifting up her staff, the warlock let loose a fireball, crashing behind Orintur as he jumped to the side to avoid another unfortunate burn wound; the one he had already was getting on his nerves as it was. Retaliating with a lightning bolt, the furious High Elf advanced quickly, his attack sending the warlock's next fireball askew, far away from her charging foe. Before they were able to send out another spell, Orintur knocked the mage to the ground with a hard shoulder-bash, who followed up with a quick stomp to their arm, breaking it and forcing them to let go of their staff. The blasphemer's predictable last-ditch promises of unlimited power went unheard, and were ultimately silenced by Orintur's warhammer cracking them across the skull, snapping her neck at a disgusting angle. After treating his burn as best as he could, Orintur grabbed the accursed staff and prayed to Arkay and Stendarr, praying that the souls of the dead so disrespectfully mutilated in the cave would be tended to, and that the warlock would hopefully be granted pardon by Stendarr the Merciful. It was dark by the time Orintur returned to the chapel, and he was greeted by the relieved cheering of its inhabitants. Handing the staff to the Primate, it was announced that Orintur would be made a paladin of Stendarr on the morn. Never before had rest felt so deserved to the anxious Altmer. After waking and praying at the altars, Orintur met the Primate at the center of the chapel. He was surpised at how many were in attendance: there was Romana and the other priests of the chapel, which wasn't too shocking, but behind them in the pews were several citizens of Chorrol and even a few guards. Kneeling low, the Primate proudly began the induction speech, placing upon Orintur the blessings of Stendarr and the other Divines, charging him with the faithful service of the good people of Tamriel, to defend and protect the weak and innocent, and to forever hold the ideals of generosity and kindness to others in his heart. Accepting these gifts and responsibilities, Orintur rose and took in his hands the steel warhammer and donned the steel armor forged by Chorrol's blacksmith, ordered by Romana and the priests specially for the Altmer's coronation. After the ceremony, Romana told Orintur that the reason for the large amount of attendees was that a paladin of Stendarr hadn't been inducted in many years, and it was an exciting event for the townsfolk. He vowed to not disappoint the people of Chorrol, or of anywhere else in Tamriel. To that end, he geared up, said his great thanks to the kind priests that raised him, to and the Primate Romana for their teachings, and set out across Cyrodiil. The following years weren't exactly full of epic adventures and quests to destroy evil artifacts. In fact, Orintur's new life as a paladin was fairly mundane, and that suited him just fine. Helping people with problems, big or small, filled Orintur with purpose, and his spirits were raised with every word of thanks and gratitude. He took very little in terms of rewards, accepting little more than pieces of fruit or refills for his waterskin. As a result of this, and his eventual reputation as a reliable but incredibly extreme man of the faith barring him entry from most cities by the guards, Orintur has had to learn how to find his own food in the form of berries and edible plants along with the uncommon pieces of meat from the game he is able to reliably hunt, and has also taken it upon himself to learn the basics of using small swords and handaxes, just in case he ever finds himself without his hammer or enough magicka for spells. The intricacies of smithing and alchemy are far beyond the Altmer, but he knows enough to keep his armor and weapons in decent shape, and can brew basic potions for healing, fatigue, and magicka recovery. The news of the Emperor's death saddened Orintur greatly, and upon hearing of the event he gave himself to the Kvatch arena games, hoping to honor the late Uriel Septim with victory in combat. He planned to later pray and mourn in the Chapel of Akatosh, and unbeknownst to him them, pray and mourn he would, but not just for the dead Emperor, but for all people of Tamriel. Then the time for prayer would end, and thus would begin the purging of heretics, blashphemers, and daedric abominations. The Princes themselves shall fear the name Orintur Graywatch! Spells: Restoration Greater Convalescence(J), Heal Major Wounds(A), Convalescence(A), Heal Minor Wounds(N) Destruction Shock(A), Corrode Armor(A), Snowball(N) Inventory: Storage 1 x Large Leather Backpack 1 x Leather harness w/ three pouches Alchemy Gear 1 x Mortar/Pestle 3 x Empty vials Sufficient ingredients to make two potions of light healing, and one potion of light magicka recovery 1 x Healing/Stamina/Magicka potions Tools/Arms and Armor/Clothing 1 x Green cotton shirt/black trousers/leather boots 1 x Set of fluted steel plate armor with gauntlets, greaves, and a bucket helmet w/ raisable face plate 1 x Steel warhammer 1 x Iron dagger, fastened to harness across cuirass 1 x Armourer's hammer and whetstone 1 x Small handaxe for chopping up bits of wood for fires, fastened to his backpack Food and Provisions 1 x Medium sized waterskin 2 x Cuts of cooked venison 1 x Red Apple 3 x Half-loafs of bread 1 x Small leather tent and bedroll

Reclining on the suspicious bench, despite Orintur’s warning, Aveca was lost in her thoughts. She was thinking of the warm bed she’d had at the inn in Kvatch, and how much she wished she was there now. Despite that, she considered what she was doing important and wouldn’t truly have gone if the opportunity magically presented itself. Still, tiredness was seeping into the healer’s bones as the adrenaline rush faded, and her eyes slid shut slowly. That was why the Daedra bursting through the door brought her such a fright. It caught her completely off guard, and she jumped to her feet in a rush, knocking her pack over and spilling a few of it’s contents on the grimy floor. Paying it little heed, Aveca turned her attention to her companions and their fight, drawing her bow off her back and preparing to pull an arrow from her quiver. Unfortunately for her, a Dremora Churl had already advanced close enough to her to knock the bow out of her hand. Aveca, thoughts jumped, was the next to be knocked around, crashing to the ground with a thud after being punched by the fiend. Reflexively, she rolled to the side, and it probably saved her life, as the churl’s mace crashed against the floor where her chest had been not moments ago. Bow lost, the nord turned to her last resort. The knife was usually used more for utility and cutting than fighting, in truth, she didn’t think she’d ever fought with this dagger in particular, but either way, she drew it with surety. A healer she was, perhaps, but she knew when she shouldn’t hesitate, especially against the inhuman demons of Oblivion. Aveca leaped to her feet with purpose while the Dremora picked up his mace and prepared to swing again. Quickly and without hesitation, she stepped into the demon’s personal space, shoving her iron dagger quickly into its neck. Black blood surged once again onto her hand, this time down her arm, staining her clothing. Taking a step back and pulling her dagger out of its body, the Churl fell to the ground with a thud.

Character Name: Aveca Ice-Bear Age: 26 Race: Nord Sex: Female Birthsign: The Steed Specialisation: Magic/Stealth Class: Healer Skills: Expert: Restoration Journeyman: Marksman (Bow), Alteration, Alchemy (Craft) Apprentice: Destruction, Speechcraft, Hunting (Craft) Novice: Mercantile, Illusion, Acrobatics Appearance: Aveca stands at about 5’6” tall. She has the characteristic pale white skin of the Nords, as well as fair coloured features. Her hair is a light white-blonde colour with some yellowish tones. She has choppily cut bangs (done herself with a sharpened knife, quite carefully) that swoop in around her face, down to about nose length. The rest of her hair is usually kept either in a braid or in a messy bun, but when left long it goes down just past her armpits. Her eyes are a blue-gray tone, and her face is lightly freckled. She is also able-bodied. She wouldn't get called a muscular person in general – you wouldn’t catch her in chainmail – but her body is accustomed to exercise and comfortable with the weight of drawing a bowstring. She never let herself get lax just because she practices magic. As far as scarring and blemishes, Aveca has few. As a healer, she has usually been able to heal any more recent scars, but she has some very light markings (faded by time) up her legs and arms from the usual childhood rough activity and learning to hunt in her younger years. Between her youth and her training, she got one significant scar, which is a simple gash mark on her leg from a run in with a bear. Aveca has little need for armor. She tries to avoid direct combat, so armor would in the end only inhibit the way she tries to weave around a battle and aid the injured. She prefers simple clothes, leggings and a tunic, or sometimes a dress or skirt. These she always wears over leggings and with boots, as she likes to be prepared for any situation. Personality: Aveca is a healer, and that is her passion, but it could in no way define all she is. She believes in aiding the wounded and sick, and wants to go out across the world and help good people, but she also has a fairly strong sense of justice and can be harsh with it at times. She won’t aid you regardless of who you are on the basis of you being a living being. After all, hunter and healer don’t tend to correlate. She isn’t afraid to throw fire around if it comes down to a fight, but she much prefers to avoid one. The bow she carries, she prefers to use for hunting than on people. Her passion is much more around the idea of widespread misery and sickness; her interests lie in sickness and disease, in the curing of plagues and foreign illnesses. She has an apt and interest for academic learning, but can become bored easily if it isn’t related to her interests (being healing, alchemy, living things, cultures, languages). Despite this, she tends to help first and ask questions later. She will heal someone without a second thought in an instant, because she would rather help someone and expect them to be a good person than not take the risk in case they may be less savory. However, if ever she was betrayed she would retaliate in full force. Overall, Aveca is a happy and optimistic person. She wants to travel and experience the world, to meet, to help, and to socialize with people from everywhere there is. She is generally willing to engage in a conversation at any time and with anyone, as long as she isn’t trying to heal. She takes her work seriously and doesn’t like distractions while she is actively doing a spell. One thing is that you don’t want to get into an argument with her. She’ll get heated over anything she has an opinion on, and she won’t let go, either. Backstory: Katla and Eirn were rather typical Nords. They met in Markarth, where Katla lived with her family (merchants), and Eirn travelled through as a hunter selling meats. He trekked back and forth across Skyrim all his life, with his parents and then later on his own. He met Katla at the market there, and found himself coming to Markarth more and more often. Her family disapproved, but they married and she too to travelling with him. She enjoyed the adventure. When Aveca and her sister, Laisa, were born, their parents stopped for a time at a camp they built outside of Whiterun. It provided some stabililty for the young girls. As they grew older, their parents started travelling with them more. They had a cart and tents, so it wasn’t as though they lived in total discomfort. Aveca was quite fond of the dirt and the travel, whereas Laisa was jealous of the nicely dressed children they met in cities. Over the years, Aveca learned hunting from their father from a very young age, and their mother taught Laisa the ways of business so she could go out on her own someday, without having to depend on someone else. When she was 13, Aveca asked her family to take her north to the College of Winterhold to learn, and they did. Her mother was a firm believer in doing what you want to do. At first try, the nice man at the gate told her and her mother that they simply couldn't let in a totally untrained mind, and at such an age, though he would have liked to. He asked her to gain some preliminary knowledge and to return in a few years. Her mother was frustrated, and, determined for her daughter to have what she wanted, they traveled to Markarth and left Aveca with a mage she knew from her life there. He was an Alteration mage named Aenar who worked in the temple. She spent a year and a half with him and helped him with his work, while developing a base knowledge of how magic works and how to preform it. She learned a solid base of novice spells and returned to the College with her family just as she was almost 15. This time, they let her in to learn more after she demonstrated that she had the skill for learning it. For the first few years she studied generally and with vigor, but when she was 17, her family travelled north to tell her that her mother had died of an illness. She never got the chance to say goodbye because of the distance. Her sister was still ill with the same sickness, however it was less advanced and the mages in Winderhold healed her. This ignited Aveca’s passion more specifically for healing and she undertook learning all she possibly could about it. She had a knack for magic and dedicated her whole life to it from the age of 17 until she was 24. She still kept hunting on as a hobby, something she did for an afternoon every week, maybe. As for Laisa, when she was 18 she made some business connections and set up a shop in Riften. When Aveca was 24, she herself deemed her training temporarily complete. She had a very advanced training in healing, as well as alchemy and alteration, but she didn’t have the same knack for the rest of the schools and she didn’t focus on them nearly as much. She left the college of her own accord and again travelled Skyrim with her father for a good number of months until she passed south to Cyrodill from Riften, after a visit with her sister. Once there, she used a mixture of hunting, healing, and alchemy to make an income. She started in the north in Burma, and travelled south through Chorrol, Skingrad, and finally Kvatch. During this time she travelled very light, with a sac on her back for various alchemical pursuits, and very little else. She stayed in inns in the cities as long as she could afford to do so. Spells: Restoration: Heal Minor Wounds, Major Respite, Cure Paralysis, Cure Poison, Heal Superior Wounds, Devour Health, Cure Disease, Superior Convalescence Alteration: Lightning Shield, Water Breathing, Water Walking, Protect Other, Destruction: Electric Touch, Flash Bolt, Frost Touch Illusion: Illuminate, Soothing Touch Inventory: Steel Bow Quiver of Iron Arrows (x20) Iron Dagger (more for daily use than fighting) Pair of black leggings Sturdy leather boots Light blue tunic Brown cotton dress, white corset, decent quality Travelling cloak Leather belt with pouches Waterskin Knapsack, leather Bedroll with bedding Mortar and Pestle Alchemical ingredient pouch (mostly herbs for healing potions, but with some other ingredients) Vials and corks for those potions Minor Magika Potions (x2) 75 Septims Dried meats, bread, cheese

Glancing behind him, Niko couldn't help but smile at Brona's words - it was encouraging that some in the group could continue to make light of things in a realm as dark as this one. "I have no intention of leaving you - I feel your "womanly touch" may just save our hides at some point." He responded with a grin, motioning towards her bow. None of the others had a ranged weapon on them, from what Niko could tell; and while it could be problematic shooting in such close quarters as a tower, he had no doubt that Brona could handle herself just fine with the blades at her hip as well. Exchanging more grateful smiles with Bardeck as the young warrior walked across the bridge (In Niko's opinion, far too fast, but that was likely just the worried father in him speaking. Nevertheless, he was relieved to see Bardeck cross safely.), he felt much better about their chances with the four of them. Before she had time to respond to the Nord, Bardeck collided into her, nearly knocking her completely off her feet, "Well hello there." She said, catching herself after a few steps, and turned to face him. "I hope that I won't meet my fate by being shoved into a pool of fire, eh?" She cracked a grin at the warrior and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. No harm, no foul. Bardeck didn't exactly know what to look and act like, so he nodded and did his best to hide his face in his thick hair. The interior of the second tower was not too dissimilar to the first; much smaller, and without the beam of magical fire going through the center, but with the same harsh, stone decor. A winding pathway led both up and down, and watching above, a large stone platform could be seen. Before Niko could even ask for the smaller group's opinions on where to go, a voice could be heard from above. A human's voice, and one that sounded very familiar to Niko. The guttural tones of a Dremora came soon after, and a cry of pain could be heard. Looking to the others, Niko placed his finger to his lips - clearly, those above (and possibly below) weren't aware of their new visitors. It would seem they had a choice; storm to the top where the voices were heard, or go about it more sneakily. While both plans had advantages and disadvantages, Niko wondered about what lay below. The entrance to the tower via the bridge was covered by their fellows on the other side, but what about the ground level? Would it be worth taking a look, simply for their own safety? Brona froze at the voice of the Dremora, if one could even call it a voice. She turned to Niko, and slipped her hand around his elbow, pulling him in close to her so that she could whisper in his ear. "Let me have a look. I think this is where my 'touch' comes in handy." The broad shouldered Bardeck was somehow both on guard, yet emitting a casual air about him as he gazed around the blasted room they were in, trying to search for any means of attack from any place unexpected. The Dremora they'd heard, he had a huge desire to fight himself, but he let Brona handle it her way first. He'd seen her slip around enough to know she'd be effective at scouting ahead. Perhaps if she baited the Dremora and a few scamps back, Bardeck and Niko could take them out together in a quick, albeit brutal fashion. "Careful," he said to Brona. "Don't face anything on your own if you can help it." He didn't doubt how dangerous she could be. They'd fought together for the most part. But this was a group effort after all. He felt a tad 'naked' for lack of a better word without Gideon. He hoped his dog was doing ok. Niko paused as he considered their situation. Although a Dremora - and helpless victim - could clearly be heard above, there could easily be more than just one. Not to mention the possible foes leading down, so the thought of sending Brona off alone was not a good one. Glancing between Valentis and Bardeck, Niko recalled that the former had used a manner of ranged spells; while Bardeck and himself were fine with weapons, it would be attacks over distance that would provide the most aid for whatever lay above. "Okay... Brona - check out the top, but Valentis, you should go with her. I don't want anyone being left alone here, even for the sake of stealth." Nodding at the pair of Imperials, Niko locked eyes with Bardeck. "You and I will head down; we won't have to worry about anything coming across the bridge, so we need to make sure the entire tower is secure. If we do see something, at the very least we have the high ground." Hopefully, all four of them could get out alive and unhurt in this potentially monster-ridden tower. Niko only hoped the others were happy with his impromptu plan. Valentis thought the situation seemed dire. Once the unusually long journey across the bridge had been completed, what awaited the team once they reached the second, smaller but nonetheless equally as foreboding tower, was a fellow human trapped up in the highest reaches of the tower. He was not alone either, but accompanied by a Dremora, it seemed as if there was only one, this could be a interesting chance to capture one alive and learn about them, knowledge was power after all. "I will aid in whatever way I can, but should we not make an attempt to capture, or subdue this Dremora? We could learn something from it, if, of course, it even speaks our tongue, this is a Daedric realm, but we do not know of which Daedra prince owns it, nor of any intent that they have for breaching into the plane of Mundas; something long thought impossible." Valentis gave a brief pause and shifted his weight slightly. "If we can learn something, regardless of how little, I feel we should make the attempt." Valen would not be one to give out doses of mercy, especially to abhorrent beings such as the dremora, but death need not be swift for them, it will likely make the fight on the top floor far more dangerous and difficult, but he felt that both he and Brona could handle it. So she was stuck with the old man, perfect. And he was a talker. Brona suppressed an audible groan, and lowered her voice to a whisper, "If you want to help, keep quiet. The last thing I want is to end up dead, grandpa." With one hand, she conjured a spinning orb of light. Aiming it at the space between their feet, the orb evaporated into a burst of light. The spell would muffle their steps but they would need to move quick. She raised a finger to her lips, then retrieved the wooden recurve bow off its tethers and notched an arrow before beginning the ascent into the higher reaches of the tower. Bardeck saluted to them, indicating with an inclination of his head to Niko that he was ready to move forward. A warrior knew combat was far more instinct and reflex action than any conscious movement. But if they found themselves merely wounding a Dremora, he would be sure to knock it out simply and incapacitate it. "Careful," he told Brona and Valentis, before edging his way over to the archway that led to the lower levels. Bardeck had his shield before him and his axe at the ready. Valentis gave a small smile to Brona's response. Ah, that youthful arrogance, he almost missed it. He hoped at the very least that she would give his skills the benefit of the doubt, he may be old but he was far from any semblance of harmless. The young woman proceeded to use an interesting spell that Valentis had never seen before, it muffled their footsteps to the point where you could even jump and no sound would be emitted upon landing. Certainly a useful commodity, especially if you were up to anything sinister. Valentis nodded to Brona's gesture of silence and the pair made their way up the tower, steadily. As Brona and Valentis ascended the ramp, Niko nodded at Bardeck as the pair began to move down. As they steadily approached the bottom, the light noise of something moving reached Niko's ears. There would be no way of telling what it was until they reached the last bit of the ramp, but at that point, they would become obvious to their foe as well. Niko could only hope they could at least surprise whatever it was that was down there. "Bardeck - you take point. I'll hang back to give you some ranged support." He whispered, sheathing one of his swords and summoning a spell ready in his free hand; lightning crackled quietly in his palm, charged and ready to be flung at a hopefully unsuspecting dremora. However, as the pair moved ever closer to the bottom, there was no enemy in sight. Niko paused as Bardeck moved on, confused at their lack of foe. Bardeck nodded, his shield held before him at the ready. Eyes set forward, Bardeck carefully made his way down the steps, lower body moving almost separately with the rigid stance of his muscled, upper body. He felt the heat around him increase, and the noise of the lapping lava filling his ears. It was too late when he heard the guttural, juttering chuckle of the Dremora that had blended into the surrounding, spiked pillars. It leaped out of cover, and landed a solid blow on Bardeck's meaty shoulder with its flanged mace. Bardeck let out a gasp of pain, and his knees buckled from the surprise and weight. He hit the stairway and rolled down it, tumbling and bruising much of his form. The Dremora merely had Niko to contend with, at least at the moment. The attack occurred so fast, Niko barely had enough time to react by the time Bardeck hit the floor. Thankfully, the dremora wasn't baring down on the younger warrior to finish him off, instead turning to Niko with a wicked, fanged grin. His spell still charging in the palm of his hand, Niko let loose the lightning with a yell, readying his sword as he rushed the dremora. The electricity stunned it momentarily, but it still had an advantage over Niko. It was bigger, stronger, and it's mace had far more reach than Niko's swords. Ducking in low as it shook off his magic attack, he slashed diagonally across the creature's midriff... only for the metal to bounce off the daedric armour it wore, sending sparks into the air. Pulling his other sword from his sheath, Niko and the dremora gave their second attack at the same time; the Dremora's mace crunching down onto Niko's right sword arm, while Niko's left swung upwards towards the monster's unprotected head. He both felt and heard his arm bones snap at the weight of mace, but thankfully, his less dominant hand had swung true. The dremora toppled to the floor, half of it's head dangling from a thread of sinew. "Are you alright?" Niko panted as he staggered over to Bardeck, clutching his broken arm. His bracers hadn't done much to lessen the blow, and blood was already seeping through and dripping down his hand. It felt like an open fracture, but fixing it would have to wait - they had no idea how Brona and Valentis had faired up above. Bardeck grimaced and let out a growl at the pain. He sucked in quick, deep breaths as he sat up after the blow and the tumble. But he seemed to gather himself well enough. "I've had worse." He replied, presenting a determined visage to Niko. While what he said was true, that didn't mean he wasn't hurt like hell. Meanwhile... With muffled footfalls, Valentis and Brona emerged in the doorway, the interior of the room was dimly lit yet she could see a raised wooden platform. Suspended from the ceiling hung a cage where a tortured body of a man lay helpless. At the sound of shuffling clothes, her eyes shifted to the corner of the room where a Dremora, as she now knew them, moved away from a blazing brazier. In its hand, he, or as she assumed the daedra to be, carried a cruel looking device. The device was straight as a rod, save for the end as it split in two, one end curled backwards while the other end resembled that of a pair of shears. As he made his way over to the cage, the man, groaned in agony. "Please... no..." He whispered, his voice hoarse. A well of anger boiled inside of her as she watched the Dremora slip the torture device through the bars of the cage and reach towards its captive. Her bow raised, and in one smooth motion, she loosed the arrow she had notched on the bowstring. It sailed through the air, before the arrowhead buried itself in the skull of the Dremora. The daedra crumpled to the ground without another word. "Sorry about that." She said to Valentis before stepping into the torture room. Brona made her way straight for the cage, where the man struggled to push himself up. "We're going to get you out of here." Brona said to him, she assumed the key to the cage had to be on the Dremora, so she dropped to the ground, and proceeded to search its robes for the key. "Quickly, quickly! There's no time!" Were the first words out of the captive man's mouth, rather than a thankful speech of gratefulness that Brona likely deserved. "I heard the Dremoras talking while I was stuck in here - you must get to the top of the large tower! It's the only way to end this madness!" Wearing nought but a pair of thin cloth pants, the man was shivering; perhaps in fear, or pain, if the various injuries on his body were anything to go by - but certainly not from cold. Even in a tower separated from the lava outside, the air was stiflingly hot. "They call it the Sigil Keep - there's a stone, a Sigil Stone that will be at the top. That's what is keeping the Oblivion Gate open!" Glancing at the dead Dremora, and then towards Brona and Valentis, the man slumped to the bottom of his cage. "The Keeper has the key to the upper levels." He said, motioning towards the fallen Dremora. "Remove the stone, and the gate should close. I don't know if my cell key is in there, but there is no time. I can barely walk, and you'll have more than enough trouble to deal with in the other tower." The urgency drained out of the man's voice somewhat as he locked eyes with Brona, his face taking on a mingled expression of grief and acceptance. "Just... let the guards know that Menien Goneld did not bend to his captors will." As he mentioned, Brona's fingers curled around a cold metallic item, where she procured a long black key. This had to be the key to the upper levels. She lifted her gaze to meet his, and her heart ached at the sight. Here was a man, tortured for unknown reasons, a man who would likely die if he were left behind. Glancing at Valentis, she gritted her teeth before turning her attention back to Menien. "We'll come back for you. I swear it." She sprang to her feet, and called out to Valentis, "To the Sigil Keep then!"

Character Name: Nikolaus “Niko” Valerious Age: 37 Race: Nord Sex: Male Birthsign: The Lover Specialisation: Combat/Magic Class: Paragon Skills: Expert: One-Handed Blade (Dual-Wielding) Journeyman: Speechcraft, Destruction Apprentice: Athletics, Restoration, Heavy Armour Novice: Two-Handed Blade, Acrobatics, Illusion, Medicine (Non-Alchemical/Magical (Craft)), Hunting (Craft), Foraging (Craft) Appearance: Looking every part the Nord, Niko stands at a towering height of 6’7; matched with broad shoulders and the muscled build of someone who works his swords every day, he can seem somewhat daunting at times. However, when one focuses on his face, softness shines through. Gentle blonde brows above stormy grey-blue eyes; a sharp jawline softened by a smattering of badly trimmed blond stubble; high cheekbones crinkled with laughter lines, and dimples that brighten cheeks once round with wellness, but now have a somewhat haggard and hungry look about them. On a usual day out in the field, Niko can usually be seen wearing his armour; shaggy, dark-blonde hair pulled back haphazardly by messy braids, and shoulder’s stiff with the weight he is carrying. However, when more relaxed and among friends, his hair hangs loose, brushing against his eyes and shoulders in a messy but appealing manner – armour is replaced with comforting and loose clothing, shirt sleeves usually pushed up to the elbow and revealing a plethora of scars up and down his forearms. The scars carry on under his clothing; some fresher and deeper than others, but you’ll need to either get him drunk or be close to him to get the stories behind the scarring dotted over his skin – some hurt more than others, and not in a physical way. Personality: While he doesn’t smile as much as he used to, Niko remains still an amicable sort – but if one looks close enough, you can see the tension in his smile; the stretched out laughs that sound just a touch too hollow to be considered genuine or warm. His eyes have retained that caring spark of friendliness, but it dulls whenever nobody is looking his way. His kindness isn’t faked or forced… it’s just harder to be the way he was before. It’s rare for his grief or anger to come through, but when faced with something particularly cruel, or anything involved in raising the dead, anything remotely nice about him falls away, and his eyes become as hard as ice. Killing for him then isn’t just a job to be done; it becomes frenzied, and very personal. However, regardless of his own internal turmoils, he’ll remain good to those around him. While respect is earned, Niko makes a point of being polite to most, no matter how brash they appear to be. Being more than aware of how death and killing can get to a man, he’ll listen to people’s worries and concerns in the hopes he can do something to help them… when sometimes, a listening friend is all many need. When it comes to matter away from friends and family, Niko still remains polite; even in battle, while others may make puns, threats or quips while slicing down their enemy, Niko will do it as quickly and as painlessly as possible – no intimidation, no dark humour. It’s not his style. Neither is bragging of past battles fought, though one would be able to hear a good tale from him if coaxed enough – it comes from having a daughter, for him. Niko quite firmly believes that Mia should be kept safe from violence, bad language, and all of the other things that his race and Skyrim are famous for; a foolish endeavour, considering his girl is getting street-smart enough to find out about all of these things herself; but he remains very protective over her, not wanting to lose her as he lost his wife. This protectiveness passes on to his friends and family, particularly those he gets close to. Backstory: While our story begins in Kvatch, as does the life of Nikolaus. Born to an Imperial father and Nord mother, the pair had met, fell in love, and married in a short span of time – moving from the mother’s native Skyrim to Kvatch for a both safer and warmer climate to raise their son in. And it was a good childhood for Niko; there was never danger within the city walls, and with his mother and father’s decent wages from the Fighters and Mages Guild respectively, never had an empty stomach or cold night. Niko’s father – Percius – had his own parents, now retired, living in Kvatch too – so whenever he and his wife – Ulva – needed to do a job for money, they could quite simply live Niko with his grandparents and do what needed to be done. As a baby, Niko barely noticed his parent’s absence unless they were gone for a unusually long time; but as a child, he started growing curious as to what reason for and where his parents were going. Curiosity soon grew into indignation, and the usually mild-mannered child began to constantly question exactly why he had to stay at home, and why his parents had to leave all the time. Well… he was still mild-mannered in his questioning; politeness always came first, especially when talking to his elders. But it was clear to his parents that their little boy was growing up rather quickly, and would need to start learning something to keep him happy – and away from their own adventures. To counter this, Percius’ father – a retired guard of Kvatch - started teaching Niko how to use swords – of course starting with a wooden sword and a straw dummy at the young age of 8, but still, it worked well enough. With his grandmother teaching him his letters and numbers, Niko constantly itched for his training sessions every evening. Over time, Ulva began to spend more and more days at home, having growing tired from all of the contracts taken from the Fighter’s Guild. When Percius’ father grew too old to continue training Niko (now 13) Ulva took over, helping him branch out into proper training; wearing armour that weighed his light teenage frame down; real swords instead of wooden ones – she even persuaded Percius to begin training Niko in certain schools of magic, just so it would come in handy in the future. Niko picked up the magic just as well as his blades, barring a few incidents with rogue fireballs. He was fine once his eyebrows grew back, honestly. When Niko reached the age of 16, he had a firm grasp in the basics of restoration, destruction, and the wielding of blades. His mother wanted him to join the fighter’s guild, and his father wanted him to join the mage’s guild. Thinking he wanted the best of both worlds, he started working as a battlemage for the arcane university; training under a more experienced guard who worked there to get him up to the right standard for such a prestigious college. It was a solid job, and kept both of his parents happy – Niko continued to have a steady income, a warm bed, and full stomach. He was just going to be living with longer hours and bruised skin from his rigorous training regime – the safety of the mages and the University was no small matter, what with the countless troves of knowledge and precious items hidden within those walls. Niko had only been inside a few times, but he had caught glimpses of endless libraries, impossibly large, echoing chambers (He and a few colleagues enjoyed a few shouting matches in there before being kicked out by their Guard-Captain; after several hours of sprinting the battlements in full armour in the pouring rain, they decided not to do it again), and of course, the mages themselves. Only 2 really stood out to him; one was a slimy looking fellow. Niko was never one to judge people before meeting them, but as it happened, he had had the misfortune of meeting and talking to Conjurer Astian Onius – but Niko also had the fortune of meeting Astian’s cousin, Elisabeth. And to him, she was the greatest treasure in the University. At the age of 25 – now an established guard of his own right, having graduated his training top of the class (despite the hollering matches in the halls) – Niko finally plucked up the courage to talk to Elisabeth in a more than friendly manner, asking her to join him for drinks that night – no friends of his, and no weasel-like cousins of hers to accompany them. One night of drinks turned into another night, and then another; then it was candlelit meals, walks along the shores of lake Rumare, picnics in the forest. For anyone watching the pair, it would be quite obvious that the two were in love – and indeed, Astian was watching them. He was not happy. After 3 years of courting, Niko and Elisabeth were wed, and a year after that, she fell pregnant with what would be their first and only child. Named Amelia for Elisabeth’s mother who had passed that spring, their life seemed idyllic. But as time passed, things began to grow dark. Not in their relationship, exactly; they were still a happy couple, raising their daughter in Imperial City and continuing with their jobs – and it was their jobs that began causing issues. What with Niko just being a guard, he and his fellows didn’t really involve themselves in the fight for power brewing between the Mages – not just in the University, but across Cyrodiil. Favours were split, and Elisabeth herself was not wanting Hannibal Traven as Arch-Mage; She considered him too close-minded, especially when it came to matters such as necromancy; although having never done any spells in that area, she was doing research into possible life after death – a cure that could bring someone back if they were saved seconds after dying. An innocent enough area of study, and certainly with a noble enough gesture behind it. But once Arch-Mage Traven won the fight for power, she became cowed; fearful of what could happen to her and her work after the banning of necromancy by the Arch-Mage, she begged Niko for them both to leave Imperial City and the Mages Guild – they had more than enough experience between them both to get jobs elsewhere. Although slightly concerned at her reasons behind it – her cousin Astian had been visiting their home more than usual the weeks previous, having hushed and irritated conversations with Elisabeth before the harassed woman asked him to leave – Niko conceded, and along with their 6 year old daughter, left for his parent’s home in Kvatch; having died in the winter, they’d left the home to Niko and his family. The next two years that passed were easily the worst in Niko’s life. While Kvatch was a nice change at first; his daughter enjoying the smaller and more open city as opposed to Imperial City’s near stifling buildings and towering walls – he too was welcomed back with open arms, as many who still lived there knew his family. Getting a job as a guard was no trouble, what with his long service record at the Arcane University. He knew he’d probably get more money in the Fighter’s Guild or even a sellsword, but being a guard was safer, more secure, and more honest; that was just the kind of man he was. His wife, however, was growing more and more secretive. Elisabeth had become more withdrawn, even after moving away from the Mages Guild; “hunting trips” were going on far too long for her to come home with nothing, and she would constantly change the subject whenever her studies came up in conversation. As Astian’s trips became more frequent, and news of strange lights coming from caves not far from Kvatch began circulating through the city, Niko’s worries grew into suspicions. It was time to find out what his wife and her troublesome cousin were up to. As he followed Elisabeth from a distance – her leaving Kvatch a few hours previous for more “hunting” – Niko told himself that he was worrying over nothing. She was probably just continuing her research, and was worried about the Guild swooping in to stop her; but it wasn’t necromancy. Just research. Whether his wife was dabbling in the magic of raising the dead, Niko never knew – but whatever she had attempted to do in those dimly lit caves was too dangerous – as he watched on from the shadows, he saw something go wrong. He was no expert in the type of magic Elisabeth and Astian were attempting, so Niko couldn’t understand why after a sudden flash of light, Elisabeth hit the ground and no longer moved; he couldn’t understand why Astian looked perfectly unconcerned by this, and simply began performing another spell. But when the magic hit her body, and she slowly rose to her feet, he did understand. And no matter what had happened, no matter what she may had done; he was not going to let his wife’s body become nothing more than a puppet. Wiping his eyes that had become blurred with tears, Niko slowly unsheathed his swords and stormed towards Astian. When finally returning to Kvatch, it had been difficult to coax the full story from the grieving Niko; heavily injured and clutching Elisabeth’s – now still – body in his arms, he had collapsed at the gate, being brought into the chapel for healing. Although Astian had put up quite the fight, Niko had barely felt any pain at each landed blow from the disgraced mage; it was killing his wife’s resurrected body that had been the most difficult part for him. While the healer Oleta was able to mend his several cuts and burns, aided by Brother Martin, it was harder to ease the near-broken man’s mind. After the story was finally pulled from Niko, and the caves investigated, the city guards discovered that Astian had indeed been practicing Necromancy. Out of sheer respect to Niko, their comrade, they made sure to state there was nothing to incriminate Elisabeth in the forbidden act. There was no evidence in fact, but many people -particularly at the guild – would have been happy to connect the dots of her being at the caves so often. Not so long after the tragedy, Niko had fully recovered; he had taken to spending much of his time at the Chapel, hoping to find solace in the Gods. But nothing seemed to bring him peace; the daily chats with the Priests brought him some comfort, but Kvatch no longer seemed like home anymore. Mia seemed to have taken the news of her mother better than he, but then, she hadn’t seen or done what he had been forced to do – all the same, she complied when Niko suggested leaving Kvatch. He left his job with the guard, sold their home, and the lonely father and daughter left the gates of their hometown. And for nearly 2 years, they wandered throughout Cyrodiil. Never staying in one place for too long, Niko took whatever jobs that came to him as long as they paid enough, and weren’t too time-wasting or life-threatening. He was more desperate than before, but he wouldn’t risk his life while Mia was so young; she had no-one left to look after her. Of course, things became far more dangerous when he finally came back to Kvatch. A chance encounter; retrieving some rare book from the local bookstore for an old bedbound fellow in Bravil; at first, Niko was going to pass it up, not quite ready to return to Kvatch even after 2 years. But the man was offering quite a bit of money, and Mia’s birthday was approaching – it couldn’t hurt, could it? That was what he thought until the Oblivion Gate opened. It had been easy enough to gather a terrified Mia into his arms and pelt towards the chapel, but it was getting out that would be the hardest part. Spells: Destruction: Blazing Spear, Corrode Weapon, Dire Wound, Drain Skill: Destruction, Fire Ball, Frost Bolt, Great Magicka Drain, Hail Storm, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Grasp, Searing Grasp, Shocking Burst, Weakness to Magicka, Winter’s Grasp, Withering Touch Restoration: Convalescence, Cure Paralysis, Cure Poison, Fortify Health, Fortify Speed, Fortify Strength, Great Fortity Fatigue, Heal Major Wounds Illusion: Serenity, Soothing Touch, Starlight Inventory: 1x Off-white tunic, to wear under armour 2x Black Leather pants, one for casual wear, one to wear under greaves 1x Set of steel greaves 1x Set of steel pauldrons 1x Steel chestplate 1x Set of steel bracers over 1x Pair of leather gloves 2x Steel longswords 1x Steel Greatsword 1x Iron dagger 1x Dark shirt 1x Black overcoat 1x Pair of leather boots 1x Black hood 1x Spare child’s dress, red 1x Spare pair of child’s shoes Mia’s teddy bear 1x Plain gold wedding ring 1x Waterskin 1x Bottle of rum 1x Loaf of bread 2x Wedges of cheese Several slices of smoked salmon, wrapped in cheesecloth Several slices of cooked beef, wrapped in cheesecloth 3x Sweetened biscuits, slightly stale 1x Skin of milk 2x Bedrolls 1x Pillow 1x Large fur blanket 1x Tent 1x Cooking pot & Spit 1x Horse, carrying majority of the camping equipment 1x Knapsack, to carry the remainder of his things 374 Septims Mia has a balanced look of her parents; she has her mother’s dark, chocolate-brown eyes, and face and body, but the rest of her belongs to her father. Being quite tall and mature for her age, Mia also has his dark-blonde hair, hers with more of a wave to it than Niko’s; she keeps it at shoulder-length, tied up most of the time when out on the road with her dad. She also shares his sweet, dimpled smile, though hers seems far more genuine most of the time. While certainly taking after her Imperial mother in her looks, Mia has the heart of a Nord. With an inquisitive sense of adventure constantly on her mind, the curious 8-year-old (She’s nearly 9, actually – don’t forget it!) has a penchant for wandering away from her father when visiting cities; but only in cities. She did it once in a tiny little village without walls and she’d never seen him look so upset when he found her 3 hours later. She understands his protectiveness, but taking a rather wise standpoint for such a young age, thinks her Father needs to move on from what happened. She knows this isn’t the way her Mama wanted them both to live, after all. Perhaps due to her father treating her like some fragile thing, Mia often takes on a brusque and boisterous way of life. Local kid calling her names? He’s getting a broken nose. A pair of dubious looking fellows in the inn staring at her father’s coinpurse? Glare at them until they notice and hurriedly leave. Portal to hell opening up in the city? Her Papa will sort them out, he’s the bravest, strongest man in the whole wide world. She’s going to help of course – if only Papa would give her a sword. Ooh, or maybe an axe.

The caravan made its way through the winding wood at a slow pace, the single wagon and two packs horses moving at a speed that was easy for the various guards to match. A few of the guards were old hands, four of them all knew each other well and had worked with the merchants covering this route before. However this time the merchants had seen fit to bring on some extra hands. As the group had travelled the road they'd come across a number of strangers, each wandering the same long road. Out of practicality they'd decided to travel together, there being greater safety in numbers especially under the dark eaves of the forest that hung low over the road. They hadn't talked much but after several hours of long travel it was time to stop for lunch. The caravan master brought the wagon to the side of the road alongside a small clearing and the merchants set about tying up the horses, as the guards settled down here and there to eat whatever rations they had.

Name: Mzark Fireheart Race: Dragonborn Gender: Male Age: 7 Class: Paladin Equipment: Mithril: Longsword, Shield, and battle plate Simple Rations (typically bread and some fish, and a flask full of fire whiskey) A flask of water Symbol of Bahamut Bio: Mzark may seem young by human standards but whilst only 7 years old he's already as developed and astute as a human 20 year old. As a boy his parents forced him to study hard, joining the local shrine of Bahamut as an inmate when he was 3. He has studied and learnt much at the shrine, but he is no idle priest, he learnt to wield a blade and was the shrines protector alongside his master. At least until he was sent at the age of 5 on a pilgrimage to search for an ancient lexicon removed from the shrine long ago. Since that time Mzark has wondered the world, for 2 years he has travelled the world and he is still no closer to his prize. In this time he has learnt much of the world beyond his village, and he has earned himself a fair number of friends and a great deal of gratitude in this time. However, he has also made himself a few enemies in the process. Personality: Mzark is extremely pious and extremely honourable, Dragonborn and Paladins are this way by nature, one need only think what a combination of the two is like. Loyal, honest, ernest and protective, Mzark is usually quite upfront in his dealings with others.

Icarus is jostled out of his focus on the book he was reading by the stopping of the cart he was riding on. Removing the hood of his cloak and staring up at the sky he could estimate that it was around mid-day and assuming from the relaxed attitude of the caravan guards settling down he assumed it was time for a break. With a soft thud Icarus hopped down from the cart, and patted his side for his satchel. There was always a calming feeling to feel the pouch that he knew held his leather bound treasures. Swaying his head around Icarus scanned the area that the caravan had chosen to stop. He had no immediate quarrel with the location as it seemed peaceful enough, especially because he noticed no immediate spirits flitting about. His brow darkened at the thought; it wasn't often these days, now that his powers and sensitivity regarding the other realm had grown, that he wasn't troubled by the wailing and moaning of those unfortunate enough to be tied to this earth even after death. Sometimes they were even coherent enough through their own rage and anguish that they were able to perceive that Icarus actually noticed them, not just the goosebumps that they sometimes gave to those more attune to the dead, nor just the pots and pans the more troublesome spirits tended to rattle; but their actual forms. Pleading is all the ever did to him, beg him to be an absolutist, a messenger, a tool for vengeance all for deeds years, decades, sometimes even centuries past. There was nothing he could do for them.. for now at least.. Shaking off these dark thoughts to try and enjoy this reprieve he marked his place in the book he was reading, closed it and decided to figure out where this caravan was headed, there was bound to be someone that could point him in the right direction for a library, academy, or some other source of knowledge that he could delve into it for his research. Identifying the group of veteran guards based upon their air of authority and familiarity with the routine, Icarus exhaled a deep breath and made is way over to where they ate. "Hello, ugh.. companions! *Clears throat* "Thank you for your company on this trip, but I was wondering what our next destination would be down this path? I don't have much traveling experience and do not know much about the path we are currently traveling."

Name: Icarus Shadesong Race: Dwarf Physical Description: Like your typical dwarf he is quite stocky with broad thick shoulders that have been finely toned from many hard years of working in his fathers forge. His beard his far too short to be braided like most dwarfs and is actually groomed quite close to his face; this being due to safety hazards within the forge(Icarus learned at quite a young age how flammable hair can be). His hair was almost a fine blondish white, quite rare among dwarves, yet the ash and smoke from in the forge has seemed to almost permanently left a layer of soot turning his almost oddly bleached looking hair into a dirty blonde. His eye's are a mix between blue and green and always had a look of inquisitiveness in them, a trait he was told he had received from his mother, a wandering healer. Forging no only requires a steady hand but perfect posture, which has given him the habit of having an almost rigidly stiff back, thus giving him the appearance of being taller than he actually is(despite being only average height for a dwarf). This rigid way of walking contrast with the loose and inquisitive nature he carries himself with. Gender: Male Age: 24 (Very young for a dwarf!) Class: Healer(With a mix of Divination/Conjuration in there) Equipment: -A large and sturdy two handed forging hammer, used for hammering down thick blocks of metal to flat sheets fast. A little unwieldy in combat since it really isn't made for that purpose, but can pack quite a punch due to its weight. -Very small craftsman hammer used on small tool working -Leather smith's gear that provides decent protection from whether elements -White traveling cloak with family crest emblazoned on the back -Backpack of supplies like rations, water, small knife, pair of tongs, rope, blanket, and flint + steel. Bio: Born into a small darven mountain mining clan, his father was one of the few local smithies and his mother was a wandering healer who seemed to work wonders even with little amounts of herbs or potions at her disposal and sometimes was seen talking to what only looked like an empty room of shadows. Her mother had a brief romance with his father, Gruve Stromschlag, and only stayed long enough to give birth to Icarus and then suddenly vanished. She left behind a pile of books with a single note saying: "To my son, the only gift I am able to give you." Icarus spent years in his father's forge repairing much of the local's tools and learning to be quite an adept craftsman, and when he became old enough to read in his spare time gorged himself on the various books his mother had left him. The books were mainly on healing, but occasionally he read one on spirituality and on magical rituals. Icarus used this mew knowledge to assist miners that had been injured during their work in the more dangerous parts of the caverns. Yet he noticed when helping people he could see strange white lights surround those more grievously injured, and on even more rare occasions, voices coming from recently deceased bodies. His clan was a superstitious one; so he kept these events to himself. As time passed and he grew older, these events occurred more often. Once during a sickness outbreak where he was treating a local baker had become so ill his death became inevitable; Icarus saw the white light began floating off the man and almost felt a connection to it. yet he felt a sense of longing from it, a sense of desperation and as if almost by instinct Icarus willed it to remain connected to the body. Icarus felt himself being drained from this "connection" to the light but saw improvement in the man so he continued. The next day, after Icarus had passed out after a few hours of this exertion the man woke up; fully recovered. It was like a miracle, but Icarus did not speak of what he had done for he had a sinking feeling about what it was. Necromancy. Icarus realized what the stories of his mother and her strange talks with shadows and miracle healings were. She was a necromancer, but weren't they supposed to be evil? All she had done.. was help people? Maybe.. just maybe necromancers weren't.. necessarily evil? With this revelation Icarus was frightened, but endeavored to test his new found powers in secret; he began to listen to the voices near the graveyards and hear their moans, he tried to heal his own wounds and scratches from the forge without anything but this "energy", and as he experimented his powers grew. One morning a massive cave in several miners were killed. The clan gathered to mourn their dead and has Icarus arrived he noticed one spirit standing near his wife who was wailing over his body. Without thinking and so distraught by this woman's wails Icarus used his new powers to make the spirit visible to her. She stopped suddenly as the spirit of her dead husband held her for one last time and then with a shimmer disappeared. The clan was shocked by this display of power and immediately turned against Icarus. Only due to his long time of healing their injured did they allow him to gather some of his supplies before being exiled. His own father now looked at him with disgust as he gathered his things. Icarus gathered some tools and one of his mother's cloaks that she had wrapped up the books she left for him and set off into the world. He changed his clan name to shadesong after the stories of his mother talking to shadows, and donned the cloak that had the crest of a phoenix embroidered on the back. Icarus now wanders from town to town doing handy work or healing in exchange for lodging or food and is always in search of a good library to further his studies in his arts over death. Icarus hopes to find his mother and one day found a school for white necromancers that use their influence over life and death for good. Personality: Icarus us incredibly studious and loves to get his hands on any books, bits of lore, or artifacts he can find. He is a bit wary of talking about his past and abilities due to his foul treatment from those he loves, but deep down is incredibly friendly, loyal, and appreciative of those that can look past his abilities to who he really is. He can get caught up in seeing all the spirits and emotions of those around him or just in one of his newest books so he is considered a bit of a spacey person that gets distracted easily.

A soft giggle trickled through the forest, like a jingling bell. Another joined in soon after. The cheerful sounds belonged to two beautiful young females, or so they appeared. The sunlight trickled through the trees, radiating off their fair skin as they stood in a clearing, huddled and giggling as they watched a playful satyr dance and play his pipes. They whispered to each other, and giggled some more. Nymphs and satyrs had a famous history. Both were known for their promiscuous nature and their love of the forest. Nymphs where known to lead traveling men astray, use them for their desires, and then leave them lost in the forest. Satyrs were known for their tricks. Either way, neither of the two spirits meant well for a band traveling through the wood. As the satyr's lively song came to an end, he flitted in front of the two female, bowing low and earning himself more giggles. "I'm glad you find me entertaining my dears," He said with a grin. "Perhaps, if you aren't bored of me, we could go back to my hutch." The two looked at each other, and more whispers were exchanged. The satyr's long ears perked up, trying to listen in. Finally, one of the nymphs turned to him. "We were on our way to see the caravan. Our sisters told us of a few handsome men traveling through." "A caravan?" The satyr straightened up. "No one told me we had visitors." A mischievous grin crossed his face, a twinkle in his eye. "Well, let's go greet them, shall we?" Eager to show off his tricks, the satyr turned and bounded off into the woods towards the dirt road that ran through it. The nymphs flitted behind him, wanting to watch the show. Nimble hooves came to a quick stop on a rocky outlook, peering down at the road and the party that was stopped for lunch. The satyr hunched down as he spied on them, his tail flicking as he thought of all the fun things he could do with newcomers. None were too malicious, but the trickster couldn't help himself. It was in his blood. "I'll make them sleep," He said quietly, to himself and to the nymphs that lingered in the trees behind him. "And we can put squirrels in their trousers and watch them dance as they wake up." He grinned. "Such a silly goat," One of the female commented, laughing at his idea. "Silly?" The satyr questioned. "Me? Why, never." He grinned and turned back to the road, vanishing beyond the rocks in the blink of an eye. In seconds, he was near the road, slinking just within the trees. He whipped out his pipes and began to play a slow song, enchanted with the pipes' magic. As the travelers seem to settle, he took a chance and revealed himself, wandering out into the caravan to get close enough to make the members slip into a slumber.

Name: Rowan Blackhoof of Nowhere in Particular Age: 25 Gender: Male pecies: Satyr Classes: Bard Equipment: Possesses an enchanted pan flute. When played, all who listen are at ease. If played close enough, it can lull a person to sleep. He carries a bow and arrow with him for safety. While he rarely uses it for violence, he practices with it quite often. Personality: Rowan is a gentle creature, as far as satyrs go. His species is known for being trickers and theives, attacking those who travel through their forests and kidnapping young women from villages for their own brutish sport. Of course, in actuality, it's a fairly small part of the population that do these things, but they give the whole species a bad name. He's peaceful, not caring too much for the wars that pop up between other species. You'd have to twist his arm to get him to give a rat's ass about politics. Rowan would rather spend the day roaming the forest, picking on the occasional traveler, eating berries, and flirting with the wood nymphs. Other: Rowan is a vegetarian. Although he has more human traits than goat, sometimes Rowan will be plagued by the urge to just mindlessly chew on something. Since bubblegum probably doesn't exist in this world, he's found all sorts of creative solutions: sticks, blocks of wood, rubber, or really just about anything. He quite talented at playing the pan flute. He enjoys visitors, as long as they come peacefully. He is a very good climber. His balance is impeccable. Although not quite as promiscuous as most satyrs are known to be, Rowan isn't likely to turn down a good offer. Appearance: Rowan is a full blooded satyr. His human half has olive skin and curly, reddish brown hair. He has a bit more hair than your typical man, his arms sporting shaggy, almost furlike growth near his elbows. His form is muscular, particularly his arms. He was cursed with a boyish face, which he hides under a trimmed beard and mustache. His goofy, floppy goat ears don't help. He's rather big, standing at nearly 6'1". The horns on his head curl backwards and are very strong. His goat half is that of a tahr, with long, brown fur and smaller hooves. He's very nimble on his feet, faster than a human, and able to climb and balance uncannily well. As for clothing, Rowan often goes without. With his bottom half so heavily furred, he doesn't really have anything to hide. If he's attending a more proper occasion, he has a couple tunics to pick from in various colors. History: When Rowan was a young kid, he lived with his clan in the forests outside of a human village. The two communities lived in tense harmony, not fighting but not particularly enjoying the company. Rowan was always told to keep away from the human village, but curiosity drew him to it. When he was a teenager, he finally crossed the line and ventured into the humans' civilization to see just what they were all about. When his clan found out, they weren't happy. When Rowan refused their orders to cease and desist, they banished him from their midst. He tried to tell himself that he was better off without them, and moved on. The satyr began his travels, all across the lands. He was taught many different skills from all sorts of creatures: music with elves, baking with dwarfs, drinking with orcs, and, most importantly, archery with centaurs. In recent years, Rowan has settled down a bit. He's getting to the point in his life were he wants stability. He's spent the last year or so building himself an impressive treehouse home, with gardens of fruit and vegetables to suitable itself. Since he doesn't eat meat, he never has to worry about hunting. Although, he will occasionally brave the city to purchase goods, with his bow and arrow to protect himself.

... and me brother, Thrandon, 'e's the Crown Prince, ain't 'e? Got all a Dwarf could want, I warrant yer. Power, wealth, Dwarfettes - 'e's father's favourite son, and the first born, obviously, Thranok rattled coarsley, pausing briefly to take another clumsy bite from the meat pie he held with both hands. "So where that be leavin' me, eh? Why, it be leavin' me free to do what I want. I got me four brothers that gotta die first before I need ta worry 'bout any bloomin' crown, aye?" The guard, a human of middle years, nodded silently for the hundredth time in the last two hours of travel. He'd hopped to escape Thranok's constant prattling when the caravan stopped, but found that the Dwarf had taken an apparent liking to him. "I er, I best go and check on the horses," came the first excuse to reach the guard's mind. "It's been a pleasure, Thranok." Thranok's brow furrowed, and he seemed genuinely upset that his talking companion was bidding him farewell - albeit temporarily - but managed a nod and a sigh. "Righty'o then, lad, be seein' yer." Perched upon the stump of a fallen tree, the Dwarven Prince looked out across the resting caravan, taking in the sight of so many people, all of whom had their own stories, and most of whom came from varying backgrounds. This was proper adventuring, he reasoned, out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers, all bound by mutual interest. Something stirred from the tree line nearby, and Thranok ignored it, choosing instead to sink his teeth into the meat pie. But then, there was music, an eerie music that at first calmed the Prince, but soon brought terror to him as his eyes started to close. This wasn't the first time he'd come up against such trickery. Jumping from the stump in a rattle of mail, he threw his pie to the wind, and grabbed his bronze axe; the head shining brilliantly in the midday sun. "Don't be listenin' to that nonsense, lads!" He called out across the caravan. "It's a bloomin' song from the accursed; it'll send yer to sleep so that the bastard playin' it can slit our throats 'n take our stuff!" The Prince looked left, then right, scanning the trees. A rush of exhaustion pulsed through him, making the axe weigh six times more than it usually did. A few of the guards, and half a dozen of the merchant staff fell to the floor despite their best efforts. If Thranok didn't act fast, he was going to join them, and it would be all over. His eyes narrowed on something, a shape emerging from the tree line. Hefting his axe, he ran forwards, his stubby legs pounding the grass; his lungs ballooning with exertion as they fought to supply his sleep-addled brain with enough oxygen to carry him forwards. Forty yards, thirty yards, twenty yards, ten yards - and then he was almost face to face with it. "A Satyr? Shoulda bloomin' known," Thranok muttered at the creature through barred teeth, "I think it be yer who'll be doin' the sleepin', aye?" The wearied Prince raised his axe, and lunged at the Satyr with an overhead swing.

Prince Thranok Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold Physical Description: Thranok is nearly as wide as he is tall; a mountainous mass of fat and muscle. Standing at four and a half feet, and smothered in copious amounts of gleaming mails, he looks like your ordinary perception of a Dwarf warrior. Shoulder length blonde hair, and a well kept neck length beard surround what looks to be an almost permanent scorn. Race: Dwarf Gender: Male Age: 163 Class: Fighter Equipment: Double headed bronze battle axe Bronze Short Sword Tower Shield (Hooked over his backpack) Backpack, containing generic travelling goods (food + water etc) Bio: Thranok, son of Mountain Lord Thranix Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold, and sixth in line to the Gemstone Throne. Sounds a mighty title, doesn't it? Alas, being sixth in line to the throne, and possessing five older brothers, means that it is unlikely that Thranok will ever achieve much greatness beyond performing his duties as a royal dignitary. Not that it would be a hard life mind, and one could certainly do worse - but for some of us, a cushioned and sheltered life free of strife and struggle is a life not worth living. Thranok is of such mind, and that's why he has formally resigned his post - against his father's wishes - and set forth into the world with nothing but his axe and a few decades of combat training to his name. He's a hardy warrior in theory, who has proven himself on the training grounds, but who has not fought that many real enemies. A few goblins met their demise at the wrong end of his axe, that's a given, but beyond this? No. Thranok is a mighty hero in the making, not a mighty hero stalking the world. His future may bring greatness and glory, or it may be a rather short lived tale of misguided ambition and undeserved arrogance. Time will tell. Personality: Thranok is an arrogant, overly confident warrior full of boasts. His tales are long and usually untrue, but he is always prepared to back up his bravado with real action. He's the brave amateur that all began as, and the keen idealist that no one ends up as. For Thranok, honour is everything - for now at least.

The dirt road made no sound under Taluin's soft yet sure-footed steps as he slowly crossed it, from one side of foliage to the other. His eyes peered ahead for a few moments, taking in the sight of the empty road, before they scanned the tree line and beyond. He was no stranger to being assigned the role of scout, especially when he was one of few with elven blood traveling through a wooded area. He never disclosed that he had not been raised in the green, as none really asked, but he had the same abilities and sensibilities his woodland brothers had. He merely lacked the familiarity with the area and plant-life. He was still agile and perceptive enough to fill the role adequately. He raised his honey-colored gaze to the sky, knowing that the caravan was stopping sometime around high-sun for a midday break, and sighed. He was not tired, would not tire before the day was out, and would rather push on, but the decision was not his to make. His head swiveled around first, to look backwards, even though he knew he was too far to see the caravan. Staying in the tree line, he double-backed, his steps as silent in the trees as they were on the road. Taluin had not strayed so far ahead that the caravan could come to any danger on the road in the gap between them, and he and some of the other guards had worked out a flare system to alert him if something happened while he was ahead (the same, of course, was communicated to any rear guard of the caravan as well, had any been appointed). Because it took him some time to return he realized they had stopped before he had turned back. The caravan came into his view eventually, and he could see it from far off, but he also noticed the lack of movement that usually came along with it. He paused, viewing the clearing from his spot in the forest through trees and leaves aplenty. It made him uneasy to not see at least one of their guards milling about the perimeter. No flare had alerted him. He wondered briefly if they were just all huddled over something particularly interesting, but he knew these men, not in a personal but a professional sense, and that even if that were true there would still be at least one guard in sight. They hired him because he was efficient (and cheap, but he knew he had more to offer than that), and they were not the kind to open themselves to attack just because their guards saw something shiny. They were too experienced. Slim fingers caressed the hilt of Tal's longsword. He did not want to approach too hastily. He knew not how far any hostile force had gotten on his side of the road, but he also didn't know if there was any hostile force at all. His first idea was just to approach the caravan through the forest, but he didn't know if said hostile force had come from the forest. With a grimace, he decided on staying on the edge of the road. This way, he wasn't out in the open, but not deep in the forest where he could be easily ambushed. There was no perfectly safe option. His hand dropped from his sword and he moved forward without a sound. Once set on his approach he moved quickly. The sight of the caravan was not what he expected. He could soon make out the details of the camp, and the figures inside of it from his spot in the trees. He realized was what going on relatively quickly once he saw the horned figure shrouded in flora on the other side. Taluin had spent most of his days on hire as something, a scout, a guard, a thief, and almost all of that time was spent on the road in some way. He had traveled wooded areas countless times and was no stranger to those who called it home. Satyrs were an annoying sort. Their only purpose was to cause problems and delays for those traveling through their domain. When Tal got his way in dealing with the things in the past, he chose to do so by driving them away with a threat of force before they became a true nuisance. The creatures weren't evil, but they lacked respect for anything other than their own amusement. He’d rather scare them off than have to deal with their childish pranks. Most satyrs, as he figured this one would, would move on relatively quickly once they realized their antics were not humored by the victims. The elf was actually impressed the satyr managed to catch such a large group in his song, but he was a fool to reveal himself before the targets were completely asleep. There were too many people in the caravan for one satyr to be powerful enough to fight against all of their wills at once, especially when there was both a spellcaster and several dwarves in their midst (or, at least, it would be both unlikely and unlucky to find one who was). Maybe if he wasn't alone he could have kept control over them, but no ally appeared to help him sing his song. Offhand, Taluin know of at least ten bodies in the camp. And that was only the guards he knew, the two merchants he knew of, and the few other travelers who had also joined the caravan. Having realized where their newfound drowsiness had stemmed from, the members of the caravan would surely become much harder to enchant, and then the sheer larger number of them would swing things in their favor. He was going to approach things more calmly, until he got close enough to catch the sight of own of their dwarf flinging himself at the goat once he emerged from the tree line. Tal stifled a laugh, his mouth cocking to the side for a moment. The dwarf’s aim, at least from the elf’s distance, looked true, and Tal would be surely impressed if the animal could keep up his song after that. Still, he walked toward the clearing, grabbing a rock the size of his fist and tossing it up and down a few times as he went. He didn’t get too close to the satyr, and started singing a song under his own breath, not wanting to hear the creature’s song as more than a muffled melody under his own. He looked again to see the outcome of the dwarf’s strike.

Name: Taluin Filvendor Gender: Male Age: 270s Class: Rogue Race: Elf Physical Description: Tal's build and body are quite the norm for his race; he is tall and lithe with angular features. Dark brown hair falls to his shoulders in loose locks, and honey colored eyes poke out from underneath his bangs. Alabastor skin covers his toned body, marred only by the occasional scar, such as the one that reaches from his right chin to cheek. He dresses in either his armor or simple clothing, and is almost always carrying his weapons and pack. Equipment: -Leather armor -Simple Longsword w/ Sheathe -Dirk w/ Sheathe (pictured in appearance reference) -Rations -Waterskin -Bedroll -Sharpening stone, cloth, and oil -Skinning knife -Cooking pot -Extra small clothes/ x1 Set of simple clothing -Limited personal First Aid supplies Personality: A stern individual, Tal is not known for his warmth or compassion. He is a very reserved man, as having spent much of his time both for hire and on the road has prevented him from forming really long lasting connections. Intelligent, discerning, and prescriptive, Tal is adept at reading a situation and acting accordingly. Generally, he is mild mannered and cautious, but he is approachable, as those traits don't make him less inclined to pleasant conversation than others. Bio: Taluin's early memories are of an orphanage deep inside the City of Spires, Dary. Tal was a curious child who often went exploring outside. Eventually, after many attempts to bring him in and keep him failed, the orphanage staff soon gave up on keeping him inside. He grew up in the orphanage but he never lived there for more than a few days at a time after he reached a certain age. He did jobs around the city for different cartels and guilds, giving himself a reputation as a promising youth. He had never lived in an easy place; the orphanage and the city streets both held their own horrors, and Tal learned the harsh truths of vagrant life at an early age. During his childhood, there was one guild above all others in the city: The Rothen Guild. Named after its brutal, legendary founder of ages ago, the Rothen Guild boasted a force superior in finesse, ability, and honor to many other major factions. In a city near to two large castles known to belong to forces of vampire masters, such a claim was often tested. The guild had a reputation of being above petty murder, and only took on jobs that came from exceptional clients or the city itself. Taluin aspired to be one of the infamous Rothen Riders ever since he had known who they were. He got his chance around the age of 14, when, after he had done a few small things for one of the senior members of the guild, he was offered a chance to join them on a mission they believed he could assist them with. When they were successful, he was offered a place among them. However, he one of many young minds they took in at that age. After making him believe it was what he wanted, they put him through vigorous training and discipline. He grew reliant on the guild, believing their story of how they were all a giant family who looked out for each other, and like most did not see where this indoctrination was heading. After decades as a member of the guild, he and others discovered the plots of the heads of the guild. The Rothen Guild had once been what it claimed, but had, before Tal had become an apprentice, been infested with the undead servants of the vampire queen from the east. They were slowly working to spread the disease in the guild's ranks to unleash it on the city. In a blaze of passionate speeches, angry battles, and turning alliances, the Rothen Guild was destroyed in a battle between its last sane members and those already turned against them. Citizens of Dary believe that the guild fell to politics when a new leader came to the head of the faction, but in reality the loss of members was so great that after the whole fiasco was over those who remained just called it quits. Tal, among them, eventually moved on from the city he had called home for more than 50 years, and left to pursue his own life. He has spent his time wander thus far, seeing places he had never visited before.

As Icarus finished his question to the men he looked down at them and with a quick startle realized they were all asleep. "But.. I could have sworn they were awa-" he stopped as his words became slurred and after a moment noticed a soothing song being played throughout their camp "A bard? I didn't know we had one of those.. How lovely.." he thought as he turned around to find the source of the enchanting tune. Head swimming Icarus tried to focus and scan the camp for the player of such sweet melodies, but to no avail, the drowsiness seemed apt to overtake him soon as he muttered "Well a nap couldn't hurt.." and he had just noticed that he had already fallen to his knees on the beaten dirt path beneath him. Eyelids fluttering his head began to roll forward until a shout and seeing stout man, what he realized must be a dwarf but was too hard to tell through the heavy half closing of his eyes, running axe raised toward a lone goat like figure that had emerged from the tree line. "Oh my, I believe that is.. is.. a satyr.. quite the tricksters I've read.." he mumbled lazily to no one in particular as he know rested on his haunches staring at the peculiar scene. With his body feeling many times his normal weight, and head fixed toward the only thing holding his attention long enough to slip into the sweet lulling embrace of sleep, Icarus is only able to halfheartedly watch the events between the mad shouting dwarf and the satyr and wonder whether they are the silly hallucinations of those long overdue for rest.

Name: Icarus Shadesong Race: Dwarf Physical Description: Like your typical dwarf he is quite stocky with broad thick shoulders that have been finely toned from many hard years of working in his fathers forge. His beard his far too short to be braided like most dwarfs and is actually groomed quite close to his face; this being due to safety hazards within the forge(Icarus learned at quite a young age how flammable hair can be). His hair was almost a fine blondish white, quite rare among dwarves, yet the ash and smoke from in the forge has seemed to almost permanently left a layer of soot turning his almost oddly bleached looking hair into a dirty blonde. His eye's are a mix between blue and green and always had a look of inquisitiveness in them, a trait he was told he had received from his mother, a wandering healer. Forging no only requires a steady hand but perfect posture, which has given him the habit of having an almost rigidly stiff back, thus giving him the appearance of being taller than he actually is(despite being only average height for a dwarf). This rigid way of walking contrast with the loose and inquisitive nature he carries himself with. Gender: Male Age: 24 (Very young for a dwarf!) Class: Healer(With a mix of Divination/Conjuration in there) Equipment: -A large and sturdy two handed forging hammer, used for hammering down thick blocks of metal to flat sheets fast. A little unwieldy in combat since it really isn't made for that purpose, but can pack quite a punch due to its weight. -Very small craftsman hammer used on small tool working -Leather smith's gear that provides decent protection from whether elements -White traveling cloak with family crest emblazoned on the back -Backpack of supplies like rations, water, small knife, pair of tongs, rope, blanket, and flint + steel. Bio: Born into a small darven mountain mining clan, his father was one of the few local smithies and his mother was a wandering healer who seemed to work wonders even with little amounts of herbs or potions at her disposal and sometimes was seen talking to what only looked like an empty room of shadows. Her mother had a brief romance with his father, Gruve Stromschlag, and only stayed long enough to give birth to Icarus and then suddenly vanished. She left behind a pile of books with a single note saying: "To my son, the only gift I am able to give you." Icarus spent years in his father's forge repairing much of the local's tools and learning to be quite an adept craftsman, and when he became old enough to read in his spare time gorged himself on the various books his mother had left him. The books were mainly on healing, but occasionally he read one on spirituality and on magical rituals. Icarus used this mew knowledge to assist miners that had been injured during their work in the more dangerous parts of the caverns. Yet he noticed when helping people he could see strange white lights surround those more grievously injured, and on even more rare occasions, voices coming from recently deceased bodies. His clan was a superstitious one; so he kept these events to himself. As time passed and he grew older, these events occurred more often. Once during a sickness outbreak where he was treating a local baker had become so ill his death became inevitable; Icarus saw the white light began floating off the man and almost felt a connection to it. yet he felt a sense of longing from it, a sense of desperation and as if almost by instinct Icarus willed it to remain connected to the body. Icarus felt himself being drained from this "connection" to the light but saw improvement in the man so he continued. The next day, after Icarus had passed out after a few hours of this exertion the man woke up; fully recovered. It was like a miracle, but Icarus did not speak of what he had done for he had a sinking feeling about what it was. Necromancy. Icarus realized what the stories of his mother and her strange talks with shadows and miracle healings were. She was a necromancer, but weren't they supposed to be evil? All she had done.. was help people? Maybe.. just maybe necromancers weren't.. necessarily evil? With this revelation Icarus was frightened, but endeavored to test his new found powers in secret; he began to listen to the voices near the graveyards and hear their moans, he tried to heal his own wounds and scratches from the forge without anything but this "energy", and as he experimented his powers grew. One morning a massive cave in several miners were killed. The clan gathered to mourn their dead and has Icarus arrived he noticed one spirit standing near his wife who was wailing over his body. Without thinking and so distraught by this woman's wails Icarus used his new powers to make the spirit visible to her. She stopped suddenly as the spirit of her dead husband held her for one last time and then with a shimmer disappeared. The clan was shocked by this display of power and immediately turned against Icarus. Only due to his long time of healing their injured did they allow him to gather some of his supplies before being exiled. His own father now looked at him with disgust as he gathered his things. Icarus gathered some tools and one of his mother's cloaks that she had wrapped up the books she left for him and set off into the world. He changed his clan name to shadesong after the stories of his mother talking to shadows, and donned the cloak that had the crest of a phoenix embroidered on the back. Icarus now wanders from town to town doing handy work or healing in exchange for lodging or food and is always in search of a good library to further his studies in his arts over death. Icarus hopes to find his mother and one day found a school for white necromancers that use their influence over life and death for good. Personality: Icarus us incredibly studious and loves to get his hands on any books, bits of lore, or artifacts he can find. He is a bit wary of talking about his past and abilities due to his foul treatment from those he loves, but deep down is incredibly friendly, loyal, and appreciative of those that can look past his abilities to who he really is. He can get caught up in seeing all the spirits and emotions of those around him or just in one of his newest books so he is considered a bit of a spacey person that gets distracted easily.

The beast was quick, his hooves nimble and true. He saw the oncoming dwarf and flitted away from his blow before the stumpy man was even close. The satyr seemed to find amusement in this, ever eager to show off in front of the wood nymphs. The bold creature grabbed a blanket and waved it around in front of himself, imitating a bull fighter. He laughed and gave a few more notes on his pipes before dodging the next inevitable attack. His speed was impressive if nothing else. The satyr leaped onto the top of a cart and danced mockingly, his hooves clacking on the wood. The beast seemed to be enjoying himself. But as he danced, he slipped up by playing a faster tune on his pipes. Those around him began to wake without his notice.

Name: Rowan Blackhoof of Nowhere in Particular Age: 25 Gender: Male pecies: Satyr Classes: Bard Equipment: Possesses an enchanted pan flute. When played, all who listen are at ease. If played close enough, it can lull a person to sleep. He carries a bow and arrow with him for safety. While he rarely uses it for violence, he practices with it quite often. Personality: Rowan is a gentle creature, as far as satyrs go. His species is known for being trickers and theives, attacking those who travel through their forests and kidnapping young women from villages for their own brutish sport. Of course, in actuality, it's a fairly small part of the population that do these things, but they give the whole species a bad name. He's peaceful, not caring too much for the wars that pop up between other species. You'd have to twist his arm to get him to give a rat's ass about politics. Rowan would rather spend the day roaming the forest, picking on the occasional traveler, eating berries, and flirting with the wood nymphs. Other: Rowan is a vegetarian. Although he has more human traits than goat, sometimes Rowan will be plagued by the urge to just mindlessly chew on something. Since bubblegum probably doesn't exist in this world, he's found all sorts of creative solutions: sticks, blocks of wood, rubber, or really just about anything. He quite talented at playing the pan flute. He enjoys visitors, as long as they come peacefully. He is a very good climber. His balance is impeccable. Although not quite as promiscuous as most satyrs are known to be, Rowan isn't likely to turn down a good offer. Appearance: Rowan is a full blooded satyr. His human half has olive skin and curly, reddish brown hair. He has a bit more hair than your typical man, his arms sporting shaggy, almost furlike growth near his elbows. His form is muscular, particularly his arms. He was cursed with a boyish face, which he hides under a trimmed beard and mustache. His goofy, floppy goat ears don't help. He's rather big, standing at nearly 6'1". The horns on his head curl backwards and are very strong. His goat half is that of a tahr, with long, brown fur and smaller hooves. He's very nimble on his feet, faster than a human, and able to climb and balance uncannily well. As for clothing, Rowan often goes without. With his bottom half so heavily furred, he doesn't really have anything to hide. If he's attending a more proper occasion, he has a couple tunics to pick from in various colors. History: When Rowan was a young kid, he lived with his clan in the forests outside of a human village. The two communities lived in tense harmony, not fighting but not particularly enjoying the company. Rowan was always told to keep away from the human village, but curiosity drew him to it. When he was a teenager, he finally crossed the line and ventured into the humans' civilization to see just what they were all about. When his clan found out, they weren't happy. When Rowan refused their orders to cease and desist, they banished him from their midst. He tried to tell himself that he was better off without them, and moved on. The satyr began his travels, all across the lands. He was taught many different skills from all sorts of creatures: music with elves, baking with dwarfs, drinking with orcs, and, most importantly, archery with centaurs. In recent years, Rowan has settled down a bit. He's getting to the point in his life were he wants stability. He's spent the last year or so building himself an impressive treehouse home, with gardens of fruit and vegetables to suitable itself. Since he doesn't eat meat, he never has to worry about hunting. Although, he will occasionally brave the city to purchase goods, with his bow and arrow to protect himself.

Mzark continued walking along the forest road, shield firmly secured in his left hand, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His battle plate clinked loudly as he walked, at leat it seemed loud against the utter silence of the forest. Disliking the silence Mzark began to recite a mantra aloud as he walked. 'My sword is strong, my sword is true, with it I might run you through…' he smiled to himself as he sang. It certainly wasn't a traditional mantra by any means, something he'd picked up when protecting a river caravan, the sailors had sang the whole way… well when they weren't drinking at any rate. Mzark kept walking chanting as he was went. That's when he spotted a pair of horses and a caravan in the distance, it appeared that a figure was cavorting atop the caravan. That was when he noticed several other figures seemingly in various states of delirium, he gripped the handle of sword tighter as he approached and called out to the figure atop the caravan. 'Greetings friend, might ask what has rendered you so merry this day?' he inquired, his booming baritone of a voice sounding clearly even over the music the figure was playing. As he appraised the figure Mzark noticed that the figure wasn't a man as he once thought, instead he had the legs of a goat, something which struck Mzark as rather odd.

Name: Mzark Fireheart Race: Dragonborn Gender: Male Age: 7 Class: Paladin Equipment: Mithril: Longsword, Shield, and battle plate Simple Rations (typically bread and some fish, and a flask full of fire whiskey) A flask of water Symbol of Bahamut Bio: Mzark may seem young by human standards but whilst only 7 years old he's already as developed and astute as a human 20 year old. As a boy his parents forced him to study hard, joining the local shrine of Bahamut as an inmate when he was 3. He has studied and learnt much at the shrine, but he is no idle priest, he learnt to wield a blade and was the shrines protector alongside his master. At least until he was sent at the age of 5 on a pilgrimage to search for an ancient lexicon removed from the shrine long ago. Since that time Mzark has wondered the world, for 2 years he has travelled the world and he is still no closer to his prize. In this time he has learnt much of the world beyond his village, and he has earned himself a fair number of friends and a great deal of gratitude in this time. However, he has also made himself a few enemies in the process. Personality: Mzark is extremely pious and extremely honourable, Dragonborn and Paladins are this way by nature, one need only think what a combination of the two is like. Loyal, honest, ernest and protective, Mzark is usually quite upfront in his dealings with others.

A merry time with friends, the goat laughed, "and maybe a little brew." He stopped dancing to eye the scaley creature who spoke to him. The satyr had never seen such a beast before. "May I ask where you hail from, friend?" He said, hopping down from the cart. His ears perked up in a comical manner as he tilted his head.

Name: Rowan Blackhoof of Nowhere in Particular Age: 25 Gender: Male pecies: Satyr Classes: Bard Equipment: Possesses an enchanted pan flute. When played, all who listen are at ease. If played close enough, it can lull a person to sleep. He carries a bow and arrow with him for safety. While he rarely uses it for violence, he practices with it quite often. Personality: Rowan is a gentle creature, as far as satyrs go. His species is known for being trickers and theives, attacking those who travel through their forests and kidnapping young women from villages for their own brutish sport. Of course, in actuality, it's a fairly small part of the population that do these things, but they give the whole species a bad name. He's peaceful, not caring too much for the wars that pop up between other species. You'd have to twist his arm to get him to give a rat's ass about politics. Rowan would rather spend the day roaming the forest, picking on the occasional traveler, eating berries, and flirting with the wood nymphs. Other: Rowan is a vegetarian. Although he has more human traits than goat, sometimes Rowan will be plagued by the urge to just mindlessly chew on something. Since bubblegum probably doesn't exist in this world, he's found all sorts of creative solutions: sticks, blocks of wood, rubber, or really just about anything. He quite talented at playing the pan flute. He enjoys visitors, as long as they come peacefully. He is a very good climber. His balance is impeccable. Although not quite as promiscuous as most satyrs are known to be, Rowan isn't likely to turn down a good offer. Appearance: Rowan is a full blooded satyr. His human half has olive skin and curly, reddish brown hair. He has a bit more hair than your typical man, his arms sporting shaggy, almost furlike growth near his elbows. His form is muscular, particularly his arms. He was cursed with a boyish face, which he hides under a trimmed beard and mustache. His goofy, floppy goat ears don't help. He's rather big, standing at nearly 6'1". The horns on his head curl backwards and are very strong. His goat half is that of a tahr, with long, brown fur and smaller hooves. He's very nimble on his feet, faster than a human, and able to climb and balance uncannily well. As for clothing, Rowan often goes without. With his bottom half so heavily furred, he doesn't really have anything to hide. If he's attending a more proper occasion, he has a couple tunics to pick from in various colors. History: When Rowan was a young kid, he lived with his clan in the forests outside of a human village. The two communities lived in tense harmony, not fighting but not particularly enjoying the company. Rowan was always told to keep away from the human village, but curiosity drew him to it. When he was a teenager, he finally crossed the line and ventured into the humans' civilization to see just what they were all about. When his clan found out, they weren't happy. When Rowan refused their orders to cease and desist, they banished him from their midst. He tried to tell himself that he was better off without them, and moved on. The satyr began his travels, all across the lands. He was taught many different skills from all sorts of creatures: music with elves, baking with dwarfs, drinking with orcs, and, most importantly, archery with centaurs. In recent years, Rowan has settled down a bit. He's getting to the point in his life were he wants stability. He's spent the last year or so building himself an impressive treehouse home, with gardens of fruit and vegetables to suitable itself. Since he doesn't eat meat, he never has to worry about hunting. Although, he will occasionally brave the city to purchase goods, with his bow and arrow to protect himself.

Thranok's axe sunk itself into the soft earth, the head almost entirely submerged in the soil and grass. The Satyr pranced away merrily, as the Dwarf realised the trickster had completely evaded his attack. "Get back 'ere, ya wee bastard," the Prince wheezed, perspiration running down his brow. "Will skin yer hide, I will!" With a grunt, he heaved his axe from the earth, and stalked towards his foe - who had perched itself upon a wagon, and whose tune had picked up in pace. Those who had collapsed to slumber, were quickly waking in response to the song's change of tempo. Thranok smiled gleefully; they'd have that beast's head on a platter. "Face me, yer cowward," Thranok started to say, before another stranger chimed in. The Prince looked at the approaching figure, and quickly deemed it to be a Dragonborn male. He raised an eyebrow when he realised the warrior was coated in glistening mithril. "Well, this be gettin' interestin'," he muttered under his breath. The Satyr changed its focus to the new comer, and jumped into hearty conversation. The Prince held back, deeming it wise to see if the Dragonborn could subdue the creature peacefully... not that he had much of a preference to the Satyr's end state, of course.

Prince Thranok Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold Physical Description: Thranok is nearly as wide as he is tall; a mountainous mass of fat and muscle. Standing at four and a half feet, and smothered in copious amounts of gleaming mails, he looks like your ordinary perception of a Dwarf warrior. Shoulder length blonde hair, and a well kept neck length beard surround what looks to be an almost permanent scorn. Race: Dwarf Gender: Male Age: 163 Class: Fighter Equipment: Double headed bronze battle axe Bronze Short Sword Tower Shield (Hooked over his backpack) Backpack, containing generic travelling goods (food + water etc) Bio: Thranok, son of Mountain Lord Thranix Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold, and sixth in line to the Gemstone Throne. Sounds a mighty title, doesn't it? Alas, being sixth in line to the throne, and possessing five older brothers, means that it is unlikely that Thranok will ever achieve much greatness beyond performing his duties as a royal dignitary. Not that it would be a hard life mind, and one could certainly do worse - but for some of us, a cushioned and sheltered life free of strife and struggle is a life not worth living. Thranok is of such mind, and that's why he has formally resigned his post - against his father's wishes - and set forth into the world with nothing but his axe and a few decades of combat training to his name. He's a hardy warrior in theory, who has proven himself on the training grounds, but who has not fought that many real enemies. A few goblins met their demise at the wrong end of his axe, that's a given, but beyond this? No. Thranok is a mighty hero in the making, not a mighty hero stalking the world. His future may bring greatness and glory, or it may be a rather short lived tale of misguided ambition and undeserved arrogance. Time will tell. Personality: Thranok is an arrogant, overly confident warrior full of boasts. His tales are long and usually untrue, but he is always prepared to back up his bravado with real action. He's the brave amateur that all began as, and the keen idealist that no one ends up as. For Thranok, honour is everything - for now at least.

Icarus's mental facilities slowly returned to him as he watched the satyr dance from the dwarfs blows and soon after his body felt freed from its previous burden of drowsiness. Icarus realized that the satyr had been the one lulling them to sleep and must have been up to the typical tricks that were related with his kind. Being able to now fully focus on the scene, Icarus took in the full scope of the characters he viewed before him, especially that of the dwarf; of whom he noted some form of respect for his ability to withstand the tune that had put so many of their fellow companions under its enchanting spell. Something in the back of his brain nipped at him as if he was forgetting something as he glanced at the dwarf who was now wrenching his axe free from the ground and spitting threats at the satyr, and then his eyes fell onto the crest upon his armor and he quickly reached for one of his books in his pouch. Pulling out a tomb of dwarven history and lore, having temporarily forgotten the almost comical scene enveloping before him in the fervor of his search, and found therein the exact crest in a chapter for dwarven royalty. He stood still. Icarus was raised in a simple mining town on the outskirts of the dwarven kingdoms that had little care for politics and the likes, and he himself had never given any of it much thought, but still there was something exciting about being in the presence of royalty, especially one who Icarus could gather much of his peoples history from. And who knows.. maybe upon gaining the favor of a prince as a companion he could help shake off some of the negative perceptions of his art.. He quickly realized the foolishness of his thinking, the man was a prince after all, probably not the type to take much in the way of company from the simpler folks and furthermore companionship was not something to be used as a from of personal gain for oneself. With a thump and a short grunt, Icarus nodded his head as if to agree with his inner monologue advocating against the path of using his relationships for material rewards. Then with a start Icarus realized he had become oblivious to the entire event surrounding him between the prince and the satyr! He was always slightly amazed at how quickly he could forget and drop everything over a hunt for some strange piece of arcane knowledge somewhere in his books and quickly spun around looking for where the pair had gone off to. The satyr obviously had still been eluding the dwarf and was no jumping down from the cart to greet a new traveler, in shining mail, who had wandered into the camp. He also noticed the dwarven prince had calmed down enough to cease swinging his axe at the satyr. Icarus at first was not sure what he should do about the two outsiders in the camp.. and after about a moments reflection shrugged his shoulders and wandered over to go join in the conversation silently wondering what other surprises the rest of this day had in store for him.

Name: Icarus Shadesong Race: Dwarf Physical Description: Like your typical dwarf he is quite stocky with broad thick shoulders that have been finely toned from many hard years of working in his fathers forge. His beard his far too short to be braided like most dwarfs and is actually groomed quite close to his face; this being due to safety hazards within the forge(Icarus learned at quite a young age how flammable hair can be). His hair was almost a fine blondish white, quite rare among dwarves, yet the ash and smoke from in the forge has seemed to almost permanently left a layer of soot turning his almost oddly bleached looking hair into a dirty blonde. His eye's are a mix between blue and green and always had a look of inquisitiveness in them, a trait he was told he had received from his mother, a wandering healer. Forging no only requires a steady hand but perfect posture, which has given him the habit of having an almost rigidly stiff back, thus giving him the appearance of being taller than he actually is(despite being only average height for a dwarf). This rigid way of walking contrast with the loose and inquisitive nature he carries himself with. Gender: Male Age: 24 (Very young for a dwarf!) Class: Healer(With a mix of Divination/Conjuration in there) Equipment: -A large and sturdy two handed forging hammer, used for hammering down thick blocks of metal to flat sheets fast. A little unwieldy in combat since it really isn't made for that purpose, but can pack quite a punch due to its weight. -Very small craftsman hammer used on small tool working -Leather smith's gear that provides decent protection from whether elements -White traveling cloak with family crest emblazoned on the back -Backpack of supplies like rations, water, small knife, pair of tongs, rope, blanket, and flint + steel. Bio: Born into a small darven mountain mining clan, his father was one of the few local smithies and his mother was a wandering healer who seemed to work wonders even with little amounts of herbs or potions at her disposal and sometimes was seen talking to what only looked like an empty room of shadows. Her mother had a brief romance with his father, Gruve Stromschlag, and only stayed long enough to give birth to Icarus and then suddenly vanished. She left behind a pile of books with a single note saying: "To my son, the only gift I am able to give you." Icarus spent years in his father's forge repairing much of the local's tools and learning to be quite an adept craftsman, and when he became old enough to read in his spare time gorged himself on the various books his mother had left him. The books were mainly on healing, but occasionally he read one on spirituality and on magical rituals. Icarus used this mew knowledge to assist miners that had been injured during their work in the more dangerous parts of the caverns. Yet he noticed when helping people he could see strange white lights surround those more grievously injured, and on even more rare occasions, voices coming from recently deceased bodies. His clan was a superstitious one; so he kept these events to himself. As time passed and he grew older, these events occurred more often. Once during a sickness outbreak where he was treating a local baker had become so ill his death became inevitable; Icarus saw the white light began floating off the man and almost felt a connection to it. yet he felt a sense of longing from it, a sense of desperation and as if almost by instinct Icarus willed it to remain connected to the body. Icarus felt himself being drained from this "connection" to the light but saw improvement in the man so he continued. The next day, after Icarus had passed out after a few hours of this exertion the man woke up; fully recovered. It was like a miracle, but Icarus did not speak of what he had done for he had a sinking feeling about what it was. Necromancy. Icarus realized what the stories of his mother and her strange talks with shadows and miracle healings were. She was a necromancer, but weren't they supposed to be evil? All she had done.. was help people? Maybe.. just maybe necromancers weren't.. necessarily evil? With this revelation Icarus was frightened, but endeavored to test his new found powers in secret; he began to listen to the voices near the graveyards and hear their moans, he tried to heal his own wounds and scratches from the forge without anything but this "energy", and as he experimented his powers grew. One morning a massive cave in several miners were killed. The clan gathered to mourn their dead and has Icarus arrived he noticed one spirit standing near his wife who was wailing over his body. Without thinking and so distraught by this woman's wails Icarus used his new powers to make the spirit visible to her. She stopped suddenly as the spirit of her dead husband held her for one last time and then with a shimmer disappeared. The clan was shocked by this display of power and immediately turned against Icarus. Only due to his long time of healing their injured did they allow him to gather some of his supplies before being exiled. His own father now looked at him with disgust as he gathered his things. Icarus gathered some tools and one of his mother's cloaks that she had wrapped up the books she left for him and set off into the world. He changed his clan name to shadesong after the stories of his mother talking to shadows, and donned the cloak that had the crest of a phoenix embroidered on the back. Icarus now wanders from town to town doing handy work or healing in exchange for lodging or food and is always in search of a good library to further his studies in his arts over death. Icarus hopes to find his mother and one day found a school for white necromancers that use their influence over life and death for good. Personality: Icarus us incredibly studious and loves to get his hands on any books, bits of lore, or artifacts he can find. He is a bit wary of talking about his past and abilities due to his foul treatment from those he loves, but deep down is incredibly friendly, loyal, and appreciative of those that can look past his abilities to who he really is. He can get caught up in seeing all the spirits and emotions of those around him or just in one of his newest books so he is considered a bit of a spacey person that gets distracted easily.

Meliya straightened herself as the effects of the sleep spell began to ease off and her senses returned to her. Swiftly stringing her bow and fitting an arrow into it, she took aim at the satyr, ready to let a spell loose towards him should the creature make any attempt to play another enchantment on that set of pipes he carried. "How did you know it was a sleep enchantment?" the mage enquired curiously as her bright eyes flitted to focus on the Dwarven prince. It seemed strange to her that the dwarf would have such knowledge of magic when he did not study it himself. Out of the corner of her eye she kept a slight watch on the satyr's movements, though it seemed pre-occupied with the arrival of this dragonborn. Perhaps he could convince the Satyr to leave the party be, and if not she knew Ialon would be circling nearby to give her any warning should the half-goat, half-man try to attack again.

Name: Lady Meliya Ardorion of Achyn Vale; often referred to as "Mel" by those who she feels closest to Physical Description: Tall and slender like many of her race, standing at six foot five inches with well-defined cheekbones and bright ice-blue eyes. Her hair is straw blonde in colour and stops just below her shoulders, with natural curls/waves through it. Attire: (apologies for the slightly huge images, Idk how to resize them :$) "Casual" or otherwise every day attire can be seen in above picture Armour: Race: Elf (Wood Elf) Gender: Female Age: 861, roughly Class: Mage Equipment: Bow and quiver (Substituted for a staff, Mel fights using magic-imbued arrows, as she is most skilled in offensive spells, tends to favour cold/ice spells the most of all) Dagger (secondary weapon, not often used) Pack (for carrying supplies e.g. food, water etc.) Can't really be counted as "equipment" per se, but she has a hawk companion (most similar in appearance to our red-tailed hawk) named Ialon, who travels with her. He is used mainly as a scout to fly ahead and scope the area, however he will protect her using his talons should the need arise. Bio: Her mother died during her birth due to complications, so Mel knows little of her except that she was a talented markswoman and good with a bow. She was instead raised by her father, who insisted upon keeping her reigned in and under constant guard, as the young she-elf had the same headstrong spirit as her mother and, being the last he had of her, feared Mel may meet a sticky end if she were allowed to pursue the part of a warrior. At first, he intended for her to remain with him in their household and she received the same general education as many non-warrioresque elven maidens, learning of history and politics (though to the politics she paid very little heed as it bored her to death). At 500 years of age it was discovered that Mel had a talent for ice elemental magic when she accidentally froze part of her father's library after getting particularly excited in one of her lessons. After this, her father allowed her to train as a mage and learn to use her talents to her advantage, through her training the she-elf just couldn't seem to get the hang of directing her magic through a staff, and when, in frustration her instructor suggested she try using a different weapon, such as a bow and arrows, they found she was most comfortable fighting with magic this way. When she graduated from her lessons, her father gifted her with her mother's old bow and quiver, which are to this day still with her, and her most prized possessions. After much nagging and persuading, Mel managed to convince her father to allow her to travel and see the world, as she grew tired of the repetitiveness of her life in the Vale and constant skirmishes with the nearby goblins, and this is how we find her currently as she travels to try and meet other races and get to know the wider world better. May work an encounter with a vampire into the rp at some point to add the vampirism curse in, we shall see how it goes I guess x'D Personality: Sarcastic | Untrusting | Loyal | Sharp-tongued/snappy | Compassionate | Sensitive Untrusting of newcomers/strangers, but once she comes to know someone or think of them as a friend you will not find a better or more loyal companion. You stick your neck out for her, she will reciprocate, essentially. Rather sharp-tongued and snappish, which can surprise some given her more lady-like upbringing in her early life; Mel is never short of a sarcastic quip or remark. It's best to learn quickly not to take most of them to heart, she often can't help it, being not a particularly patient individual. Despite being sarcastic a lot of the time, this elf can still be sensitive and compassionate to the plights of others, and is always looking to lend a hand to those in need, even if she has a peculiar way of showing it at times

If yer hear a tune lass, Thranok hissed in annoyance at the Elf maid, "and nah one 'o yer friends be playin' 'n instrument, 'n suddenly yer be fallin' asleep, it be a safe bet that someone's tryin' ta sleep ya. Me nurses used to soothe me 'n me brothers to sleep with such nonsense when we were little'ns, ta give mar some peace, aye?" The Dwarf gripped his axe impatiently, willing the beast to drop dead, but for some reason uncertain that bloody murder was the right way to go with this situation. Few others seemed to show much hostility to the idea of being forced asleep and made helpless - but then the tall folk were often daft in their perception of matters. "What'd yer make of all this, kinsman?" the Prince asked, switching his attention to the Dwarf approaching him and the Elf. "Think we should be slayin' it? Or lettin' that lizard talk it down?"

Prince Thranok Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold Physical Description: Thranok is nearly as wide as he is tall; a mountainous mass of fat and muscle. Standing at four and a half feet, and smothered in copious amounts of gleaming mails, he looks like your ordinary perception of a Dwarf warrior. Shoulder length blonde hair, and a well kept neck length beard surround what looks to be an almost permanent scorn. Race: Dwarf Gender: Male Age: 163 Class: Fighter Equipment: Double headed bronze battle axe Bronze Short Sword Tower Shield (Hooked over his backpack) Backpack, containing generic travelling goods (food + water etc) Bio: Thranok, son of Mountain Lord Thranix Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold, and sixth in line to the Gemstone Throne. Sounds a mighty title, doesn't it? Alas, being sixth in line to the throne, and possessing five older brothers, means that it is unlikely that Thranok will ever achieve much greatness beyond performing his duties as a royal dignitary. Not that it would be a hard life mind, and one could certainly do worse - but for some of us, a cushioned and sheltered life free of strife and struggle is a life not worth living. Thranok is of such mind, and that's why he has formally resigned his post - against his father's wishes - and set forth into the world with nothing but his axe and a few decades of combat training to his name. He's a hardy warrior in theory, who has proven himself on the training grounds, but who has not fought that many real enemies. A few goblins met their demise at the wrong end of his axe, that's a given, but beyond this? No. Thranok is a mighty hero in the making, not a mighty hero stalking the world. His future may bring greatness and glory, or it may be a rather short lived tale of misguided ambition and undeserved arrogance. Time will tell. Personality: Thranok is an arrogant, overly confident warrior full of boasts. His tales are long and usually untrue, but he is always prepared to back up his bravado with real action. He's the brave amateur that all began as, and the keen idealist that no one ends up as. For Thranok, honour is everything - for now at least.

In all fairness we are trespassing on his land. Meliya pointed out, although the question had not been chiefly directed at her. "I think it would be unfair to kill him, even if he is a pest. Send him off with a warning, maybe." the Elf suggested. "The lizard man seems to have the situation under control." Glancing upwards, she tried to make a judgement on the time of day using the sun's position, but it was hard to pinpoint it when peering through the canopy of trees. Muttering a quiet curse of her own under her breath, she relaxed the string of her bow and returned the arrow that had been loaded there to her quiver. "The longer we tarry here with this beast, the later it gets. If any of us were planning to get lodgings in the next town, we'll never make it there before the inns all shut, at this rate."

Name: Lady Meliya Ardorion of Achyn Vale; often referred to as "Mel" by those who she feels closest to Physical Description: Tall and slender like many of her race, standing at six foot five inches with well-defined cheekbones and bright ice-blue eyes. Her hair is straw blonde in colour and stops just below her shoulders, with natural curls/waves through it. Attire: (apologies for the slightly huge images, Idk how to resize them :$) "Casual" or otherwise every day attire can be seen in above picture Armour: Race: Elf (Wood Elf) Gender: Female Age: 861, roughly Class: Mage Equipment: Bow and quiver (Substituted for a staff, Mel fights using magic-imbued arrows, as she is most skilled in offensive spells, tends to favour cold/ice spells the most of all) Dagger (secondary weapon, not often used) Pack (for carrying supplies e.g. food, water etc.) Can't really be counted as "equipment" per se, but she has a hawk companion (most similar in appearance to our red-tailed hawk) named Ialon, who travels with her. He is used mainly as a scout to fly ahead and scope the area, however he will protect her using his talons should the need arise. Bio: Her mother died during her birth due to complications, so Mel knows little of her except that she was a talented markswoman and good with a bow. She was instead raised by her father, who insisted upon keeping her reigned in and under constant guard, as the young she-elf had the same headstrong spirit as her mother and, being the last he had of her, feared Mel may meet a sticky end if she were allowed to pursue the part of a warrior. At first, he intended for her to remain with him in their household and she received the same general education as many non-warrioresque elven maidens, learning of history and politics (though to the politics she paid very little heed as it bored her to death). At 500 years of age it was discovered that Mel had a talent for ice elemental magic when she accidentally froze part of her father's library after getting particularly excited in one of her lessons. After this, her father allowed her to train as a mage and learn to use her talents to her advantage, through her training the she-elf just couldn't seem to get the hang of directing her magic through a staff, and when, in frustration her instructor suggested she try using a different weapon, such as a bow and arrows, they found she was most comfortable fighting with magic this way. When she graduated from her lessons, her father gifted her with her mother's old bow and quiver, which are to this day still with her, and her most prized possessions. After much nagging and persuading, Mel managed to convince her father to allow her to travel and see the world, as she grew tired of the repetitiveness of her life in the Vale and constant skirmishes with the nearby goblins, and this is how we find her currently as she travels to try and meet other races and get to know the wider world better. May work an encounter with a vampire into the rp at some point to add the vampirism curse in, we shall see how it goes I guess x'D Personality: Sarcastic | Untrusting | Loyal | Sharp-tongued/snappy | Compassionate | Sensitive Untrusting of newcomers/strangers, but once she comes to know someone or think of them as a friend you will not find a better or more loyal companion. You stick your neck out for her, she will reciprocate, essentially. Rather sharp-tongued and snappish, which can surprise some given her more lady-like upbringing in her early life; Mel is never short of a sarcastic quip or remark. It's best to learn quickly not to take most of them to heart, she often can't help it, being not a particularly patient individual. Despite being sarcastic a lot of the time, this elf can still be sensitive and compassionate to the plights of others, and is always looking to lend a hand to those in need, even if she has a peculiar way of showing it at times

As the conversation between the dwarf and the elf began, one of the satyr's long ears wandered back to listing in. He had no intentions of letting them kill him, and was pretty confident in his ability to escape should he desire. He did this sort of thing on a day to day basis, after all. The dwarf, a curiously aggressive creature, was beginning to grow on him. A few words in the neighboring conversation tore the satyr away from his own with the dragon beast. The party was heading to town? On this road? That simply would not do. The satyr broke off from the dragonborn and scampered to the elf and dwarf, butting in to their talk. "You don't want to go down this road, my friends," He said. "Not if a town is what you're looking for. About half a mile down, you'll find a fork, and the one that leads to the village runs straight through the worg and goblin camps. They set up just last week. Nasty tempers; don't take well to jokes. They won't be as hospitable as I." The satyr crossed his arms knowingly and smiled. "But I can take you a safer route through a small path in the forest. It'll take just half a day longer, with a guaranteed reduction in goblins and worgs." The satyr was completely sincere in his offer, but he seemed to fail to see that his guests may not trust him. To him, this whole incident had been a fun joke. But even if they lacked trust in him, he couldn't just let them wander into the goblins' midst. After all, he wasn't evil.

Name: Rowan Blackhoof of Nowhere in Particular Age: 25 Gender: Male pecies: Satyr Classes: Bard Equipment: Possesses an enchanted pan flute. When played, all who listen are at ease. If played close enough, it can lull a person to sleep. He carries a bow and arrow with him for safety. While he rarely uses it for violence, he practices with it quite often. Personality: Rowan is a gentle creature, as far as satyrs go. His species is known for being trickers and theives, attacking those who travel through their forests and kidnapping young women from villages for their own brutish sport. Of course, in actuality, it's a fairly small part of the population that do these things, but they give the whole species a bad name. He's peaceful, not caring too much for the wars that pop up between other species. You'd have to twist his arm to get him to give a rat's ass about politics. Rowan would rather spend the day roaming the forest, picking on the occasional traveler, eating berries, and flirting with the wood nymphs. Other: Rowan is a vegetarian. Although he has more human traits than goat, sometimes Rowan will be plagued by the urge to just mindlessly chew on something. Since bubblegum probably doesn't exist in this world, he's found all sorts of creative solutions: sticks, blocks of wood, rubber, or really just about anything. He quite talented at playing the pan flute. He enjoys visitors, as long as they come peacefully. He is a very good climber. His balance is impeccable. Although not quite as promiscuous as most satyrs are known to be, Rowan isn't likely to turn down a good offer. Appearance: Rowan is a full blooded satyr. His human half has olive skin and curly, reddish brown hair. He has a bit more hair than your typical man, his arms sporting shaggy, almost furlike growth near his elbows. His form is muscular, particularly his arms. He was cursed with a boyish face, which he hides under a trimmed beard and mustache. His goofy, floppy goat ears don't help. He's rather big, standing at nearly 6'1". The horns on his head curl backwards and are very strong. His goat half is that of a tahr, with long, brown fur and smaller hooves. He's very nimble on his feet, faster than a human, and able to climb and balance uncannily well. As for clothing, Rowan often goes without. With his bottom half so heavily furred, he doesn't really have anything to hide. If he's attending a more proper occasion, he has a couple tunics to pick from in various colors. History: When Rowan was a young kid, he lived with his clan in the forests outside of a human village. The two communities lived in tense harmony, not fighting but not particularly enjoying the company. Rowan was always told to keep away from the human village, but curiosity drew him to it. When he was a teenager, he finally crossed the line and ventured into the humans' civilization to see just what they were all about. When his clan found out, they weren't happy. When Rowan refused their orders to cease and desist, they banished him from their midst. He tried to tell himself that he was better off without them, and moved on. The satyr began his travels, all across the lands. He was taught many different skills from all sorts of creatures: music with elves, baking with dwarfs, drinking with orcs, and, most importantly, archery with centaurs. In recent years, Rowan has settled down a bit. He's getting to the point in his life were he wants stability. He's spent the last year or so building himself an impressive treehouse home, with gardens of fruit and vegetables to suitable itself. Since he doesn't eat meat, he never has to worry about hunting. Although, he will occasionally brave the city to purchase goods, with his bow and arrow to protect himself.

Meliya took a few hasty steps backwards as the Satyr approached, her hand flying to the hilt of the dagger strapped at her belt. Eyeing him distrustfully, the Elf mage cocked her head to the side as she tried to determine whether this was another trick of his or whether he truly meant to spare them the trouble of a fight. "How do we know we can trust you?" she demanded, the words slow to leave her mouth since she chose them carefully to avoid provoking the Satyr into potential aggression. "You could just be leading us further astray. Isn't that what Satyrs do to travellers?" she ventured, remembering the stories she had heard from the veterans back when she was still training, and the warnings that had been given to her by her father before she had left on her journey.

Name: Lady Meliya Ardorion of Achyn Vale; often referred to as "Mel" by those who she feels closest to Physical Description: Tall and slender like many of her race, standing at six foot five inches with well-defined cheekbones and bright ice-blue eyes. Her hair is straw blonde in colour and stops just below her shoulders, with natural curls/waves through it. Attire: (apologies for the slightly huge images, Idk how to resize them :$) "Casual" or otherwise every day attire can be seen in above picture Armour: Race: Elf (Wood Elf) Gender: Female Age: 861, roughly Class: Mage Equipment: Bow and quiver (Substituted for a staff, Mel fights using magic-imbued arrows, as she is most skilled in offensive spells, tends to favour cold/ice spells the most of all) Dagger (secondary weapon, not often used) Pack (for carrying supplies e.g. food, water etc.) Can't really be counted as "equipment" per se, but she has a hawk companion (most similar in appearance to our red-tailed hawk) named Ialon, who travels with her. He is used mainly as a scout to fly ahead and scope the area, however he will protect her using his talons should the need arise. Bio: Her mother died during her birth due to complications, so Mel knows little of her except that she was a talented markswoman and good with a bow. She was instead raised by her father, who insisted upon keeping her reigned in and under constant guard, as the young she-elf had the same headstrong spirit as her mother and, being the last he had of her, feared Mel may meet a sticky end if she were allowed to pursue the part of a warrior. At first, he intended for her to remain with him in their household and she received the same general education as many non-warrioresque elven maidens, learning of history and politics (though to the politics she paid very little heed as it bored her to death). At 500 years of age it was discovered that Mel had a talent for ice elemental magic when she accidentally froze part of her father's library after getting particularly excited in one of her lessons. After this, her father allowed her to train as a mage and learn to use her talents to her advantage, through her training the she-elf just couldn't seem to get the hang of directing her magic through a staff, and when, in frustration her instructor suggested she try using a different weapon, such as a bow and arrows, they found she was most comfortable fighting with magic this way. When she graduated from her lessons, her father gifted her with her mother's old bow and quiver, which are to this day still with her, and her most prized possessions. After much nagging and persuading, Mel managed to convince her father to allow her to travel and see the world, as she grew tired of the repetitiveness of her life in the Vale and constant skirmishes with the nearby goblins, and this is how we find her currently as she travels to try and meet other races and get to know the wider world better. May work an encounter with a vampire into the rp at some point to add the vampirism curse in, we shall see how it goes I guess x'D Personality: Sarcastic | Untrusting | Loyal | Sharp-tongued/snappy | Compassionate | Sensitive Untrusting of newcomers/strangers, but once she comes to know someone or think of them as a friend you will not find a better or more loyal companion. You stick your neck out for her, she will reciprocate, essentially. Rather sharp-tongued and snappish, which can surprise some given her more lady-like upbringing in her early life; Mel is never short of a sarcastic quip or remark. It's best to learn quickly not to take most of them to heart, she often can't help it, being not a particularly patient individual. Despite being sarcastic a lot of the time, this elf can still be sensitive and compassionate to the plights of others, and is always looking to lend a hand to those in need, even if she has a peculiar way of showing it at times

The satyr's ears flipped back. Clearly she had said something wrong. "Isn't that what satyrs do?" He repeated, "Yes, all satyrs, each and every last one, wants to lead innocent travelers astray and then leave them to die. Just like all satyrs love to kidnap and rape human women, steal, loot, and otherwise be evil, nasty creatures. In fact, we're no better than goblins! Hell, you might fair better with them." With his floppy ears pinned back, the creature looked a bit more intimidating. He was quite tall, and very well toned. His horns were sharp, and currently, his face held irritation. But he didn't show any sign of attacking, despite being offended. The satyr glared the elfin woman down for a few seconds before he sighed and relented. "I was just playing around before. It was only a joke. But I mean what I say about the danger down this road. If you go down that way, someone is likely to be hurt, or worse."

Name: Rowan Blackhoof of Nowhere in Particular Age: 25 Gender: Male pecies: Satyr Classes: Bard Equipment: Possesses an enchanted pan flute. When played, all who listen are at ease. If played close enough, it can lull a person to sleep. He carries a bow and arrow with him for safety. While he rarely uses it for violence, he practices with it quite often. Personality: Rowan is a gentle creature, as far as satyrs go. His species is known for being trickers and theives, attacking those who travel through their forests and kidnapping young women from villages for their own brutish sport. Of course, in actuality, it's a fairly small part of the population that do these things, but they give the whole species a bad name. He's peaceful, not caring too much for the wars that pop up between other species. You'd have to twist his arm to get him to give a rat's ass about politics. Rowan would rather spend the day roaming the forest, picking on the occasional traveler, eating berries, and flirting with the wood nymphs. Other: Rowan is a vegetarian. Although he has more human traits than goat, sometimes Rowan will be plagued by the urge to just mindlessly chew on something. Since bubblegum probably doesn't exist in this world, he's found all sorts of creative solutions: sticks, blocks of wood, rubber, or really just about anything. He quite talented at playing the pan flute. He enjoys visitors, as long as they come peacefully. He is a very good climber. His balance is impeccable. Although not quite as promiscuous as most satyrs are known to be, Rowan isn't likely to turn down a good offer. Appearance: Rowan is a full blooded satyr. His human half has olive skin and curly, reddish brown hair. He has a bit more hair than your typical man, his arms sporting shaggy, almost furlike growth near his elbows. His form is muscular, particularly his arms. He was cursed with a boyish face, which he hides under a trimmed beard and mustache. His goofy, floppy goat ears don't help. He's rather big, standing at nearly 6'1". The horns on his head curl backwards and are very strong. His goat half is that of a tahr, with long, brown fur and smaller hooves. He's very nimble on his feet, faster than a human, and able to climb and balance uncannily well. As for clothing, Rowan often goes without. With his bottom half so heavily furred, he doesn't really have anything to hide. If he's attending a more proper occasion, he has a couple tunics to pick from in various colors. History: When Rowan was a young kid, he lived with his clan in the forests outside of a human village. The two communities lived in tense harmony, not fighting but not particularly enjoying the company. Rowan was always told to keep away from the human village, but curiosity drew him to it. When he was a teenager, he finally crossed the line and ventured into the humans' civilization to see just what they were all about. When his clan found out, they weren't happy. When Rowan refused their orders to cease and desist, they banished him from their midst. He tried to tell himself that he was better off without them, and moved on. The satyr began his travels, all across the lands. He was taught many different skills from all sorts of creatures: music with elves, baking with dwarfs, drinking with orcs, and, most importantly, archery with centaurs. In recent years, Rowan has settled down a bit. He's getting to the point in his life were he wants stability. He's spent the last year or so building himself an impressive treehouse home, with gardens of fruit and vegetables to suitable itself. Since he doesn't eat meat, he never has to worry about hunting. Although, he will occasionally brave the city to purchase goods, with his bow and arrow to protect himself.

Having an attunment to a soul, to the very thing that gives someone their humanity and personality, Icarus has always had a special knack for feeling the emotions and intentions of others, and even on occasions of very powerful emotions he can see it radiating off of them in streaks of light; the colors of which showed him the type of emotion. He hasn't been able to work out the emotions with every feeling or color he has seen yet, but he was reasonably sure that the satyr meant no ill will to his party, in fact he was quite sure of one thing; that the satyr was having a lovely time "playing" around with them as his glee during the height of the incident was practically making him shine like a beacon to Icarus. Hearing the satyrs words and being reasonably sure of the lack of deceit coming from this creature, Icarus took one step toward his eleven companion and raised his hands in almost a defensive manner saying "I believe we should take the satyr's advice, now I know that.. wel.. he hasn't shown himself to be the most trustworthy of associates yet, but I have a sort of.. knack for, lets call it reading I guess, reading others and I'm quite sure he hasn't meant us any harm. Now the joke may not be appreciated, but that's exactly what he meant by it.. a joke. Maybe jis timing could be a bit better *Icarus half smiled at his own attempt at comic relief* but he seems sincere now." Icarus half turns to the satyr. "and we appreciate the advice on the troubles ahead, that is for sure, but" turning back toward the elf, "I know I don't speak for everyone here and as a group we must decide what to do.. preferably without violence" said Icarus as he noticed the elf's hand resting on her knife, slightly paling at the thought of violence. Despite all his years of healing, the sight of blood always put some fear into him, as if it reminded him of the torment of those recently departed that only he see after all others believed them gone from this world. Icarus hoped his words would ease the tensions so a reasonable discussion could be held, and also a small part of him hoped his boldness in putting forward this proposition did not offend the prince next to him; as in his readings royalty were commonly portrayed as volatile and easily offended, and Icarus was not sure what to expect from this one.

Name: Icarus Shadesong Race: Dwarf Physical Description: Like your typical dwarf he is quite stocky with broad thick shoulders that have been finely toned from many hard years of working in his fathers forge. His beard his far too short to be braided like most dwarfs and is actually groomed quite close to his face; this being due to safety hazards within the forge(Icarus learned at quite a young age how flammable hair can be). His hair was almost a fine blondish white, quite rare among dwarves, yet the ash and smoke from in the forge has seemed to almost permanently left a layer of soot turning his almost oddly bleached looking hair into a dirty blonde. His eye's are a mix between blue and green and always had a look of inquisitiveness in them, a trait he was told he had received from his mother, a wandering healer. Forging no only requires a steady hand but perfect posture, which has given him the habit of having an almost rigidly stiff back, thus giving him the appearance of being taller than he actually is(despite being only average height for a dwarf). This rigid way of walking contrast with the loose and inquisitive nature he carries himself with. Gender: Male Age: 24 (Very young for a dwarf!) Class: Healer(With a mix of Divination/Conjuration in there) Equipment: -A large and sturdy two handed forging hammer, used for hammering down thick blocks of metal to flat sheets fast. A little unwieldy in combat since it really isn't made for that purpose, but can pack quite a punch due to its weight. -Very small craftsman hammer used on small tool working -Leather smith's gear that provides decent protection from whether elements -White traveling cloak with family crest emblazoned on the back -Backpack of supplies like rations, water, small knife, pair of tongs, rope, blanket, and flint + steel. Bio: Born into a small darven mountain mining clan, his father was one of the few local smithies and his mother was a wandering healer who seemed to work wonders even with little amounts of herbs or potions at her disposal and sometimes was seen talking to what only looked like an empty room of shadows. Her mother had a brief romance with his father, Gruve Stromschlag, and only stayed long enough to give birth to Icarus and then suddenly vanished. She left behind a pile of books with a single note saying: "To my son, the only gift I am able to give you." Icarus spent years in his father's forge repairing much of the local's tools and learning to be quite an adept craftsman, and when he became old enough to read in his spare time gorged himself on the various books his mother had left him. The books were mainly on healing, but occasionally he read one on spirituality and on magical rituals. Icarus used this mew knowledge to assist miners that had been injured during their work in the more dangerous parts of the caverns. Yet he noticed when helping people he could see strange white lights surround those more grievously injured, and on even more rare occasions, voices coming from recently deceased bodies. His clan was a superstitious one; so he kept these events to himself. As time passed and he grew older, these events occurred more often. Once during a sickness outbreak where he was treating a local baker had become so ill his death became inevitable; Icarus saw the white light began floating off the man and almost felt a connection to it. yet he felt a sense of longing from it, a sense of desperation and as if almost by instinct Icarus willed it to remain connected to the body. Icarus felt himself being drained from this "connection" to the light but saw improvement in the man so he continued. The next day, after Icarus had passed out after a few hours of this exertion the man woke up; fully recovered. It was like a miracle, but Icarus did not speak of what he had done for he had a sinking feeling about what it was. Necromancy. Icarus realized what the stories of his mother and her strange talks with shadows and miracle healings were. She was a necromancer, but weren't they supposed to be evil? All she had done.. was help people? Maybe.. just maybe necromancers weren't.. necessarily evil? With this revelation Icarus was frightened, but endeavored to test his new found powers in secret; he began to listen to the voices near the graveyards and hear their moans, he tried to heal his own wounds and scratches from the forge without anything but this "energy", and as he experimented his powers grew. One morning a massive cave in several miners were killed. The clan gathered to mourn their dead and has Icarus arrived he noticed one spirit standing near his wife who was wailing over his body. Without thinking and so distraught by this woman's wails Icarus used his new powers to make the spirit visible to her. She stopped suddenly as the spirit of her dead husband held her for one last time and then with a shimmer disappeared. The clan was shocked by this display of power and immediately turned against Icarus. Only due to his long time of healing their injured did they allow him to gather some of his supplies before being exiled. His own father now looked at him with disgust as he gathered his things. Icarus gathered some tools and one of his mother's cloaks that she had wrapped up the books she left for him and set off into the world. He changed his clan name to shadesong after the stories of his mother talking to shadows, and donned the cloak that had the crest of a phoenix embroidered on the back. Icarus now wanders from town to town doing handy work or healing in exchange for lodging or food and is always in search of a good library to further his studies in his arts over death. Icarus hopes to find his mother and one day found a school for white necromancers that use their influence over life and death for good. Personality: Icarus us incredibly studious and loves to get his hands on any books, bits of lore, or artifacts he can find. He is a bit wary of talking about his past and abilities due to his foul treatment from those he loves, but deep down is incredibly friendly, loyal, and appreciative of those that can look past his abilities to who he really is. He can get caught up in seeing all the spirits and emotions of those around him or just in one of his newest books so he is considered a bit of a spacey person that gets distracted easily.

Thranok grew increasingly impatient with the Satyr's presence, and this magnified itself tenfold when the beast thought it wise to put itself within close proximity of his axe. The Dwarf made to behead the creature in one fluent and powerful swing, gleeful to be ending the nonsense once and for all - but then he stopped, as the Satyr mentioned goblins and worgs, on down the road. Before he could put questions to the trickster, Thranok's makeshift companions beat him to it. The Elf questioned the Satyr's credibility (maybe Elves weren't so stupid after all!), and the Prince's kinsman, a blacksmith who seemed to have a mysterious intelligence befitting someone of a higher role in life, decided that the group should trust the creature. "Bah," Thranok snorted, spitting at the ground in front of his kinsman. "Yer sense 'o things be as weak as yer beard, brother. Aint no good that can come from the likes 'o this pointy eared prick." Not for the first time that day, Thranok hefted his axe at the Satyr. "Got's me one question fer ya," he said, "yer say tha' road be blocked by goblins 'n worgs. How many goblins, and how many worgs? Maybe I can be gleamin' me some truth from yer tricks 'n nonsense." The Prince thought it likely that the Satyr was trying to lead the caravan down another route, that did indeed have a host of goblins and worgs. On the other hand, it was possible that he was telling the truth - that he was a freak Satyr that possessed no want to cause mischief. Either way, the Prince wanted to know just how much resistance the caravan was likely to face, one way or the other. If the Trickster came out with a bloated number, Thranok would assume there were just a few goblins and their dogs, but if the Trickster came out with a low number, he'd bet his father's kingdom on there being an entire army of the critters.

Prince Thranok Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold Physical Description: Thranok is nearly as wide as he is tall; a mountainous mass of fat and muscle. Standing at four and a half feet, and smothered in copious amounts of gleaming mails, he looks like your ordinary perception of a Dwarf warrior. Shoulder length blonde hair, and a well kept neck length beard surround what looks to be an almost permanent scorn. Race: Dwarf Gender: Male Age: 163 Class: Fighter Equipment: Double headed bronze battle axe Bronze Short Sword Tower Shield (Hooked over his backpack) Backpack, containing generic travelling goods (food + water etc) Bio: Thranok, son of Mountain Lord Thranix Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold, and sixth in line to the Gemstone Throne. Sounds a mighty title, doesn't it? Alas, being sixth in line to the throne, and possessing five older brothers, means that it is unlikely that Thranok will ever achieve much greatness beyond performing his duties as a royal dignitary. Not that it would be a hard life mind, and one could certainly do worse - but for some of us, a cushioned and sheltered life free of strife and struggle is a life not worth living. Thranok is of such mind, and that's why he has formally resigned his post - against his father's wishes - and set forth into the world with nothing but his axe and a few decades of combat training to his name. He's a hardy warrior in theory, who has proven himself on the training grounds, but who has not fought that many real enemies. A few goblins met their demise at the wrong end of his axe, that's a given, but beyond this? No. Thranok is a mighty hero in the making, not a mighty hero stalking the world. His future may bring greatness and glory, or it may be a rather short lived tale of misguided ambition and undeserved arrogance. Time will tell. Personality: Thranok is an arrogant, overly confident warrior full of boasts. His tales are long and usually untrue, but he is always prepared to back up his bravado with real action. He's the brave amateur that all began as, and the keen idealist that no one ends up as. For Thranok, honour is everything - for now at least.

Meliya eyed Icarus warily for several moments, before the Elf begrudgingly slackened her grip on the hilt of her dagger. "I never thought I would say this, but I agree with the other dwarf. Give me one good reason why I should believe that what comes out of his mouth should be truth and not lies meant to send us to our deaths. Your 'inklings' on the matter are not enough to sway my judgement as of yet, young dwarf. You should not be so quick to trust those you have only just met." In the back of her mind of course, she did wonder whether it was a genuine warning, but her common sense told her not to believe it. Satyrs were born tricksters, as anyone worth their salt would know. She rather fancied taking her chances, much like Thranok seemed to be inclined to, with the goblins and worgs ahead. No doubt they could probably fight them off, there couldn't be that many surely...

Name: Lady Meliya Ardorion of Achyn Vale; often referred to as "Mel" by those who she feels closest to Physical Description: Tall and slender like many of her race, standing at six foot five inches with well-defined cheekbones and bright ice-blue eyes. Her hair is straw blonde in colour and stops just below her shoulders, with natural curls/waves through it. Attire: (apologies for the slightly huge images, Idk how to resize them :$) "Casual" or otherwise every day attire can be seen in above picture Armour: Race: Elf (Wood Elf) Gender: Female Age: 861, roughly Class: Mage Equipment: Bow and quiver (Substituted for a staff, Mel fights using magic-imbued arrows, as she is most skilled in offensive spells, tends to favour cold/ice spells the most of all) Dagger (secondary weapon, not often used) Pack (for carrying supplies e.g. food, water etc.) Can't really be counted as "equipment" per se, but she has a hawk companion (most similar in appearance to our red-tailed hawk) named Ialon, who travels with her. He is used mainly as a scout to fly ahead and scope the area, however he will protect her using his talons should the need arise. Bio: Her mother died during her birth due to complications, so Mel knows little of her except that she was a talented markswoman and good with a bow. She was instead raised by her father, who insisted upon keeping her reigned in and under constant guard, as the young she-elf had the same headstrong spirit as her mother and, being the last he had of her, feared Mel may meet a sticky end if she were allowed to pursue the part of a warrior. At first, he intended for her to remain with him in their household and she received the same general education as many non-warrioresque elven maidens, learning of history and politics (though to the politics she paid very little heed as it bored her to death). At 500 years of age it was discovered that Mel had a talent for ice elemental magic when she accidentally froze part of her father's library after getting particularly excited in one of her lessons. After this, her father allowed her to train as a mage and learn to use her talents to her advantage, through her training the she-elf just couldn't seem to get the hang of directing her magic through a staff, and when, in frustration her instructor suggested she try using a different weapon, such as a bow and arrows, they found she was most comfortable fighting with magic this way. When she graduated from her lessons, her father gifted her with her mother's old bow and quiver, which are to this day still with her, and her most prized possessions. After much nagging and persuading, Mel managed to convince her father to allow her to travel and see the world, as she grew tired of the repetitiveness of her life in the Vale and constant skirmishes with the nearby goblins, and this is how we find her currently as she travels to try and meet other races and get to know the wider world better. May work an encounter with a vampire into the rp at some point to add the vampirism curse in, we shall see how it goes I guess x'D Personality: Sarcastic | Untrusting | Loyal | Sharp-tongued/snappy | Compassionate | Sensitive Untrusting of newcomers/strangers, but once she comes to know someone or think of them as a friend you will not find a better or more loyal companion. You stick your neck out for her, she will reciprocate, essentially. Rather sharp-tongued and snappish, which can surprise some given her more lady-like upbringing in her early life; Mel is never short of a sarcastic quip or remark. It's best to learn quickly not to take most of them to heart, she often can't help it, being not a particularly patient individual. Despite being sarcastic a lot of the time, this elf can still be sensitive and compassionate to the plights of others, and is always looking to lend a hand to those in need, even if she has a peculiar way of showing it at times

The satyr could tell they didn't believe him. All this distrust over a small joke? Or was there a little prejudice involved? One dwarf seemed to take his side, but the other dwarf seemed all against him. The satyr turned to the salty dwarf, whom he realized barely came up to his waist. "I'm not sure of an exact number, but enough that the forest dwellers have given up fighting them. Captured and murdered an innocent nymph, I stopped going that way." There seemed to be a bit of sadness in his statement. The escapist that he was, the satyr would rather not face his problems. Evading them was much easier. But when he stopped to dwell on it: his home being invaded by horrific monsters, his friends being tortured and killed just for wandering too close, the feeling of helplessness at the inability to fight them and just hoping they move on soon... "I would say in the hundreds, for sure. Your party could try to fight them, but I watched a herd of centaurs try the same and die. They have blades that aren't the crude norm for such beasts; probably stolen."

Name: Rowan Blackhoof of Nowhere in Particular Age: 25 Gender: Male pecies: Satyr Classes: Bard Equipment: Possesses an enchanted pan flute. When played, all who listen are at ease. If played close enough, it can lull a person to sleep. He carries a bow and arrow with him for safety. While he rarely uses it for violence, he practices with it quite often. Personality: Rowan is a gentle creature, as far as satyrs go. His species is known for being trickers and theives, attacking those who travel through their forests and kidnapping young women from villages for their own brutish sport. Of course, in actuality, it's a fairly small part of the population that do these things, but they give the whole species a bad name. He's peaceful, not caring too much for the wars that pop up between other species. You'd have to twist his arm to get him to give a rat's ass about politics. Rowan would rather spend the day roaming the forest, picking on the occasional traveler, eating berries, and flirting with the wood nymphs. Other: Rowan is a vegetarian. Although he has more human traits than goat, sometimes Rowan will be plagued by the urge to just mindlessly chew on something. Since bubblegum probably doesn't exist in this world, he's found all sorts of creative solutions: sticks, blocks of wood, rubber, or really just about anything. He quite talented at playing the pan flute. He enjoys visitors, as long as they come peacefully. He is a very good climber. His balance is impeccable. Although not quite as promiscuous as most satyrs are known to be, Rowan isn't likely to turn down a good offer. Appearance: Rowan is a full blooded satyr. His human half has olive skin and curly, reddish brown hair. He has a bit more hair than your typical man, his arms sporting shaggy, almost furlike growth near his elbows. His form is muscular, particularly his arms. He was cursed with a boyish face, which he hides under a trimmed beard and mustache. His goofy, floppy goat ears don't help. He's rather big, standing at nearly 6'1". The horns on his head curl backwards and are very strong. His goat half is that of a tahr, with long, brown fur and smaller hooves. He's very nimble on his feet, faster than a human, and able to climb and balance uncannily well. As for clothing, Rowan often goes without. With his bottom half so heavily furred, he doesn't really have anything to hide. If he's attending a more proper occasion, he has a couple tunics to pick from in various colors. History: When Rowan was a young kid, he lived with his clan in the forests outside of a human village. The two communities lived in tense harmony, not fighting but not particularly enjoying the company. Rowan was always told to keep away from the human village, but curiosity drew him to it. When he was a teenager, he finally crossed the line and ventured into the humans' civilization to see just what they were all about. When his clan found out, they weren't happy. When Rowan refused their orders to cease and desist, they banished him from their midst. He tried to tell himself that he was better off without them, and moved on. The satyr began his travels, all across the lands. He was taught many different skills from all sorts of creatures: music with elves, baking with dwarfs, drinking with orcs, and, most importantly, archery with centaurs. In recent years, Rowan has settled down a bit. He's getting to the point in his life were he wants stability. He's spent the last year or so building himself an impressive treehouse home, with gardens of fruit and vegetables to suitable itself. Since he doesn't eat meat, he never has to worry about hunting. Although, he will occasionally brave the city to purchase goods, with his bow and arrow to protect himself.

Thranok smiled at the Satyr, displaying his own hint of mischief. "Hundreds, aye?" he said with a chuckle. "So, a dozen then? That be 'bout right." The Dwarf lowered his axe with a grunt. "Best yer come with us though, eh? That way, if yer lead us into an ambush, there be a chance that this Elf lass," he continued, nodding towards the Elf, "could plant an arra' in yer back 'fore yer a chance to merrily prance off to the sounds 'o us fightin' yer trickery personified." Turning to the Elf and the other Dwarf, Thranok indicated the Dragonborn with his free hand. "So we be half way to solvin' this mess, but what'a 'bout 'im over there. Reckon he worth enlistin'? Can never 'ave enough swords, me father always be sayin'."

Prince Thranok Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold Physical Description: Thranok is nearly as wide as he is tall; a mountainous mass of fat and muscle. Standing at four and a half feet, and smothered in copious amounts of gleaming mails, he looks like your ordinary perception of a Dwarf warrior. Shoulder length blonde hair, and a well kept neck length beard surround what looks to be an almost permanent scorn. Race: Dwarf Gender: Male Age: 163 Class: Fighter Equipment: Double headed bronze battle axe Bronze Short Sword Tower Shield (Hooked over his backpack) Backpack, containing generic travelling goods (food + water etc) Bio: Thranok, son of Mountain Lord Thranix Broadrock of Blackmoor Hold, and sixth in line to the Gemstone Throne. Sounds a mighty title, doesn't it? Alas, being sixth in line to the throne, and possessing five older brothers, means that it is unlikely that Thranok will ever achieve much greatness beyond performing his duties as a royal dignitary. Not that it would be a hard life mind, and one could certainly do worse - but for some of us, a cushioned and sheltered life free of strife and struggle is a life not worth living. Thranok is of such mind, and that's why he has formally resigned his post - against his father's wishes - and set forth into the world with nothing but his axe and a few decades of combat training to his name. He's a hardy warrior in theory, who has proven himself on the training grounds, but who has not fought that many real enemies. A few goblins met their demise at the wrong end of his axe, that's a given, but beyond this? No. Thranok is a mighty hero in the making, not a mighty hero stalking the world. His future may bring greatness and glory, or it may be a rather short lived tale of misguided ambition and undeserved arrogance. Time will tell. Personality: Thranok is an arrogant, overly confident warrior full of boasts. His tales are long and usually untrue, but he is always prepared to back up his bravado with real action. He's the brave amateur that all began as, and the keen idealist that no one ends up as. For Thranok, honour is everything - for now at least.

I wouldn't hesitate to put an arrow through him if it came to it, I assure you. the Elf muttered, shifting her weight from foot to foot restlessly as her gaze flicked from Thranok to the lizard man. He certainly was strange...she had to confess she hadn't ever seen a creature like that before in her life. Perhaps they weren't all that 'at home' in forests and woodlands, that might explain it. Meliya's gaze travelled up and down the dragonborn as her keen eyes studied him closely, the grade of his armor and the kind of weapon he carried was her best chance at trying to decipher who, or what, he was. "W-Well..." though she tried, as she spoke again she was unable to keep the nervous stutter from her voice. "...I mean, what the hell is he, exactly?! Looks like a giant, bipedal lizard or something...seems intelligent enough though, no offense meant." she added quickly in the dragonborn's direction. He was intimidating enough looking as it was, and she had no doubt he probably would have the strength advantage if it came to blow by blow, too. "Since he clearly knows how to wear armor and carry a weapon...Might make it difficult to find lodgings though, if we took him with." she pointed out. "People might be afraid of him and rather run away than take the chance with a bipedal reptile."

Name: Lady Meliya Ardorion of Achyn Vale; often referred to as "Mel" by those who she feels closest to Physical Description: Tall and slender like many of her race, standing at six foot five inches with well-defined cheekbones and bright ice-blue eyes. Her hair is straw blonde in colour and stops just below her shoulders, with natural curls/waves through it. Attire: (apologies for the slightly huge images, Idk how to resize them :$) "Casual" or otherwise every day attire can be seen in above picture Armour: Race: Elf (Wood Elf) Gender: Female Age: 861, roughly Class: Mage Equipment: Bow and quiver (Substituted for a staff, Mel fights using magic-imbued arrows, as she is most skilled in offensive spells, tends to favour cold/ice spells the most of all) Dagger (secondary weapon, not often used) Pack (for carrying supplies e.g. food, water etc.) Can't really be counted as "equipment" per se, but she has a hawk companion (most similar in appearance to our red-tailed hawk) named Ialon, who travels with her. He is used mainly as a scout to fly ahead and scope the area, however he will protect her using his talons should the need arise. Bio: Her mother died during her birth due to complications, so Mel knows little of her except that she was a talented markswoman and good with a bow. She was instead raised by her father, who insisted upon keeping her reigned in and under constant guard, as the young she-elf had the same headstrong spirit as her mother and, being the last he had of her, feared Mel may meet a sticky end if she were allowed to pursue the part of a warrior. At first, he intended for her to remain with him in their household and she received the same general education as many non-warrioresque elven maidens, learning of history and politics (though to the politics she paid very little heed as it bored her to death). At 500 years of age it was discovered that Mel had a talent for ice elemental magic when she accidentally froze part of her father's library after getting particularly excited in one of her lessons. After this, her father allowed her to train as a mage and learn to use her talents to her advantage, through her training the she-elf just couldn't seem to get the hang of directing her magic through a staff, and when, in frustration her instructor suggested she try using a different weapon, such as a bow and arrows, they found she was most comfortable fighting with magic this way. When she graduated from her lessons, her father gifted her with her mother's old bow and quiver, which are to this day still with her, and her most prized possessions. After much nagging and persuading, Mel managed to convince her father to allow her to travel and see the world, as she grew tired of the repetitiveness of her life in the Vale and constant skirmishes with the nearby goblins, and this is how we find her currently as she travels to try and meet other races and get to know the wider world better. May work an encounter with a vampire into the rp at some point to add the vampirism curse in, we shall see how it goes I guess x'D Personality: Sarcastic | Untrusting | Loyal | Sharp-tongued/snappy | Compassionate | Sensitive Untrusting of newcomers/strangers, but once she comes to know someone or think of them as a friend you will not find a better or more loyal companion. You stick your neck out for her, she will reciprocate, essentially. Rather sharp-tongued and snappish, which can surprise some given her more lady-like upbringing in her early life; Mel is never short of a sarcastic quip or remark. It's best to learn quickly not to take most of them to heart, she often can't help it, being not a particularly patient individual. Despite being sarcastic a lot of the time, this elf can still be sensitive and compassionate to the plights of others, and is always looking to lend a hand to those in need, even if she has a peculiar way of showing it at times

Originally disheartened at his companions disregard for his input, he quickly had to realize that without the inclinations into ones motives like he had there was nothing to suggest that this satyr was trustworthy; in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary! Part of him was still even wary despite having a good idea that the satyr was truthful in his warnings because trying to put someone you just met to sleep is not a great way to build trust. Listening to his companions talk about ignoring the satyr's warnings worried him, if he was indeed truthful in his warnings, like Icarus believed, then is new companions could be put in serious danger. Unfortunately it did not look like there was much he could do to prevent this.. At this point part of Icarus was tempted to take the path the satyr suggested to avoid such conflict.. but.. he scanned his companions and knew that even though he had just met them, he had a gift, a gift that he could use for good and to change the way people saw others like him in this world. Knowing that conflict was ahead was frightening for someone as young and inexperienced as Icarus, but where else would his gift be needed the most? Clenching his fist and reflecting on this he was suddenly stirred from his thoughts when the dwarf brought up the mail clad warrior who had wandered into the camp during the middle of this whole event. He had remained quite through most of the chaos and during the conversation the group was having about him, strange, maybe he was the more inquisitive type.. or maybe, Icarus chuckled at this, just shy, unlikely for someone dressed as boldly for combat as he was. Hearing the group questioning acquiring his help for the possible battle ahead Icarus beat down the resignation he felt the last time he was dismissed when he spoke and dared enter the conversation again. "Perhaps..", he started looking at all them, "you are all right. I am quite young by dwarf's standards and naive by, well.. pretty much the worlds standards and perhaps too trusting of this satyr. You are certainly more experienced in these matters I'm sure and if you believe there to be an ambush ahead then I would be more inclined to trust your opinion over mine, and..", Icarus hated lying, but how could he explain his intuitions without being labeled with the stigma so many that had his gift were labeled with? So he took the passive route and resolved that even if he couldn't prevent his caravan from entering into this coming battle, he would use his gift to help protect them.. A cold sweat came upon his brow at the thought of the future chaos and he calmingly patted the books on his side wondering whether is mother had to make the same choices during her travels. "and..", he finally continued, "then I too believe an extra blade, especially one that looks as experienced and ready as him, would be handy in the fight, but that doesn't necessarily mean we have to take him, or that he even wants to, come all the way to town with us. We could simply thank him for his help during our combat, and part ways if he so wishes afterwards, but" Icarus nodded at the warrior then faced the elf, "if it concerns you what others may thing of him, then you can simply enter town at different times then him to avoid association with him in the eyes of the villagers. Yet judging by his armor he may be a cleric of someone kind, correct me if I'm mistaken," he adds to the dragon born, "and I feel as if we have no fear of worrying of associating ourselves with someone of that honorable position."

Name: Icarus Shadesong Race: Dwarf Physical Description: Like your typical dwarf he is quite stocky with broad thick shoulders that have been finely toned from many hard years of working in his fathers forge. His beard his far too short to be braided like most dwarfs and is actually groomed quite close to his face; this being due to safety hazards within the forge(Icarus learned at quite a young age how flammable hair can be). His hair was almost a fine blondish white, quite rare among dwarves, yet the ash and smoke from in the forge has seemed to almost permanently left a layer of soot turning his almost oddly bleached looking hair into a dirty blonde. His eye's are a mix between blue and green and always had a look of inquisitiveness in them, a trait he was told he had received from his mother, a wandering healer. Forging no only requires a steady hand but perfect posture, which has given him the habit of having an almost rigidly stiff back, thus giving him the appearance of being taller than he actually is(despite being only average height for a dwarf). This rigid way of walking contrast with the loose and inquisitive nature he carries himself with. Gender: Male Age: 24 (Very young for a dwarf!) Class: Healer(With a mix of Divination/Conjuration in there) Equipment: -A large and sturdy two handed forging hammer, used for hammering down thick blocks of metal to flat sheets fast. A little unwieldy in combat since it really isn't made for that purpose, but can pack quite a punch due to its weight. -Very small craftsman hammer used on small tool working -Leather smith's gear that provides decent protection from whether elements -White traveling cloak with family crest emblazoned on the back -Backpack of supplies like rations, water, small knife, pair of tongs, rope, blanket, and flint + steel. Bio: Born into a small darven mountain mining clan, his father was one of the few local smithies and his mother was a wandering healer who seemed to work wonders even with little amounts of herbs or potions at her disposal and sometimes was seen talking to what only looked like an empty room of shadows. Her mother had a brief romance with his father, Gruve Stromschlag, and only stayed long enough to give birth to Icarus and then suddenly vanished. She left behind a pile of books with a single note saying: "To my son, the only gift I am able to give you." Icarus spent years in his father's forge repairing much of the local's tools and learning to be quite an adept craftsman, and when he became old enough to read in his spare time gorged himself on the various books his mother had left him. The books were mainly on healing, but occasionally he read one on spirituality and on magical rituals. Icarus used this mew knowledge to assist miners that had been injured during their work in the more dangerous parts of the caverns. Yet he noticed when helping people he could see strange white lights surround those more grievously injured, and on even more rare occasions, voices coming from recently deceased bodies. His clan was a superstitious one; so he kept these events to himself. As time passed and he grew older, these events occurred more often. Once during a sickness outbreak where he was treating a local baker had become so ill his death became inevitable; Icarus saw the white light began floating off the man and almost felt a connection to it. yet he felt a sense of longing from it, a sense of desperation and as if almost by instinct Icarus willed it to remain connected to the body. Icarus felt himself being drained from this "connection" to the light but saw improvement in the man so he continued. The next day, after Icarus had passed out after a few hours of this exertion the man woke up; fully recovered. It was like a miracle, but Icarus did not speak of what he had done for he had a sinking feeling about what it was. Necromancy. Icarus realized what the stories of his mother and her strange talks with shadows and miracle healings were. She was a necromancer, but weren't they supposed to be evil? All she had done.. was help people? Maybe.. just maybe necromancers weren't.. necessarily evil? With this revelation Icarus was frightened, but endeavored to test his new found powers in secret; he began to listen to the voices near the graveyards and hear their moans, he tried to heal his own wounds and scratches from the forge without anything but this "energy", and as he experimented his powers grew. One morning a massive cave in several miners were killed. The clan gathered to mourn their dead and has Icarus arrived he noticed one spirit standing near his wife who was wailing over his body. Without thinking and so distraught by this woman's wails Icarus used his new powers to make the spirit visible to her. She stopped suddenly as the spirit of her dead husband held her for one last time and then with a shimmer disappeared. The clan was shocked by this display of power and immediately turned against Icarus. Only due to his long time of healing their injured did they allow him to gather some of his supplies before being exiled. His own father now looked at him with disgust as he gathered his things. Icarus gathered some tools and one of his mother's cloaks that she had wrapped up the books she left for him and set off into the world. He changed his clan name to shadesong after the stories of his mother talking to shadows, and donned the cloak that had the crest of a phoenix embroidered on the back. Icarus now wanders from town to town doing handy work or healing in exchange for lodging or food and is always in search of a good library to further his studies in his arts over death. Icarus hopes to find his mother and one day found a school for white necromancers that use their influence over life and death for good. Personality: Icarus us incredibly studious and loves to get his hands on any books, bits of lore, or artifacts he can find. He is a bit wary of talking about his past and abilities due to his foul treatment from those he loves, but deep down is incredibly friendly, loyal, and appreciative of those that can look past his abilities to who he really is. He can get caught up in seeing all the spirits and emotions of those around him or just in one of his newest books so he is considered a bit of a spacey person that gets distracted easily.

art by Yu Yiming please see the intchk for RP information. ♫ Fog rolled white through the village at dawn, just like the Weatherman had said it would. Technically the fog was only clouds passing through the Island-in-the-Sky, bumping and breaking against the high forests and jutting stones, covering everything in a soft, quiet blanket of mist. Stillness surrounded the village of Heron. Something huge and dark floated past the sun, swimming peacefully through the dim morning clouds -- a skywhale on its lonely way to the mountains. It made no sound as it dipped its tail, and the clouds swirled and parted in its wake. The sun rose a little higher, the clouds dissipated, and the Weatherman's green balloon rose up high into the clear summer sky. The gold-trimmed eaves of the king's palace shimmered in the sunlight, and the colors of the marketplace gleamed as the peddlers raised their tents and awnings. The music of a flute rose up out of the village square: the flower peddler played each morning to attract customers to her wild orchids and violet roses. A red wooden carriage swung overhead, clicking its way along a cable that led high into the cloud-tipped rocks, where farmers and miners waited to trade. A couple of hang-gliders swooped and dipped around the carriage, narrowly missed the Weatherman, scattered a shimmering flock of golden windfish, and disappeared between the high forested rocks. Today promised to be a beautiful day.

art by John Thacker THE CAST Kelari Halder Blin "Brytag" Alborse Rahna Altema Lee Silvertongue Eli Wyn Forrest Everfree Gaius Stronurr Braum Jormungandr Thema Absher Blank Aurora Philman Tivo Sol Sera Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt

Gaius Stronurr The Marketing District This has to be the hundredth time! The market district was abuzz with eager civilians, their pockets overflowing with gold as they rushed past one another like an army of ants. It was all to easy for the local thieves to pluck a coin or two from their hard-working peers, but one mischeivous little scoundrel was a little more direct in his motives. "I'm so sorry, Tiffany! I'd say it won't happen again, but ah- H-Hey!" Gaius blurted as he felt Forrest's wrist attempt to squirm free of his iron grasp. The armored golem of a man tightened his grip and yanked the plucky little thief, "But I'm sure we both know that it's going to happen again! Ha..Ha.." With a nervous laugh, the head of his royal highness' guard handed a particularly ornate lollipop back to the candy-stall's operator while keeping Forrest as immobile as possible. His metal helmet creaked as he turned to face Forrest, holding his arm taut with perhaps just a little too much force. Despite how much he despised punishing criminals, Gaius had just about had it with Forrest's shenanigans, by now. Without any further delay, he pulled Forrest away from the stall, keeping as quiet as he could manage behind the slits of his helmet.

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

To the sky revealed and to eastwards abound. To the land revered with fertile ground. Forever and ever will this song be... bad. Thema sighed. No matter what she wrote, no matter what she played, it was all the same. Just some pretty sounding words. Nothing important. Nothing original. Whatever she sang about was already sung by people generations before her. It wasn't really her feelings upon this land, either. In all honesty, she didn't care for it. Everything turned out to be so streamline, so to speak. Wake, work, sleep until you die. It was boring; she didn't want to become some sort of farmer or merchant, slaving away just to live. In all honesty, she just wanted to be remembered. Thema placed her lute around her hips. She was supposed to be working, though, playing songs from tavern to tavern could hardly be called a job. It was infrequent that she would get a job playing at a tavern. It was enough to make ends meet. Barely. Without much further thought, she left to go to wander the town once more, looking for any sort of muse. 1543 3 3568542 aquaknight 3 yrs ago 270 Gaius Everfree The short brunette struggled to free his arm from the giant's grasp, but the giant's grip was far too strong for Forrest to break free of. How he got into such a predicament, it was simple. He was hungry and his sweet tooth was aching for something nice and sugary and unluckily for him Tiffany was making her overly fancy yet delicious candies again which was singing it's siren's song to his sweet tooth. That on it own wasn't bad actually it would be amazing if he had money, but he didn't as he spent all of it getting more candies from another stall, so to Forrest it was a no brainer what he should do, which was to steal the fancy treat and enjoy its sweet sugaryness. Normally most people wouldn't have even noticed him taking such a thing but as it happens to be, the man in the tin can who is holding him prisoner was by chance was doing his civic duties as a soldier and caught him red handed in the act, quite literally as the case would be as the candy's red sprinkles started to melt in his free hand. Normally running from a man in full armor would be easy but Gaius moves a lot faster then one should, the tight grip was evidence of that. Normally Gaius would've let him go by now and would then give him a lecture about not stealing and how he should be an honest person who doesn't steal, which even if Forrest took to heart wouldn't last more then a few hours before the craving to steal came back. So it was a hopeless endeavor on both ends. As gaius was talking to Tiffany, Forrest tried again to break free of the Man's grip, it didn't work. Forrest's arm was almost yanked off from it's socket when Gaius retaliated with a strong yank back of his arm, the only sounds Forrest produced was a small yelp which was more out of shock then pain, Forrest almost fell on his face but caught himself before he embarrassed himself even more in front of Tiffany. When Forrest looked up to Gaius helmet covered face he could tell the giant was glaring at him beneath his mask, so Forrest returned the glare with a sheepish smile before the giant, who suddenly started to pull the shorter man away from the sweets stall silently or as silently a man in a tin can can with a shorter man trashing about in his grip. After trashing about for a bit Forrest just decided to give up and just slumped down to the ground and let the Giant drag him down the road. If he's in trouble he might as well make his punisher suffer with him. By annoying him! 1543 4 3572224 acromantula 2 yrs ago 147 It was going to be a busy day, Lee thought to herself as she flipped through the orders she had yet to complete, a stack of finished projects at her right just waiting to be shipped off. Her Father hadn't needed her help today so she remained in her own shop, the brightly painted sign swinging in the breeze, the tinkling of silver bells mixing in with the laughter of children in the streets. Lee looked out of the large shop window, giving herself a minute to take in the good weather before standing and setting the orders down. Turning she headed to the back of the shop, looking for the materials she'd need. This particular customer had requested something quite specific and Lee hoped that she'd be able to capture what it was they wanted. Often times, people did that. Just came to her with an idea and asked her to put it on fabric for them to wear. It was both humbling and flattering to sometimes see people walk around in her work, or have it hung up for the public to see. This particular piece required a large variety of blue thread and Lee realized as she looked through the thousands of spools, that she was running low on one specific shade of blue. Raging waters couldn't possibly be properly illustrated without ever every shade of blue present. It simply wouldn't do, Lee thought as she shook her head. She'd either have to head to the market or call on someone to deliver it to her. But work needed to be started nonetheless. So Lee grabbed the pincushion of needles, an appropriately long strip of dark grey material and headed towards the front of her shop. She always loved working outside under the sun rather than inside where, while it was cool, she felt a bit isolated. Sitting down, Lee threaded the needle with navy thread and began working, rolling the sleeves of her white blouse up to her elbows. The needle slipped in and out easily as she sang an old song her mother used to sing, not caring if people on the street heard her loud and clear. In a light, silken white tent, on an embroidered rug, I'm alone. I sit and sing here. Singing to the tune of old-times. Ah... Lullaby, sleep tight. Winds won't breathe now, don't you worry. Creatures sleep, and birds are tired. Sleeping warriors and children. Sleep, oh mountains, sleep, oh rivers. Ah...Lullabye, sleep tight."

NAME - Thema Absher ABSTRACT - A washed-up bard looking for inspiration. APPEARANCE Thema stands at 5'3". Her hair is almost always tied up. She has considerably darker skin compared to everyone else and tends to wear extremely light and loose clothing, even in the winter. She wears quite ornate jewelry, however, they are all heirlooms from her mother. DETAILS Personality: Thema is a musician and quite a good one at that. She tends to be really jokey and can't take a lot of stuff seriously. Her main goal in life is to find a song that truly can state how she feels about the world; that, however, is hard because while she can write lyrics, said lyrics don't quite have an emotional impact (to her, at least). She also sucks at gliding. Like, really hard. She's okay at gliding, but doesn't know how to land. Equipment: Thema's Glider - While it appears to be normal, the thing has been completely destroyed and rebuilt multiple times. As such, the frame breaks extremely easily, but it can be repaired within minutes. Thema's Lute - Plays nice sounds. Tunable. Thema plays it quite well. Ornate Jewelry - A heirloom from Thema's mother. Looks nice and is made from rather rare metals. It doesn't appear to have any immediate use.

Aurora ____________________________________________________________________________ She filled with pride as she stood over the edge. Her eyes looking at the sky as the orange tinge filled the dark palette. She breathed, sighing in relief as she felt the soft cool wind dancing against her skin. Her eyes glinted as the sun began to rise. She smiled, waving towards the yearning sun. The young girl turned and stretched out her locked bones. Getting into more awkward positions and stopping after they popped. Her thoughts lingered towards her family, she cursed under her breath and hastily returns to the guild. The hill was steep but not too steep she would be able to jump from tree to tree, her grip tightening each time she'd grip the bark. Her legs pushing off the trunk of each tree she passed to climb faster up the hill. Soon enough the girl would reach the peak of the hill, she eyed the guild hall. Near a small river in which she could jump into. She leaped over the side of the hill and into the other, running down it. She noticed that the hillside was clear and free of trees, simply grass and some other flowers grew on it. Her arms were wide open, embracing the wind as she ran down the side of the hill. Her steps were long and wide, exerting less energy as she made her way down. Jumping from a very high ledge was never a good idea but... she never seemed to really care. Aurora felt as if she was floating, laughing on the way down. Her body spun with excitement as her hair danced with the wind. Not minding that her skirt was lifted all the way up, though she wore leggings. She laughed once again at the thought, she landed in a small river. Only about 11ft. A cold touch filled her senses as she dove into the river. The water was harsh and seemingly solid as she landed but gladly went through it. She opened her eyes a blue color filling her sight. The girl could feel the ground caress her foot, she was deep enough. Her arms waved pushing herself back into the surface. She climbed out with hefty breaths, a lingering feeling from the cold river stayed with her as she climbed out. Bystanders eyed her weirdly as she did, most scoffing as they continued their day. The girl presumed that she was the most annoying person in town, she loved that title with all her heart. She laughed at the thought though also winced at the lingering pain. The girl sighed as she leaned against the platform citizens walked on, her hair on her shoulder as she rested there. " Hey Dawn! " Aurora waved towards the young man who glared daggers at her.

NAME: Aurora Philman ABSTRACT: A young curious filled girl of whom attempts to enjoy life at its fullest. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: The Philman are your normal, everyday mercenary guild. Aurora of whom was abandoned at a young age was adopted by the guild during its less thriving years. Through the Philman, the young girl learned a various amount of skills her foster-parents deemed useful. Though, Aurora having an a different opinion she took her training in a different way and leaned more to the intelligent side believing in the power of knowledge. As years go and becoming a woman of age she is chosen to become the predecessor of the mercenary guild but declines the request believing that there is a person more reliable to the Philman. So with that ending, she decides to leave the group with a yearning to explore the unknown world, though Aurora still receives support and aid from the Philman if needed. In the present time, Aurora now strives to make her foster-parents proud and gain a legacy over time.

krsh-krshrk The sound of a scythe cutting through another bushel of wheat sounded as Blank finished his part of the harvest. He stood straight and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, shaking off droplets of sweat as he started making his way back to the farmhouse. Leo, Linda!" He called, opening the back door and retrieving his discarded shirt, "I finished up. If you need me for anything else, better speak up before I head off!" He stopped for a minute waiting for a response, and when he didn't receive one he trotted through the house to the front door, tying the sleeves of his shirt around his waist and grabbing a small loaf of bread and his sword belt as he passed. "I'll see you tonight then!" He called back, already rearranging his shirt and belt to fit comfortably and running out the door. --- It took some time to reach the village at a jog, so when he arrived he had already cooled down enough that he was wearing his shirt again. As he walked between the buildings, he noticed people he rocognized, and thought on the irony of knowing most of these people by name, and yet having no clue as to his own. Since he had found himself here two years previous, he had spent almost all of his free time in this town, getting to know everyone in the hopes that someone would recognize him, but although he could now be comfortable around anyone in the village, he still had no idea who he was or how he had wound up here. He shook his head, clearing away his dreary thoughts as he passed Gaius and Forrest having one of their disagreements, and focused on his destination. He was on his way to the Castle training grounds, since he had gotten permission the week before to train with the royal knights.

NAME: Blank ABSTRACT: A mysterious teen who crashed on the Island. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: History: Two years ago, Blank crashed on the Island riding a strangely shaped hang glider, carrying only his bag of supplies and his sword. He was taken in by one of the families after admitting he had no memories, but since then only a vague sense of some purpose has returned to him. Personality: Blank is quiet and thoughtful, but kind hearted. He might be a warrior, since he has some skill with the sword, but he knows as little as a newborn, relying on instinct to interact with people. He tries to avoid contact with people he doesn't know, is almost adorably shy, and is always happy to let someone else take the lead. Equipment: Sword Bag containing dried food and water. Strange hang glider.

Tivo Sol Location: At the top of Sol ObservatoryTM (really just a large, abandoned observatory seven kilometers away from Heron). Tivo shifted about in the outdoor hammock, emitting a weary groan now and then, particularly whenever the rays of the glaring morning sun struck the surface of his eyelids. Whatever shade the leaves from the oak tree provided proved to be no longer helpful, as the angle which the sun rose would ensure that his face would receive a hearty dosage of solar blaze regardless of how he positioned himself in the beige hammock. Well, now that the day was clearly started, he decided that he should just go ahead and get up. The chirping birds nested in the branches above him surely wouldn't let him go back to sleep, either. Tivo swung his legs over and off the hammock, setting his feet down onto the long grass. Before he stood, the boy took some time to carefully peruse over the state of his belongings, which had been set near the oak tree's trunk. "Glider . . . Hoe . . . And pack?" Tivo pushed himself off the hammock and ambled over to his shoulder-slung bag, swiftly going to kneel down, open the pack, and sift through the contents. Notebook, snacks, clothes, and . . . Yeah, it's good. He let out a sigh of relief and stood back up. Being careful was a must when resting around these ruins, especially when you actually had belongings. Besides some homeless individuals, all sorts of unsavory characters tended to populate the observatory since it wasn't too closely guarded or looked at by the guard of the town. Well, actually, only when they're absolutely certain there's a wanted criminal hanging around there. Otherwise, it's all pretty quiet for the most part. Tivo turned around to face the direction where the town of Heron rested. He had to admit that the view was quite nice up here. The sea of clouds beneath and between the observatory and the town was quite attractive. It might take a few runs, but Tivo was somewhat positive that he could eventually manage to build a house up at the top of the observatory and live there. However, he dismissed the thought upon realization that each time he left he would have to take all his belongings to ensure that none of the other impoverished inhabitants conjured up an idea to discreetly steal things away from him. It might be rude, too, considering it wasn't really his property -- it's public. For now he would just settle with his crudely-made forest cottage. Might as well head over now, he thought. Tivo sauntered over to his belongings and began equipping everything that he could. He strapped the hoe to his back with a few lengths of leather which snaked its way around his waist, tied his pack down onto the main body of the glider, and then unfolded its biplane wings. The teen, before taking off, suddenly realized that he was still wearing his typical pajamas. With a dull shrug, he came to the conclusion that other people wouldn't really care and that these feel way too comfortable to take off. Today would be a pajama day, it seems. And with that, he heaved the glider upwards, ran towards the edge of the platform, and took off towards his destination of Heron.

NAME: Tivo Sol ABSTRACT: Friendly, carefree boy who wholeheartedly enjoys the outdoors and the company of others -- and the opportunity to escape from Heron to go on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. 5'6", 17 years old, athletic thin build, black dreadlocks and caramel-colored skin, dark brown eyes. DETAIL: Besides the clothes on his back, Tivo carries a shoulder-slung pouch which holds a pencil, a notebook, various wheat-based snacks. He carries his glider on his back along with a triangular-headed furrowing hoe, both haphazardly strapped to his back with a multitude of make-shift leather straps.

Blin "Brytag" Alborse Eli Wyn Blin's eyes opened, the light outside was just creeping in through the window. He was well rested and so quickly got up to check the time, he slowly opened the door to peek at the small clock at the end of the hall. "A full five minutes early," he went back inside grinning to himself as he went to wash and get dressed. Elspeth, his mother, would already be up and out at the fields today, he had to drop her lunch off to her later. Jerad, his father, would be due at the new house construction in about an hour. All of his family were early starters. Stepping into the simple kitchen he made himself and his mother lunch and snacked on a spare roll, before leaving the house to check and prepare his monster of a glider. The thing was huge, fully half again as wide as the other swift flying gliders around but not as agile. Heavily reinforced struts and two large metal bars on each wing to hold his leather bags of deliveries. Everything was fine with it, the day looked to be another sunny day. He packed his gear and stood at the edge of the island, watching the skywhale demolish a cloud as the sun finally appeared in all its glory. He took out his note book and made a note to ask Sir Gaius about dragon riding mounts. Blin put his book away and dived off the island edge, free to soar the skies. He briefly shut his eyes as he imagined riding the skywhale, delivering massive goods or ferrying passengers. Some innate sense made him snap back to reality, and straight into a cold sweat. His glider was unwieldy and he barely missed the cable car with passengers. "Sorreeeeeee" he yelled back at them. Wait till Eli found out about that, he grinned. Blin landed at Heron island, took his first batch of morning deliveries and flew off. In an hour, he successfully did his first run and counted off twenty boring routines that always happened. Waving at Mrs Kurtis, avoiding Mr Hugles' white furred pet (nobody knew what it was) and all of it was merging into one long day of boredom. He needed something exciting and that only started with his second batch of deliveries. He flew back to the grocery store, now the milk had arrived it was time to visit his friend Eli and help out the school. The glider was more slower than he used to, Blin paid much more careful attention after his near miss. He eventually made it safely and landed out of sight behind the school. Unpacking the milk he waited for Eli, hoping he wasn't going to be late. "Yo," Eli yelled out once spotting Blin, "Good morning, bro." Apparently Eli cared little not to yell around school grounds. He seemed too cheerful for this time of the day. How was that humanly possible? At least he was on time. "Hi. Milk for the kiddies Eli, glad you could pick it up for your sister." Blin grinned at him, and then got a reply back that made him slap his forehead. "You still up for that delivery for my sis? The library prepared everything, you'd just need to bring it to her." Eli asked, unable to hold still for a split second. "We still meeting up for lunch? If so, I need to convince a certain someone to race me, the day started out a bit slow. Oh- Remind me to tell you about a super duper dream I had yesterday, an epic journey filled with dragons and girls and excitement! You were in it too - it was awesome. I'll bring my mom's dessert to repay you for making this delivery for me. Man, you're a life saver." "Try dodging the cable-car sometime Eli. I'll meet you at the farm later then, I'll visit the library after." He grinned at his friend, pretty sure he knew who Eli was going to race. Blin took off from the school and flew to his two remaining contracts of the morning, he always liked to finish with them. They both fueled his imagination for the rest of the day. He landed at the jewelers shop, not finding Lee there he walked to her shop. Blin was a little surprised and very pleased that she was outside and singing. Captivated he stood listening, until she finished. He blinked a few times before coughing shyly "M..morning Miss Lee, I..erm...I'm here to pick up for Kelari." Blin still stood outside the little gate, tightly gripping the wood in case he floated off into the clouds. When Blin arrived at Kelari's tattoo parlour. It always saddened him a little whenever he visited. Her tales left him in rapture, so much that he wanted a tattoo of his own. Both his parents amd her refused, at least until he was eighteen. Less than two years left, it was just too long to wait. Blin knocked on the door "Hello? I have your paints, Kelari." He knew he was teasing her when he called them paints but, he still hoped for one of her tales of wonder. Finished for the morning with twenty minutes to spare, Blin was pleased that the deliveries were all finished. He flew to his favorite tree on a small island and waited for his daydream to arrive. He had a good half hour, just enough time to try catch that evil sprite that lived here and stole his lunch. He made it to the count of eleven before his daydream took over. Blin snored quietly. The clouds burst as the Mighty Kalikorix flew out into the dazzlingly sunlight, its golden scales shone in the bright sunlight and the vibrant multicoloured wings and tail fins positively glowed. Kalikorix's eyes turned from black to light blue as sky became clear, and then suddenly he banked left and downwards as Lord Brytag the Brave steered the powerful beast towards an island. "So close Kal, my friend. We'll surprise the mercs and rescue the princess." Brytag slapped Kalikrix's nexk scales, his armoured form gleamed in the sunlight and a great two-handed sword sat at his back. Kalikorix almost seemed to grin at his words, they both dove and flew faster. The mercenaries were all camped, still half asleep from their raid into the kingdom. There in centre, Brytag spotted the white dressed princess, surrounded by the Red Guard. Kalikorix roared, his wings casting rainbow hues that blinded the mercenaries. The great skydragon breathed a golden cloud that dispersed the armoured men around the Red Guard. Brytag took the gap offered and dismounted. "Scatter the rest Kal, I got this." An imposing sight, Brytag stood at over six feet tall. He was even more heroic when he drew his greatsword and waded into the Red Guard, literally throwing them aside as he made his way to the princess. "Save me Lord Brytag, you're my Hero." the princess cried out. Brytag, spurned on by her cries, quickly dealt with the remaining guards. He scanned the camp and saw that Kalikorix had also made short work off the remaining mercenaries. He sheaved his sword and untied the princess, "My beautiful Princess Lee, it will always be my duty and privilege to aid you in any way I can." The princess closed her eyes and leaned in close to him, her face turned up slightly. Blin awoke in a light sheen of sweat, wondering what had just happened.

NAME: Kelari Halder ABSTRACT: Gregarious tattoo artist with a penchant for poetry and epics that moonlights as a library attendant. APPEARANCE: 6' feet tall and slender, blue tattoos of angular symbols and shapes on forehead and over and under her left eye. DETAILS: Strangers and townspeople know her as amiable and helpful, friends know her as clever and maybe a little crude. Loves to be in the company of others and enjoys meeting new people. Has been known to be quite talkative with customers at the tattoo parlor, if they'll let her.

About to start on another song, Lee opened her mouth, her hand that reached for a new thread stopping short as she heard a familiar voice. "Blin! Always a pleasure to see you so early on in the day," she said as she paused, sticking the needle into the pincushion before standing and brushing down her pants, the burgundy fabric splattered with white and blue flowers that glittered in the sunlight. "Paints...Kelari..ah yes, one moment please," she said, heading to the back of her shop and searching through the organised clutter, humming under her breath as she did so. Eventually she did find the paints. Brilliant shades that she'd worked hours on perfecting. Handing them to Blin the woman smiled. "Thank you. I was wondering though, if perhaps you could find out for me if anyone is carrying light blue thread? I'm in dire need of some. Two to three spools will do," she said, thinking aloud but stopping herself, not wanting to ramble on and on. She had a tendency to do so. Lee eyed Blin with slight curiosity, always having found the boy to be both amusing and interesting. As for the name Kelari, she'd heard it spoken a few times. The woman was responsible for beautiful artwork that graced the body. Lee's eyes fell to her own hands just a moment, leaving and looking back up to the young man almost instantly. Though she could do good work with those hands, they were battered and scarred and if Lee were to ever get a tattoo, it would probably be one that covered her hands. Starting at her fingers and fading out towards her elbow. But that would only bring more attention to the marred flesh and that was something Lee definitely did not want. When Blin left Lee exhaled, returning to her place in front of her shop, picking up the needle and starting her work again. Later in the day she'd have to work on a hair ornament and a few rings. Rings were the trickiest business, the gems so little and easily lost at the smallest jerk of the hand. When she was taking a break from the embroidery she worked on the rings first, eyes narrowed in concentration and her short hair tucked behind her ears so it wouldn't get in her way. That she did inside the shop, in front of the window though, wringing her left hand and shaking her hair out as she finished the smaller ring. Perhaps it was for a bride. That would be sweet, Lee thought to herself as she admired the gems chosen. They sat and shone brightly, the band gold and the gems a pale green mixed with deep purple. Precious stones Lee had been asked to crack out of a boulder the size of her head earlier that week. The effort and the new cuts on her forearm and fingers were worth it, though Lee should start looking for a solution to that slight clumsiness.

NAME: Lee Silvertongue ABSTRACT: A painfully creative young woman that has a tendency to get along better with inanimate objects and materials than people. APPEARANCE: Twenty-three years old, 5'8''. Pale with thick,short, wavy black hair that just touches her jawline. Dark eyes and a lean physique. Scars along her fingers and hands. DETAIL: History: Currently, she helps out at her Father's shop and maintains her own on the side. Lee works with precious stones and gems for the most part, polishing, cutting them and engraving them. She's very good with her hands, using her skills for a variety of jobs that range from decorating the hilts of weapons to cutting the smallest gems for jewelry. Her own shop has more to do with the art she creates with paints and her thread, trinkets she makes out of colored glass and sits out for people to see. She rarely goes outside but if she does she tends to either spend the time alone of with her two younger twin brothers and teaching them about their surroundings or collecting materials for her new project. Her father is almost always busy and her mother passed away of an illness shortly after the twins were born, so she takes on the maternal role in their home. Personality: Lee isn't against being with others or conversing with them but she is soft-spoken and worries too much about what people may think of her. She prefers to stay in her or her father's shop, singing to herself as she works through the day. While she's a hard worker she doesn't mind to throw the occasional afternoon away to just laze around under the warm sun. She's caring and fairly intelligent, but can be very protective when it comes to her family.

Eli Wyn "Try dodging the cable-car? What was that all about?" Eli scratched his head as he watched Blin take off. He seemed to glide a bit slower today and Eli couldn't help but wonder what was that all about. He'd have to remember to ask him about it later. And he didn't even flinch when Eli mentioned his epic dream that had girls and a dragon in it. What a shame. Then it dawned on him, like a bulb lighting up above his head, "Dodging the cable-car? Dodging the cable-car! That. Sound. Awesome!" As he stood there, alone in front of the school, talking to himself - he noticed a faint glimpse of what was probably a skywhale in the distance. There was no way he was going to catch up to it before it reaches the mountains. "One day I'll ride on your back, just you watch," Eli threw his fist in the air, as if swearing a revenge on a mortal enemy. But then a grin came back to his face. He had a race to attend, of course. Actually, he still had to convince her to race him, but that was just a small detail. Eli hadn't done much at all today, in terms of excitement. He woke up early, went to the school and helped his sister with preparations for this week's classes. For some reason, his sister liked having him around, even if they bickered all the time. She mentioned that he brings good energy to the school and fires up the kids to stay in school and not end up reckless like him. Pfft. She was teasing him, of course. Probably. Maybe. "Enough. Time to make the best out of this day - watch yourself, Heron, Eli's coming through at the speed of light! Besides, he was standing here for far too long, doing nothing but talking to himself. If his assumption was correct, Rahna was probably at the apothecary - helping her mother with the morning shift? He hoped the assumption was right, otherwise he'd have to glide high and low to find her. Not that he'd mind. Hm. Maybe it would be better if his assumption was wrong. Deciding the time for talking was over, Eli rushed over to his glider, the pointy thing with two tribal wings painted on its actual wings. A wingception - term he coined for the amazing design. As he prepared to dive off the edge, he looked down - wondering how far would he actually fall down should he mess something up. It was a ritual he did. A small sign that he wasn't actually completely out of his mind. But a moment of sanity had passed and he jumped off, immediately feeling the rush of wind in his hair. Now that was the feeling he was looking for. Reminded him of the fact that he was alive. The fastest route towards Rahna would, by his calculations, be through the market district. There was a fine shortcut there, but it meant that he'd have to fly a bit lower than usual. Quickly he calculated the risk in his head of actually hurting someone. It was minimal, at most he'd cause a stronger wind and something would fall of some nearby stall, but even that wasn't as plausible. On the other hand, he'd probably look epic as he soared through the sky - breaking out of a nearby cloud and rushing down to sweep ladies of their feet while all the gentlemen looked on in awe. Yes. That was it. That was the plan. Of course, Eli would soon get a reminder that the plans never go exactly as planned. Or at all. As he crashed into the cloud, his mind sent him an alarming note - he wasn't wearing any glasses. What would prove to be a minor setback. A temporary blindness. One of those usually equaled in the lack of control of his glider, which wasn't on a high level to begin with. And that usually equaled in a bump. Or a graze. "Or a crash!" Eli blurted out as he regained his vision just in the nick of time not to crash straight into a man in a can dragging along a shorter man down the road. It was a close call, one that probably shaved off ten years of his life right there. Damn, out of all people he wouldn't want to crash into, a knight was definitely somewhere near the top of the list. Following his sister, Blin and Rahna. It was a while back that Eli made a note never to crash into one of his close friends. An oath, if you will. After today, he might make one for the knights as well. Barely getting a hang of the glider again, he managed to put out a thumb up for the two people to see - the best he could do to say sorry. There was no stopping now - the show must go on. After a couple more minutes of gliding, he finally reached his destination. He exhaled as he looked around, a huge grin resting on his face. The apothecary was in sight and all he had to do was walk in, put on his charm face and look for Rahna. Easy enough. At least it would be if he wasn't a bit ashamed about coming to the apothecary all the time, for all those herbs and bandages and whatnot. He might as well be their most frequent customer. Considering how he wasn't always paying on time, it was normal for him to be a bit embarrassed. But, instead of acting like a normal human being, he pushed the door slightly open and poked his head. "Hey Rahna, you here?" He asked without even soaking in the surroundings. Quite charming indeed.

NAME: Eli Wyn - Age: 17 - Height: 5'8'' ABSTRACT: Adrenaline junkie that tries to make the best out of every situation - a ball of caffeine. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: - Personality: Legend goes that Eli fell on his head when he was a small boy, at least that's what his older sister tells people when she needs to explain why Eli did whatever stupid thing he did. It's not as if Eli is not a smart cookie - he may not be the smartest one in a jar, but he ain't stupid, just a little bit on the crazy side. He likes all things that bring that tingling gut feeling to the table. The more butterflies in his stomach he feels, the better. And since almost nothing of note happens in the village, he needs to make things happen. People call his stunts idiotic, crazy, suicidal... but mostly idiotic - but Eli does what he needs to do to bring at least some excitement into his life. Why would you simply go around a fence and enter through a gate if you can jump over it? Without using hands, of course. - History: Eli often helps his sister out with her job of being a pre-school teacher. Well, he is merely an errand boy, going to fetch whatever materials she needs and bringing them back to her. Often being a few hours late. It gives him something to do and it works as a good excuse for him not being in the house. And he gets to interact with people, which is always awesome in his book. Interestingly enough, it is his mother that allowed him to help his sister without him having to ask twice. As far as Eli knows, she feels nostalgic about the days when she was as carefree as him. EQUIPMENT: -a hand-glider | "expertly" modified by the "king of gliders", Eli, so it can go a faster, but it makes it that much harder to turn. Worth it. - a leather bag and a can of soda | Sky Kola - best refreshment on this side of the sky Blin "The Bro" Alborse - one of the closest friends Eli has. Although they are not overly similar personality wise, there are certain things that make them compatible. And man, he has a vivid imagination - making him instawesome. Rahna A.K.A The Bestie - he wouldn't trade her for all the excitement in the world. That tells you a lot. Forrest - once stole his sweet roll. Still owes him a sweet roll. Gaius A.K.A Don't Crash Into Him - otherwise he'll yell. Aurora - the girl Eli once mistakenly called his girlfriend. She hates his guts now. At least that's what she claims. Kelari - A master of the tattoo art, incredibly talented and artistic. Admires her work. Damn - he wants that tattoo. Lee - ?? Braum - ?? Thema - ?? Blank - "That handsome bastard that came out of nowhere." Tivo - ?? Sera - ?? Nikki - There is a fairly peculiar relationship with Nikki. Started on a really high note, with a small, five year old Eli idolizing Nikki. Then it took a sharp turn because Eli is, as everyone knows, the King of Stunts - considering their personalities, that was reason enough for a fairly hot rivalry to arose between the two. Legend goes they are still competing to this very day.

Gaius Stronurr The Marketing District Not again. Not a god-damn chance. Nope. No way! "Get up. Eh, get up!" Gaius alarmed, stopping several yards before reaching the strewn path that lined the edge of Lee Silvertongue's stall, "We're not doing this again, Forrest. I seriously don't have time for this! I'm due for an audience with the king!" Despite his protests, Forrest did not budge and inch from his rag-doll. The stubborn thief had made his capture a chore. How annoying! Gaius had no intention of wasting anymore time on Forrest than he absolutely needed to, though. With his visor angled up towards a neighboring island, he let free an exasperated sigh and loosened his grip to allow Forrest his freedom. "I'm not dragging your sorry ass all the way through Heron today. Not that it would do you much good if I did, anyways. Keep away from Tiffany's stall, lest another one of my men end up running into you," Gaius parroted with his back turned to Forrest, like he had many times in the past. Although it was slightly different every time he hadn't the patience to put up with Forrest's tomfoolery, it always boiled down to the same message. 'you're wasting my valuable time. Don't get caught again. My guards aren't nearly as friendly as I am.' And it was true, to some extent. Although the royal guard wasn't overflowing with miscreants or ruthless savages, there were quite a few men who'd no sooner throw Forrest in prison for a few days despite his crimes being well-known throughout the candy shops, and considered mostly-harmless. Gaius traced the small outlines of a cloud in disarray and turned to face Forrest for a split second, assuming he hadn't already bolted upon release. With a small flick of his wrist, he was off, headed for the king's castle. Or at least he would've been, if he'd nearly been knocked over by a rogue glider, flying far too close to the ground. Gaius fell to his hands in a desperate panic, barely having any time to duck out of the glider's way. Hell, if it hadn't been for the pilot's swift change in momentum, he might have just lost his top. Or his helmet, at least. "Eh! Watch your altitude, kid!" Gaius bellowed at Eli, cupping the edges of his visor with both hands. Troublemakers everywhere. Why hadn't there been any guards watching for illegal fliers? Bah! He'd have to give his men in the nearby districts a stern talking to about the laws regarding safe gliding in populated areas again. It's not like they ever listened to him. Hell, most of what Gaius tried to relay to his guards and the citizens was brushed off as nothing more than nagging half the time. But regardless of how much impact it left, It was his responsibility to keep pressing into his peers. Obligations were not to be trifled with! That's what Gaius always said. Nobody listened to that either though. "At least you're not threatening to take somebody's head off, Forrest," Gaius quipped, clashing his metal gauntlets together to wipe off the dust on his hands, "if that day comes, I won't hesitate to throw you in jail myself! Ahaha!" He turned away from Forrest once again with a curt nod and a raise of the hand, heading to see the king, like he'd intended to all morning. He found himself following a few paces behind another man, visibly armed with a sword of foreign quality. It made his own weapon look like an artifact by comparison. Then again, Gaius' Claymore wasn't exactly the newest model, so to speak. Although it was large, larger than most weapons fit for melee combat, his sword was roughly ten years old. He couldn't stand to part with it, despite the many objections that the castle blacksmith howled into his iron carapace. It was a memento! How could he give up the sword that marked his entry into the royal guard all those years ago? He wouldn't give it up, not even for Blank's beautifully crafted weapon from beyond the borders of Heron! Gaius let out a heavy breath, smiling under his helmet as he passed Lee's shop. He turned and offered her a short wave with another flick of his wrist as he passed. "Mornin' Lee" He said softly, keeping on his way through the market at a steady pace.

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

Rahna Altema Just like she did almost every early morning, she helped her mother grind up herbs and create salve mixtures to sell and use at the shop, or rather, it was more like a small clinic. It was by no means a large establishment, but it did the job for the local folk who just needed something simple for their illnesses and injuries. However, unlike the usual mornings, she needed to change the bandages on her arm. She recently got into a glider accident during a small race she was having with Eli. It seemed that she couldn't control the 'upgrade' that her bestie had done on her glider, a little faster than she was used to and harder to turn. The wound stung as she applied the salve onto it, she winced as her mixture covered finger touched the long, thin cut that ran down her left forearm. She didn't blame Eli for this at all though, it was her own fault for accepting his impromptu race invitation. She almost never said no, she had so much fun when she played with him. Rahna slowly wrapped the clean bandages around her arm, tying it off with the help of her teeth. She didn't want to bother her mom about such things; running a shop was already stressful, not to mention all the small or big problems the patients had when they walked through the door. Her eyes moved to the sound of the door opening downstairs, she could already tell who it was. Normally people would knock before entering, but there was one person who never did. And that was Eli, who called out for her the moment he popped his head through. She got up from her chair and gathered her belongings, shoving them into her satchel before slinging the strap over her shoulder. She quickly put her shoes on before dashing out of her room, vaulting over the stair handrail and landing almost perfectly on the timber flooring near the door. She looked up to see Eli's face, she smiled cheerfully at him. "Of course I'm here! Where else would I be so early in the morning~?" She responded in an amused tone. Just as she got up to go over to her friend, her mother came through the back door with a basket of what appeared to be more herbs. "Oh! Good morning Eli! Are you well? How's your sister doing?" She greeted jovially. In that moment, something clicked in Rahna's mind. Oh no. At full speed, she raced to the door, "U-Uh! Mom, we got some urgent stuff to do! Right Eli? Yeah! Let's go! We'll be back later!" She said loudly as she swung the door open, before grabbing Eli by the wrist, pulling him away from the door slightly. She shut the door behind her quickly before looking at Eli with a relieved look. "That was close." She said after a brief pause. They would've been stuck there forever if she had let him respond to her mother. Conversations with Rahna's mother usually involved coming inside for cookies and tea, possibly lunch and then dinner. Stay the night there too, why not. "So, what's up? Lemme guess, you wanna race again~?" She assumed in an amused tone, cocking an eyebrow him. Of course, she wouldn't be opposed to it, even if she did get injured the last time.

NAME: Rahna Altema Age: 18 Height: 5'7" ABSTRACT: A cheerful young girl with a natural curiosity APPEARANCE: DETAIL: Like many of the other citizens of Heron, Rahna is quite adept at using her glider to get from place to place. Often she’d play with the other kids her age, having glider races and doing tricks on them. Although she was never the winner of said races, she kept her spirits up by cheering for the people that did. She was never really one for competitions, she just wanted everyone to have fun. She enjoys learning about random things and about other people. Some say she’s nosy, others say she’s just naturally curious. The latter would be correct. However, she knows what she shouldn’t be too curious about based on how people talk about whatever it is. But what she truly excelled at learning about was Herbalism, much to the delight of her mother, who was also a Herbalist. More often than not, she was the first person people would approach about small injuries and minor ailments. Despite her cheerful nature, she can easily wind up in a situation where she doubts her abilities. Equipment: Hang-glider (Pretty basic, has bird wings painted on the wings of the glider.) Notebook and charcoal (Filled with random pieces of knowledge on various things. Rather unorganized (Unless it's her plant encyclopedias), yet detailed. Mostly herbalist notes.) Leather sling bag (containing various vials of salves and herbs... and the occasional fruit for a snack) Small harvesting knife

Holding the ring up to the light Lee smiled to herself as she watched the rays of sunshine dance over the band. It was a job well done. Standing, she made her way to the back of the shop again to put the ring away in a safe place. People and their sticky fingers were a danger in her line of work. Thankfully she'd only had one incident of theft last year, the circlet returned safely after the person was apprehended. Lee found rather sad that some people resorted to stealing rather than working on whatever they were good at, perfecting those skills and turning them into good honest work. Or at least work that wasn't stealing. Either way, the incident prompted her to get some more solid security when it came to storing finished products, sharp thorns and little scratchy wires covering the entirety of the containers where finished projects were stored. Lee wore gloves and gently wrapped each object in soft cloth before tucking them tightly under the large bundles. It wasn't the best method but the thief would walk away with scratches on their hands for sure if they didn't wear thick leather gloves. Just as Lee did just that, slipping the covered ring beneath the bundles, she heard voices outside the shop. Near it at least. So she gathered up the gems and tools she'd be using for decorating the hair ornament and made her way back to the front. Midway there she found herself giggling under her breath as she heard parts of something that sounded like a somewhat irked ramble. Lee sat down and spread her instruments out on the large ledge, hands and face bathed in the warmth of the day as she started to work, positioning the gems in certain places then moving them around, trying to see which combination would look best. The woman became so engrossed with her work that when she heard her name she nearly jumped out of her skin, eyes flying up to find it was just Gaius. She raised a hand and smiled brightly. "Morning!" There hasn't been any time to say anything else. The man seemed to be on his way to something important anyway, Lee thought as she watched him go before returning to her work. She had seen Gaius around often enough. The man who he'd been conversing with however, she didn't. Lee was good with faces and names but that didn't mean she knew a lot of people personally.

NAME: Lee Silvertongue ABSTRACT: A painfully creative young woman that has a tendency to get along better with inanimate objects and materials than people. APPEARANCE: Twenty-three years old, 5'8''. Pale with thick,short, wavy black hair that just touches her jawline. Dark eyes and a lean physique. Scars along her fingers and hands. DETAIL: History: Currently, she helps out at her Father's shop and maintains her own on the side. Lee works with precious stones and gems for the most part, polishing, cutting them and engraving them. She's very good with her hands, using her skills for a variety of jobs that range from decorating the hilts of weapons to cutting the smallest gems for jewelry. Her own shop has more to do with the art she creates with paints and her thread, trinkets she makes out of colored glass and sits out for people to see. She rarely goes outside but if she does she tends to either spend the time alone of with her two younger twin brothers and teaching them about their surroundings or collecting materials for her new project. Her father is almost always busy and her mother passed away of an illness shortly after the twins were born, so she takes on the maternal role in their home. Personality: Lee isn't against being with others or conversing with them but she is soft-spoken and worries too much about what people may think of her. She prefers to stay in her or her father's shop, singing to herself as she works through the day. While she's a hard worker she doesn't mind to throw the occasional afternoon away to just laze around under the warm sun. She's caring and fairly intelligent, but can be very protective when it comes to her family.

Nikki shifted her weight, sending her glider into a tight banking turn. She'd done a minor task for someone earlier, and earned a bit of money, and there were probably other things she /could/ do, but she wasn't in the mood. Instead she was soaring over town, looking for something interesting to get involved in. The wind flowing around her was invigorating, and she angled into a dive, picking up enough speed that she was able to execute a loop, or at least the closest to one she'd ever managed so far. It came off more like a stall into a flip, but the sensation of weightlessness at the top was exhilarating and far made up for the awkward appearance of the trick. A glint of armor caught the girl's eye as she leveled out again. Was that...? It was! Gaius, and it looked like he had his hands full with Forrest. Nikki let out a peal of laughter, and circled lower. Poor Forrest, he actually let the knight catch up with him again? Seemed like he'd been caught in the act, instead of deliberately raising the alarm after successfully obtaining whatever he'd been after. It was no good getting seen if you didn't have enough of a head start to go on a nice chase, after all. Not that she hadn't slipped up enough to be grabbed quickly herself on multiple occasions, but that was far less /fun/. As she spiralled overhead, watching the scene play out below, Nikki cracked up again as Eli in his glider nearly bowled Gaius over. His might be faster than hers -- not that she'd ever admit it -- but hers was lighter and far more maneuverable. If she wanted pure speed, all she needed to do was dive. Oh, but she'd have to tease him about that near miss later~! Something about knocking over tin cans, perhaps? She let the thought flit away for later consideration, as Gaius's path met up with someone else she enjoyed giving a hard time. Blank! No sooner did she catch sight of him than she was flipping herself into a roll to change direction and lining up her approach. Then she dove down, down, down, pulling up /just/ in time and flipping the lever that let her glider's wings collapse to the main body. That allowed her to drop to the ground neatly a mere yard or two from the other teen, landing a bit harder than she intended but she was used to that by now and just grunted a bit. Straightening up with a bright smile, she sauntered over to fall in next to Blank. "Where ya heading?" Nikki asked him, completely ignoring Gaius's less-than-pleased reaction to the second low-flying glider in a short span of time.

Name: Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt Abstract: friendly prankster with a clever mind and an appetite for adventure (Ignore the cat attributes, but that's basically Nikki, in her original form. Modifications have been made.) Appearance: Nikki is a nineteen-year-old of about average height, with a solid build that evidences the fact that she’s always on the go. She keeps her blond hair cut at her jawline, and her light brown eyes are lively. She prefers to wear flattering clothes, generally showing as much tanned skin as she can get away with. She loves black clothing, and it’s always something that lets her move freely and won’t get in the way when she’s up to her usual activities. She generally wears a pair of woven bracelets with amber and green stones, and shoes are usually a pair of solid-soled sandals with straps so she doesn’t lose them. Details: Nikki grew up with her father after her parents separated. She knows and loves her mother as well, but the woman’s job as a trader often took her far from home. Her father, Jasper, runs a general shop in town. Nikki herself has very little patience for work and doesn’t have an official job, instead doing odd jobs for various people. Instead of a real occupation, she prefers to get into adventures -- or trouble. She’s been filling her time with both since she was old enough to walk. She tried to pay attention to lessons and such, and did alright, but daydreaming or just wandering off wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’s a nice person, if perhaps overly exuberant, though her tendency to tease and play pranks can certainly seem mean. But she wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, and is more or less harmless. She’s quick and agile, with an ability to keep her feet under her even in difficult situations that would put many cats to shame. She knows how to use a knife, and can hit a target from a couple yards away, but that’s only in controlled circumstances. If it came to an actual fight, Nikki is far more likely to keep hold of her knife and use whatever is to hand, often in unusual ways. She’s pretty creative when it comes to innovative solutions to problems, though not all of them would be wise to attempt. The girl has a tendency not to think things through that ends her up in trouble as often as not. She actively courts disaster, be it trying crazy stunts or stealing a bun from a food stall for the thrill of getting chased. She revels in danger, carefully balancing on the line between wild and downright crazy. Telling her not to do something is one of the best ways to get her to try; if you don’t want her to eavesdrop, you’re better off discussing something boring for a bit instead of lowering your voice. She’s a superb flier, mostly because she has to be with all the stunts she tries, and enjoys flying second only to exploring. Well. Maybe third if you count pranks? Something like that. Her approach to life is one of humor and gleeful optimism, diving headlong into every opportunity that comes her way. When she decides to do something, she commits herself fully and holds nothing back. Life is something to be enjoyed, and she plans to do that to the utmost. Other: ~ Glider that’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s fast and very maneuverable. She just can’t carry too much of anything besides herself. She’s damaged it with stunts more times than can be remembered, but while battered it’s held up pretty well. Her father decided that if his daughter couldn’t be prevented from risking her life trying crazy tricks, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t the fault of her wings should she get hurt. ~Lockpicks, because you never know what interesting things might need opening. She totally doesn’t use them on things that actually belong to people though. Usually. Most of the time. Well, okay, she does, but she puts everything back where she’s found it, so it’s okay, right? ~Her knife is a handy tool she’s never without. She has a second one in case the first one gets broken or lost somehow. ~A bag of assorted tricks, usually including a bit of food, a grappling hook on a length of light but sturdy rope, a small metal mirror, some stick-on bandages, a few safety pins, heavy-duty tape, some string, a permanent marker, and various things to assist in pranking. Relationships: Gaius Stronurr - Nikki admires and respects Gaius, and she /loves/ his stories. She’s probably run afoul of him a few times, stealing things and making him chase her down to get them back. Respecting him, it seems, is not enough to make her listen to him. (Would he realize she views it as a game? I mean, if he stopped chasing, she’d stop doing it with the intention of him chasing her down. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t aim for other people to chase her, though.) Forrest Everfree - she’s a bit jealous of his freedom, and imagines life without parental figures telling you what to do as fun. Not that she wants to lose her parents, but the lack of a supervising authority appeals to her. As a child she found him fascinating, and often followed him around, eventually convincing him to teach her how to pickpocket and other minor thief skills. Eli Wyn - friend and frequent co-conspirator. Nikki is impressed by what he knows about gliders, and has actually learned a bit about them from him. His quest for excitement fits well with her own, and as wild as they are separately, get the two together and it’s even more intense. He’s the one that introduced her to Rahna and Blin/Brytag. Rahna Altema - Eli introduced the two, and they get on fairly well. Nikki enjoys racing with her and some of the others. She’s also learned that playing on Rahna’s curiosity is a great way to get her to go along with things she might not otherwise. Blin "Brytag" Alborse - He’s quiet and he always looks half-asleep, but he’s not bad. And he has some of the craziest dreams! Palling around with Eli and Rahna means she’s friends with him too. Blank - Nikki’s not sure if she likes bothering him or just plain /likes/ him, but she’s certainly fond of the mysterious teen. Since his arrival two years ago, she has found him an irresistible target for teasing. He’s so cute when he blushes~ Despite his good-natured complaining, the two are pretty tight now, though initially she had to construct circumstances that made adventures unavoidable when he balked at less forceful attempts to bring him along. She’s nothing if not persistent. Tivo Sol - Nikki's encountered him a couple times, both in town and out near ruins, but they're not close or anything. Kelari Halder - she's friendly, and she tells interesting tales. What's not to like? Nikki is at least on friendly terms with her, though she's probably tried to use Kelari's equipment at least once. Without permission. She got her tattoo at Kelari's parlor, a small pair of stylized wings on her shoulder blades. Hurt like anything, but the result was worth it~ Song: Dangerous, by Within Temptation

Forrest Everfree Forrest couldn't help but grin when the giant guard, Gaius started to berate him, it was so much fun to torment the ol' tin can when ever he gets into trouble it kind of became its own game of causal annoyance. Suddenly the tight grip on his hand loosen and it limply fell to the ground, which caused Forrest to winch and look up at Gaius with a raised eyebrow, he then lectured that he will not carry his sorry ass down to the Prison, luckily for Forrest his ass wasn't sorry and he could just return to Tiffany and take the candy that's problaly in the trash since he got his greasy hands on it. And amusingly enough Gaius tried to intimidate him with the topic of the other guards, who are honestly only half as amusing as Gaius and all of who have sticks up their butts, heck Forrest always assume that if they don't have their swords they just beat people to death with their butt sticks. Heh, butt sticks. Forrest was interrupted of his important thoughts about the might weapons of Heron when a kid flew far to low and almost knocked off the Giant's head, which Forrest always assumed was his helmet since he never seen him without it, even if he was standing up, Forrest wouldn't be worried about being hit by low flyers, by the time they could land on him they would already be on the ground. What he was saying is, he's short. Forrest snickered softly as he watches the Giant go onto his hands and knees to dodge the kid's glider, which honestly was a nice stance to see the guard in. Very humorous to see. Forrest finally got up from his Rag-doll routine and dusted off any dirt that accumulated from the dragging and spontious show. Gaius stood up himself, it was always jarring how tall the guard was compared to him, as he was reached slightly below Gaius' shoulders, even though the latter isn't that much older then the former but from height alone the thief would look like a kid compare to the giant. Gaius quibbled saying that at least Forrest isn't dangerous like that kid was, was that kid's again? Elle? Ellie? Eli, that's it. But the subject matter was that if Forrest ever reached that level of inconvenience Gaius would gladly throw him in jail, which caused Forrest to glare and stick out his tongue at him childishly before running off to the opposite direction. After a few minutes of sneaking past suspicious glares from both patrons and customers in the market place he went past the regular old apothecary he visits whenever he gets hurt with a cut or something, and he quickly walked past a pair of kids talking to each other. Not far past them was a cliff to the side that has a long drop to a lower island that leads towards the Library a place he likes to hang out when not hanging out at home or 'collecting' loose items that people drop at the market place. Forrest took a deep breath and readied himself then he suddenly started sprinting to the cliff and at the last second he jumped off with full force to cross the distance of the two islands, as Forrest was hurtling across the air he could hear the relaxing sound of the wind running though his ears and his full pockets rattling as gravity did it's job, it was like nirvana to be falling out of the sky without a glider but like all good dreams, they have to end, particularly this dream, due to the fact that the ground was coming at him at break neck speeds quite literally the case if he doesn't land it properly. Luckily for him he has landed this a hundred times and he will do it another hundred more. There is a tree a few dozen meter above the ground on the side of the cliff that is strong enough to hold his weight and not just that it is bendy enough to make him land safely and with only a few splinters and a couple cuts, which is a lot better deal then a few broken limbs and bones. But you must asking. Why? Why does he do this? And why he does it you will know. Its fun. That's all. And he does just that, he wrapped his arm around the trees thin trunk and the tree bends downwards to the ground to catch his weight and when its practically bending at a 90 degree angle, Forrest let go and after a short drop of five feet he made it safely to the other island without a glider or a cable car. Only with a bunch of bravery and a dash of stupidity. Well maybe more like a cup of stupidity, but now it's time to hang out at the library, which is only a few meters away from his current location of an angry gardener's back yard. How does he know the gardener angry? Well... she's screaming at him to get lost before she gets the guards, which Forrest promptly does. To the Library. Which is not a few hundred feet away. This plan is not well thought out.

NAME: Forrest Everfree ABSTRACT: A cheerful Thief whose as sweet as the candy he steals and with fingers just as sticky. APPEARANCE: Twenty-five years old, 5'4, tanned with a few freckles and short brown hair. DETAIL: HISTORY: Forrest is one of very few orphans in Heron as his mother died shortly after he was born and his father died from a fever when he was a child. But he always tried his best to stay cheerful and happy as it was a request from his dying father, with help from the villagers he got a small house to himself. Due to his status as an orphan it gave him a unique freedom that not many others had on the island. As he became older he started to steal sweets and small amounts of food from stores and eventually houses since he lacked the skill to make his own food or sweets due to living on his own but he made sure he never stole enough that people noticed, but even still he became bolder with what he stole, as he started to take utensils, books, sewing supplies and soon enough money. Recently it started to cause problems with the other villagers as he started to steal bigger and more expansive things, and while he returned the items when he's requested to, the town's guards have started to watch him carefully. So he decided that he needs to lay low for awhile until the guards aren't as watchful. PERSONALITY: Forrest is a very affable and social person with a bad case of kleptomania. For as kind and cheerful as he is he lacks self control as he will do or steal in most cases just about anything that he finds fun or worthwhile to him, but he always return to the person he stole from as long as they ask for it back. since he sometimes feels bad for taking people stuff, but that doesn't mean he's going to stop stealing. EQUIPMENT: Hand-glider: nothing special about this one Candies: A bag of candies that he always keep on him so he can slate his sweet tooth. Leather bag: A leather bag to hold his stuff in.

Blank let out a silent breath, resigning himself to give up on training today as Nikki litterally fell into step next to him. "I was planning to train with the royal guards, but I assume I'll have to put that off till tomorrow once you convince me to join whatever hare brained scheme you've just cooked up." His hand darted out, poking her in the ribs before he continued. "It's not like I can stay behind. If I'm not there to get you out of trouble, who knows what would happen?" He smirked slightly. For all his halfhearted complaining, Blank actually enjoyed Nikki's adventures. Every time they explored a new wild island or cave, something pulled at the edges of his memory, like reliving a familiar experience. He had never actually remembered anything, but he felt like it was close. Besides, of everyone on the island, he was closest to Nikki. She had been the first one to make him open up. "So? Do I need to get my glider today?"

NAME: Blank ABSTRACT: A mysterious teen who crashed on the Island. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: History: Two years ago, Blank crashed on the Island riding a strangely shaped hang glider, carrying only his bag of supplies and his sword. He was taken in by one of the families after admitting he had no memories, but since then only a vague sense of some purpose has returned to him. Personality: Blank is quiet and thoughtful, but kind hearted. He might be a warrior, since he has some skill with the sword, but he knows as little as a newborn, relying on instinct to interact with people. He tries to avoid contact with people he doesn't know, is almost adorably shy, and is always happy to let someone else take the lead. Equipment: Sword Bag containing dried food and water. Strange hang glider.

Sera Chewing on her last slice of bread Sera checked her leather bag one more time. Yup, everything in there. This was it, her last straw. If she didn't get enough money from the artifact she was carrying in her bag right now to finance another artifact recovery operation, she was done for. It'd be back to collecting food scraps for her, something she didn't need to have to do since her 12th birthday. It seemed like all the close ruins had been picked dry by somebody else. She knew of Tivo more or less hanging around the ruins all the time, but as far as Sera knew, he wasn't in it for the money. In her time as scavenger, she had run into him from time to time, but mostly ignoring his presence as much as possible. To disturb Sera's work was to disturb her income. Now, though, it seemed dire. With a long, drawn out sigh, Sera stared at the trinket in the bag. It was a golden goblet, engraved with a depiction of some event. Sera was no specialist, but she assumed it described a coronation, so she hoped it was worth at least a little. Maybe even to the royal family. "Well, then... Let's go and meet fate...", she muttered as she shouldered the leather bag. Sera exited her small house, which she bought a few years ago to stay off the street, lying at the border of Heron. She adored the swung roof and the slightly isolated location on top of a little hill with a perfect view to the marketplace. Slowly Sera strolled down the dirt pathway down the hill until it became cobblestone, she bee-lined for her favourite trader. "Good morning, Sera. Got something for me?", he yelled as soon as he saw her. More or less, he owed Sera most of his fortune, so he was quite thankful to her and always excited to see her. "Yeah. Can you give me a good estimate for this?" Sera took out the trinket and placed it on the trader's table. Said trader aaahhh'd and ooohhh'd at the sight of the trinket. "This is really good. Have you kept that in a hidden stash until now?" Sera shook her head. "I'm out of money, so this is my last one.", she confessed. A bit later, Sera, now a lot more happy than in the morning sat down on a bench munching a sweet pie she had bought with the money she had just gotten. This seemed to have been the best loot she had ever sold, so she was quite eager to celebrate, but after this, it was back to shopping for food to equip her next scavenging trip. But for now, she chewed happily on the pie.

NAME: Sera AGE: 18 SIZE: 5' ABSTRACT: A tomboyish and adventurous orphan girl, who loves fighting and finding artifacts. DETAIL: History: Sera's history is fairly short, since not a lot happened since her parents died when she was 8. So she had to fend for herself starting that age. Out of necessity Sera learned how to fight and to loot nearby ruins and other islands for valuables to sell. Personality: For the most time, Sera is quite the tomboy, not seeming to be interested in "girly" things, whatever they actually are, and loves to challenge people, even if it is just verbally. She can get get quite vocal and cheeky at that, too. But in the end, if you get to know her well enough, she might warm up to you enough to be nice. EQUIPMENT: -Her glider -Her "Combat Lance", aka, her trusty wooden stick -Bag for looted goodies

She giggled, swerving a few steps away at the friendly jab. "Training with the guard?" Any half-formed plans Nikki had fled as she seized upon one that appealed even more. "You mean the knights?" Her grin grew wider, and laughter danced in her golden-brown eyes. "Forget the glider, watching you get your butt handed to you sounds excellent~ You may be good with that sword of yours, but there's no way you're anywhere near a match for them, not yet. I mean, they train /forever/!" The teen switched her collapsed glider, now resembling a thick walking stick, from one hand to the other. "Besides, I'd love an excuse to visit the castle. I wonder if I can sneak in and catch a glimpse of the king...." She trailed off in a thoughtful tone, something her friends knew was not going to make the end result any less wild. "Landing on the roof somewhere, that's too obvious. I mean, everyone flies, right? Climbing up to a window, though, that they'd /never/ expect~" Nikki turned her attention back to Blank. "So do you wanna try and visit the king before you get yourself all beaten up, or after~?"

Name: Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt Abstract: friendly prankster with a clever mind and an appetite for adventure (Ignore the cat attributes, but that's basically Nikki, in her original form. Modifications have been made.) Appearance: Nikki is a nineteen-year-old of about average height, with a solid build that evidences the fact that she’s always on the go. She keeps her blond hair cut at her jawline, and her light brown eyes are lively. She prefers to wear flattering clothes, generally showing as much tanned skin as she can get away with. She loves black clothing, and it’s always something that lets her move freely and won’t get in the way when she’s up to her usual activities. She generally wears a pair of woven bracelets with amber and green stones, and shoes are usually a pair of solid-soled sandals with straps so she doesn’t lose them. Details: Nikki grew up with her father after her parents separated. She knows and loves her mother as well, but the woman’s job as a trader often took her far from home. Her father, Jasper, runs a general shop in town. Nikki herself has very little patience for work and doesn’t have an official job, instead doing odd jobs for various people. Instead of a real occupation, she prefers to get into adventures -- or trouble. She’s been filling her time with both since she was old enough to walk. She tried to pay attention to lessons and such, and did alright, but daydreaming or just wandering off wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’s a nice person, if perhaps overly exuberant, though her tendency to tease and play pranks can certainly seem mean. But she wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, and is more or less harmless. She’s quick and agile, with an ability to keep her feet under her even in difficult situations that would put many cats to shame. She knows how to use a knife, and can hit a target from a couple yards away, but that’s only in controlled circumstances. If it came to an actual fight, Nikki is far more likely to keep hold of her knife and use whatever is to hand, often in unusual ways. She’s pretty creative when it comes to innovative solutions to problems, though not all of them would be wise to attempt. The girl has a tendency not to think things through that ends her up in trouble as often as not. She actively courts disaster, be it trying crazy stunts or stealing a bun from a food stall for the thrill of getting chased. She revels in danger, carefully balancing on the line between wild and downright crazy. Telling her not to do something is one of the best ways to get her to try; if you don’t want her to eavesdrop, you’re better off discussing something boring for a bit instead of lowering your voice. She’s a superb flier, mostly because she has to be with all the stunts she tries, and enjoys flying second only to exploring. Well. Maybe third if you count pranks? Something like that. Her approach to life is one of humor and gleeful optimism, diving headlong into every opportunity that comes her way. When she decides to do something, she commits herself fully and holds nothing back. Life is something to be enjoyed, and she plans to do that to the utmost. Other: ~ Glider that’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s fast and very maneuverable. She just can’t carry too much of anything besides herself. She’s damaged it with stunts more times than can be remembered, but while battered it’s held up pretty well. Her father decided that if his daughter couldn’t be prevented from risking her life trying crazy tricks, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t the fault of her wings should she get hurt. ~Lockpicks, because you never know what interesting things might need opening. She totally doesn’t use them on things that actually belong to people though. Usually. Most of the time. Well, okay, she does, but she puts everything back where she’s found it, so it’s okay, right? ~Her knife is a handy tool she’s never without. She has a second one in case the first one gets broken or lost somehow. ~A bag of assorted tricks, usually including a bit of food, a grappling hook on a length of light but sturdy rope, a small metal mirror, some stick-on bandages, a few safety pins, heavy-duty tape, some string, a permanent marker, and various things to assist in pranking. Relationships: Gaius Stronurr - Nikki admires and respects Gaius, and she /loves/ his stories. She’s probably run afoul of him a few times, stealing things and making him chase her down to get them back. Respecting him, it seems, is not enough to make her listen to him. (Would he realize she views it as a game? I mean, if he stopped chasing, she’d stop doing it with the intention of him chasing her down. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t aim for other people to chase her, though.) Forrest Everfree - she’s a bit jealous of his freedom, and imagines life without parental figures telling you what to do as fun. Not that she wants to lose her parents, but the lack of a supervising authority appeals to her. As a child she found him fascinating, and often followed him around, eventually convincing him to teach her how to pickpocket and other minor thief skills. Eli Wyn - friend and frequent co-conspirator. Nikki is impressed by what he knows about gliders, and has actually learned a bit about them from him. His quest for excitement fits well with her own, and as wild as they are separately, get the two together and it’s even more intense. He’s the one that introduced her to Rahna and Blin/Brytag. Rahna Altema - Eli introduced the two, and they get on fairly well. Nikki enjoys racing with her and some of the others. She’s also learned that playing on Rahna’s curiosity is a great way to get her to go along with things she might not otherwise. Blin "Brytag" Alborse - He’s quiet and he always looks half-asleep, but he’s not bad. And he has some of the craziest dreams! Palling around with Eli and Rahna means she’s friends with him too. Blank - Nikki’s not sure if she likes bothering him or just plain /likes/ him, but she’s certainly fond of the mysterious teen. Since his arrival two years ago, she has found him an irresistible target for teasing. He’s so cute when he blushes~ Despite his good-natured complaining, the two are pretty tight now, though initially she had to construct circumstances that made adventures unavoidable when he balked at less forceful attempts to bring him along. She’s nothing if not persistent. Tivo Sol - Nikki's encountered him a couple times, both in town and out near ruins, but they're not close or anything. Kelari Halder - she's friendly, and she tells interesting tales. What's not to like? Nikki is at least on friendly terms with her, though she's probably tried to use Kelari's equipment at least once. Without permission. She got her tattoo at Kelari's parlor, a small pair of stylized wings on her shoulder blades. Hurt like anything, but the result was worth it~ Song: Dangerous, by Within Temptation

Eli Wyn Before Eli had a chance to pull it together and realize what was going on, Rahna had already pulled him out the door. "I never understood why you're so driven not to let me talk to your mom," he frowned, "I wouldn't embarrass you, y'know?" He beamed an amused grin when she mentioned the word 'race' and was almost ready to outlay the route he had in mind. He was about to start describing it when he noticed a patch of white on her forearm. In a flash, memories of their last race came back to him. He totally forgot about what had happened. "Oh right," the smile subsided for the moment, "Maybe we should... you know... take it easy for the day?" Eli himself didn't believe those words just came out of his mouth. And he was so hyped for the race, too. But the fact that she got hurt last time, because of him, remained. Of course, she would never openly say that it was his fault, but it was what it was. He felt really bad about it. Getting himself in trouble, having to handle a couple of grazes, cuts and bruises, was fine. But injuring his friends? That was another story. "I could take a look at your glider, give it a bit more spin and control? We don't want a repeat of the last time. We have time 'till meeting Blin for lunch, so why not glide to the usual spot and..." And... And... And what? What do people do when they're not doing crazy stuff? Although they're not constantly doing crazy stuff, per se, Eli still manages to get them into some kind of trouble. So what was it that they could do? As he was thinking about it, he gazed at Rahna, his look absent. It took him a few moments, but he eventually realized that he probably could've ended the sentence at a better spot. This way it was open for interpretation. And the last thing Eli would want in his life is a repeat of that dreadful situation. Code name: Aurora. "Talk?" He carefully blurted out, as if he wasn't sure that normal people even do that anymore. As the answer soaked in, Eli finally exhaled - the sentence was politically correct. Phew. "Yeah, talk - we could talk! I've got a couple of SkyKolas in my backpack, so we can kick back and relax." The smile returned to Eli's face after what was probably the longest time today that his smile was absent.

NAME: Eli Wyn - Age: 17 - Height: 5'8'' ABSTRACT: Adrenaline junkie that tries to make the best out of every situation - a ball of caffeine. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: - Personality: Legend goes that Eli fell on his head when he was a small boy, at least that's what his older sister tells people when she needs to explain why Eli did whatever stupid thing he did. It's not as if Eli is not a smart cookie - he may not be the smartest one in a jar, but he ain't stupid, just a little bit on the crazy side. He likes all things that bring that tingling gut feeling to the table. The more butterflies in his stomach he feels, the better. And since almost nothing of note happens in the village, he needs to make things happen. People call his stunts idiotic, crazy, suicidal... but mostly idiotic - but Eli does what he needs to do to bring at least some excitement into his life. Why would you simply go around a fence and enter through a gate if you can jump over it? Without using hands, of course. - History: Eli often helps his sister out with her job of being a pre-school teacher. Well, he is merely an errand boy, going to fetch whatever materials she needs and bringing them back to her. Often being a few hours late. It gives him something to do and it works as a good excuse for him not being in the house. And he gets to interact with people, which is always awesome in his book. Interestingly enough, it is his mother that allowed him to help his sister without him having to ask twice. As far as Eli knows, she feels nostalgic about the days when she was as carefree as him. EQUIPMENT: -a hand-glider | "expertly" modified by the "king of gliders", Eli, so it can go a faster, but it makes it that much harder to turn. Worth it. - a leather bag and a can of soda | Sky Kola - best refreshment on this side of the sky Blin "The Bro" Alborse - one of the closest friends Eli has. Although they are not overly similar personality wise, there are certain things that make them compatible. And man, he has a vivid imagination - making him instawesome. Rahna A.K.A The Bestie - he wouldn't trade her for all the excitement in the world. That tells you a lot. Forrest - once stole his sweet roll. Still owes him a sweet roll. Gaius A.K.A Don't Crash Into Him - otherwise he'll yell. Aurora - the girl Eli once mistakenly called his girlfriend. She hates his guts now. At least that's what she claims. Kelari - A master of the tattoo art, incredibly talented and artistic. Admires her work. Damn - he wants that tattoo. Lee - ?? Braum - ?? Thema - ?? Blank - "That handsome bastard that came out of nowhere." Tivo - ?? Sera - ?? Nikki - There is a fairly peculiar relationship with Nikki. Started on a really high note, with a small, five year old Eli idolizing Nikki. Then it took a sharp turn because Eli is, as everyone knows, the King of Stunts - considering their personalities, that was reason enough for a fairly hot rivalry to arose between the two. Legend goes they are still competing to this very day.

Tivo Sol BGM Gliding through the boundless skies with a well-made glider early in the morning -- and in pajamas, no less -- felt wonderful to Tivo. It was the route to Heron from the observatory that he enjoyed the most, since the location of Heron and its surrounding islands was slightly lower in altitude than that of the abandoned astronomical lab. That means he wouldn't have to exert much effort in maintaining his height and correcting his path of flight as much, which was always a great bonus. Just a steady glide downwards, and the monotonous sound of wind licking at his glider's wings almost prompted Tivo to fall back asleep. But he knew better than to do that, especially when mid-air. After an uneventful yet pleasurable flight, the floating land mass which Heron rested upon came into Tivo's sight. As he approached, he began to ponder on what he should do upon arrival. Today is a pajama day, so why not just make it a lazy pajama day? The thought certainly was nice. Although, he knew that it would be best to head over to Rahna's place and help her and her mother out with the garden -- courtesy and all that. After executing a moderately careful landing on the outskirts of Heron, the first thing Tivo did was fold the wings of his biplane-esque glider back into their inital compacted form. Afterwards, he removed his leather satchel from the main body of his glider and threw it onto his shoulder with a sharp grunt that was mostly tinged with annoyance. His normal clothing would give him the ability to hold his hoe and glider on his back with ease because of the complimentary, garish straps and clamps adhered to the side which held them in place, but his pajamas weren't very helpful in that case. Tivo shrugged the hoe off his back and let it fall to the forest floor with a dull thud before picking it back up and resting it onto his shoulder beside the bag. It would be somewhat of a hassle to carry this luggage all the way from the outskirts of Heron to the market, but he could handle. Next on his priority list was determining what the hell he could do before heading over to Rahna's house. He had time to kill -- a lot of it -- and he wasn't to keen on just going to his home and chilling out there. If he was nonchalant enough to go through the whole day with only pajamas on, he would probably be alright with doing just about anything. After reaching for his glider and plucking it up off the ground, he began his short trek to the market. Thankfully, he spotted quite an interesting person indeed. He didn't really know what her name was, but she greatly interested him. It was about time that they met. As he approached Themba, Tivo called out an inquiry directed towards the musician. "Hey! Where'd you get that lute from?"

NAME: Tivo Sol ABSTRACT: Friendly, carefree boy who wholeheartedly enjoys the outdoors and the company of others -- and the opportunity to escape from Heron to go on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. 5'6", 17 years old, athletic thin build, black dreadlocks and caramel-colored skin, dark brown eyes. DETAIL: Besides the clothes on his back, Tivo carries a shoulder-slung pouch which holds a pencil, a notebook, various wheat-based snacks. He carries his glider on his back along with a triangular-headed furrowing hoe, both haphazardly strapped to his back with a multitude of make-shift leather straps.

Blin "Brytag" Alborse Blin shook his head and woke himself up, the power-nap had refreshed him from his early start and the dream, it was already fading....something about riding...oh the skywhale. He opened his journal and made a note next to "knights riding dragons - ask Gaius" and wrote "skywhale delivery service - tell E." He checked his gear and glider, then looked up at the sky for a rough estimate at the time, he had a little time left before lunch. A quick trip to the library and he'll help Eli out with the school...yet again. He smiled, it kept him busy and he really didn't mind. Blin stretched his muscles, took up his glider and launched for the library. His large glider slowly drifted down near the stone domed building that housed Blin's imaginary world. He loved the place, leaving the glider outside he walked in looking for the closest librarian. Blin spotted a few regulars at the library and one new face, he slowed down a little wondering he was. The freckled face was unfamiliar to him, the man smiled and seemed nice enough. Blin smiled a little nervously back to him, nervously turning away. He was embarrassed at being caught staring, and he quickly moved further into the library. He soon found a librarian and asked for a package for the pre-school kids, he was handed a selection of maps and books all of which were carefully wrapped up. He struggled a little, with the bulk of it all, but got it all safely loaded on his glider. Making sure they were all secure, he tested the weight. He was cutting it fine, just enough to get to see his mother and friends for lunch. Eli was going to have deliver his sisters request for once, either by himself or with his help. The farm was luckily lower in altitude than the library and he swore to himself that he would not close his eyes this time. Blin still had to get the blue thread for Lee, he wondered if anybody at the farm had any.

NAME: Kelari Halder ABSTRACT: Gregarious tattoo artist with a penchant for poetry and epics that moonlights as a library attendant. APPEARANCE: 6' feet tall and slender, blue tattoos of angular symbols and shapes on forehead and over and under her left eye. DETAILS: Strangers and townspeople know her as amiable and helpful, friends know her as clever and maybe a little crude. Loves to be in the company of others and enjoys meeting new people. Has been known to be quite talkative with customers at the tattoo parlor, if they'll let her.

Why don't we try seeing him legitimately first? Blank asked, both glad he could still keep his plans and slightly disappointed there would be no adventuring today. "I'll see if I can take a guard shift in exchange for letting you in." He craned his neck, looking back at the man trailing behind them. "Is that alright, Gaius?" Herron was a peaceful place. There were no bandits or opposing nations to contend with. The royal guard mostly spent their time handling civil disputes and chastising friendly thieves, so he doubted he would have much trouble getting someone to let him take their shift. He wasn't sure what he was comparing the situation to, but somehow he knew that there were places with far stronger security. He sighed, putting a hand to the side of his head. Why couldn't he just remember already? He felt so close, like he was on the edge of a cliff looking down on the ground, but too afraid to take the leap. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes for a second and kept walking, reaching out to pat Nikki on the head absently.

NAME: Blank ABSTRACT: A mysterious teen who crashed on the Island. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: History: Two years ago, Blank crashed on the Island riding a strangely shaped hang glider, carrying only his bag of supplies and his sword. He was taken in by one of the families after admitting he had no memories, but since then only a vague sense of some purpose has returned to him. Personality: Blank is quiet and thoughtful, but kind hearted. He might be a warrior, since he has some skill with the sword, but he knows as little as a newborn, relying on instinct to interact with people. He tries to avoid contact with people he doesn't know, is almost adorably shy, and is always happy to let someone else take the lead. Equipment: Sword Bag containing dried food and water. Strange hang glider.

Gaius Stronurr The Marketing District Gaius stopped hard on his right foot for a split second when Nikki fell from the sky, jostling his armor with the sudden loss of momentum. Twice in one day? How many times did he have to tell people, flying close to the ground in populated areas was a major hazard! He rose a finger to injerject, but stopped himself as she started speaking with Blank. It would've been a pointless refute on his part. That blasted woman was worse than Forrest. Everything he'd have to say would go right over her head, woosh. Suddenly, Blank turned to address him directly. It took him by surprise to see an unfamiliar face. Well, he'd seen Blank before, it was impossible for him to miss a trainee, but his name wasn't coming to mind immediately. "Hm?" He grunted, and stepped forward to continue following Blank and Nikki, "Ah, right- Um- Ah! Shifts!" Gaius remembered, tapping his right hand into the palm of his left. "Sorry there, friend! I'm not keen on swapping shifts with such short notice, and if you're still a trainee, it'd be a little irresponsible to post you somewhere so important! Besides that though, I'm not so sure how the king feels about people dropping in unannounced," Gaius explained, glancing at Nikki through the grates of his helmet suspiciously, "So I would advise not trying to slip past the guards. There's a lot of newbies on patrol today, and they're awfully loose with their weapons." Gaius chuckled at the innuendo that accidentally snuck into his empty warnings, but stopped himself and cleared his throat right afterwards. "I'm on my way to see the king myself, though. If he's not too busy, there's no harm in asking him if he'd be alright with a couple of visitors!"

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

Legitimately? Nikki practically whined the word. "But that's /booooring/~" Where was the fun in doing something the way everyone else did, the way you were supposed to? What Gaius said made her even more determined to do it the interesting way. Maybe she could hear what Gaius talked about with the king! That would be excellent. The teen glanced at Blank, and found him putting one hand to his head. She knew the expression on his face, mingled concentration and disappointment. "Hey, I'm sure you'll remember eventually," she told him gently, putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling as he patted her head. "I know it's frustrating, but don't let it get you down, okay Lloyd?" She'd given him the alternate name herself, and tended to save it for times when she was being especially sincere. "And hey, even if they /don't/ come back, you can make new ones, right? I mean, there's so many things out there just waiting to be done." Her eyes lit up. "I certainly plan to do all of them -- and you're welcome to come too~" The girl moved a little closer, and suddenly stretched up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before dancing a few steps ahead and turning to grin over her shoulder. "C'mon, I'll race you to the castle~ Last one there's a muddy duck~!" And with that she was off and running, laughter trailing behind her.

Name: Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt Abstract: friendly prankster with a clever mind and an appetite for adventure (Ignore the cat attributes, but that's basically Nikki, in her original form. Modifications have been made.) Appearance: Nikki is a nineteen-year-old of about average height, with a solid build that evidences the fact that she’s always on the go. She keeps her blond hair cut at her jawline, and her light brown eyes are lively. She prefers to wear flattering clothes, generally showing as much tanned skin as she can get away with. She loves black clothing, and it’s always something that lets her move freely and won’t get in the way when she’s up to her usual activities. She generally wears a pair of woven bracelets with amber and green stones, and shoes are usually a pair of solid-soled sandals with straps so she doesn’t lose them. Details: Nikki grew up with her father after her parents separated. She knows and loves her mother as well, but the woman’s job as a trader often took her far from home. Her father, Jasper, runs a general shop in town. Nikki herself has very little patience for work and doesn’t have an official job, instead doing odd jobs for various people. Instead of a real occupation, she prefers to get into adventures -- or trouble. She’s been filling her time with both since she was old enough to walk. She tried to pay attention to lessons and such, and did alright, but daydreaming or just wandering off wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’s a nice person, if perhaps overly exuberant, though her tendency to tease and play pranks can certainly seem mean. But she wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, and is more or less harmless. She’s quick and agile, with an ability to keep her feet under her even in difficult situations that would put many cats to shame. She knows how to use a knife, and can hit a target from a couple yards away, but that’s only in controlled circumstances. If it came to an actual fight, Nikki is far more likely to keep hold of her knife and use whatever is to hand, often in unusual ways. She’s pretty creative when it comes to innovative solutions to problems, though not all of them would be wise to attempt. The girl has a tendency not to think things through that ends her up in trouble as often as not. She actively courts disaster, be it trying crazy stunts or stealing a bun from a food stall for the thrill of getting chased. She revels in danger, carefully balancing on the line between wild and downright crazy. Telling her not to do something is one of the best ways to get her to try; if you don’t want her to eavesdrop, you’re better off discussing something boring for a bit instead of lowering your voice. She’s a superb flier, mostly because she has to be with all the stunts she tries, and enjoys flying second only to exploring. Well. Maybe third if you count pranks? Something like that. Her approach to life is one of humor and gleeful optimism, diving headlong into every opportunity that comes her way. When she decides to do something, she commits herself fully and holds nothing back. Life is something to be enjoyed, and she plans to do that to the utmost. Other: ~ Glider that’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s fast and very maneuverable. She just can’t carry too much of anything besides herself. She’s damaged it with stunts more times than can be remembered, but while battered it’s held up pretty well. Her father decided that if his daughter couldn’t be prevented from risking her life trying crazy tricks, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t the fault of her wings should she get hurt. ~Lockpicks, because you never know what interesting things might need opening. She totally doesn’t use them on things that actually belong to people though. Usually. Most of the time. Well, okay, she does, but she puts everything back where she’s found it, so it’s okay, right? ~Her knife is a handy tool she’s never without. She has a second one in case the first one gets broken or lost somehow. ~A bag of assorted tricks, usually including a bit of food, a grappling hook on a length of light but sturdy rope, a small metal mirror, some stick-on bandages, a few safety pins, heavy-duty tape, some string, a permanent marker, and various things to assist in pranking. Relationships: Gaius Stronurr - Nikki admires and respects Gaius, and she /loves/ his stories. She’s probably run afoul of him a few times, stealing things and making him chase her down to get them back. Respecting him, it seems, is not enough to make her listen to him. (Would he realize she views it as a game? I mean, if he stopped chasing, she’d stop doing it with the intention of him chasing her down. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t aim for other people to chase her, though.) Forrest Everfree - she’s a bit jealous of his freedom, and imagines life without parental figures telling you what to do as fun. Not that she wants to lose her parents, but the lack of a supervising authority appeals to her. As a child she found him fascinating, and often followed him around, eventually convincing him to teach her how to pickpocket and other minor thief skills. Eli Wyn - friend and frequent co-conspirator. Nikki is impressed by what he knows about gliders, and has actually learned a bit about them from him. His quest for excitement fits well with her own, and as wild as they are separately, get the two together and it’s even more intense. He’s the one that introduced her to Rahna and Blin/Brytag. Rahna Altema - Eli introduced the two, and they get on fairly well. Nikki enjoys racing with her and some of the others. She’s also learned that playing on Rahna’s curiosity is a great way to get her to go along with things she might not otherwise. Blin "Brytag" Alborse - He’s quiet and he always looks half-asleep, but he’s not bad. And he has some of the craziest dreams! Palling around with Eli and Rahna means she’s friends with him too. Blank - Nikki’s not sure if she likes bothering him or just plain /likes/ him, but she’s certainly fond of the mysterious teen. Since his arrival two years ago, she has found him an irresistible target for teasing. He’s so cute when he blushes~ Despite his good-natured complaining, the two are pretty tight now, though initially she had to construct circumstances that made adventures unavoidable when he balked at less forceful attempts to bring him along. She’s nothing if not persistent. Tivo Sol - Nikki's encountered him a couple times, both in town and out near ruins, but they're not close or anything. Kelari Halder - she's friendly, and she tells interesting tales. What's not to like? Nikki is at least on friendly terms with her, though she's probably tried to use Kelari's equipment at least once. Without permission. She got her tattoo at Kelari's parlor, a small pair of stylized wings on her shoulder blades. Hurt like anything, but the result was worth it~ Song: Dangerous, by Within Temptation

Eventually, Lee finished the hair ornament. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the gems she'd positioned in specific ways, round white stones near the edges making the ornament give off a light summery air. Lee picked up a rag and dipped in a shallow bowl of oil, gently working the liquid around each of the gems and letting the scent of lavender fill her shop. She used a small ball of cotton to work the oil into the smaller crevices, wanting to be sure that all of the ornament would shine when used. After setting it down, she wiped her hands on a clean cloth and picked up the hair ornament, standing and walking to the back of the shop once more. Picking up a strip of soft fabric, she wrapped it around the finished work and then carefully tucked it under the sharp brambles. Lee looked up as she heard the familiar sound of sandals clacking against the ground and two voices shouting. Apparently her brothers awake. If she knew them as well as she did, she'd know that in about half an hour they'd be coming down from their rooms and demanding breakfast. They had enough food to have a good breakfast, both her father and brothers knowing how to cook relatively well enough to put together a meal. Lee wasn't too hungry at the moment though, wanting to know if there was anything else to be done in the house before she left. Everything was clean and put away, all her work done. The sun was high in the sky and after checking the kitchen, Lee decided it was a good day to go shopping for groceries. After putting on a pair of slightly more comfortable outdoor slippers and her sunhat, Lee picked up a few of her cloth grocery bags and finally headed outside, leather purse in her palm. She let it's leather drawstring loop twice around her wrist, not liking the idea of it getting stolen. The market was already fairly busy, vendors out with carts, selling fruits, vegetables, spices and an overall large variety of foods that smelled absolutely fantastic. The woman adjusted her hat, brushing the blue ribbon out of her face before striding down the pathway. She needed to stock up on proteins, vegetables and certain fruits at the moment. Fera was craving pegiros, which were a new fruit that was shaped like a pear but tasted like watermelon yet had the inner texture and look of the insides of a pink kiwi. Who was Lee to deny her little brother the simple pleasure of strange fruit? As she walked back, arms full of bags and biting into a nectarine, she thought of visiting Kelari. She hadn't seen her good friend in quite some time and was very interested in seeing what she'd been up to these past few days. Probably designing something or other. Lee loved to watch Kelari work but always worried that she'd be bothering her if she just sat there. Silvertongue disliked being a bother to people, especially if they were close friends. Eventually Lee found herself at the parlor shop door, peering in and calling out. "Kela? I'm here! It's Lee."

NAME: Lee Silvertongue ABSTRACT: A painfully creative young woman that has a tendency to get along better with inanimate objects and materials than people. APPEARANCE: Twenty-three years old, 5'8''. Pale with thick,short, wavy black hair that just touches her jawline. Dark eyes and a lean physique. Scars along her fingers and hands. DETAIL: History: Currently, she helps out at her Father's shop and maintains her own on the side. Lee works with precious stones and gems for the most part, polishing, cutting them and engraving them. She's very good with her hands, using her skills for a variety of jobs that range from decorating the hilts of weapons to cutting the smallest gems for jewelry. Her own shop has more to do with the art she creates with paints and her thread, trinkets she makes out of colored glass and sits out for people to see. She rarely goes outside but if she does she tends to either spend the time alone of with her two younger twin brothers and teaching them about their surroundings or collecting materials for her new project. Her father is almost always busy and her mother passed away of an illness shortly after the twins were born, so she takes on the maternal role in their home. Personality: Lee isn't against being with others or conversing with them but she is soft-spoken and worries too much about what people may think of her. She prefers to stay in her or her father's shop, singing to herself as she works through the day. While she's a hard worker she doesn't mind to throw the occasional afternoon away to just laze around under the warm sun. She's caring and fairly intelligent, but can be very protective when it comes to her family.

Blank stood stunned for a moment. No matter how many times Nikki teased him like that, it always had the same effect on him. Still, somehow it felt different this time, and what had she meant by... He shook off his stupor. There was no way, she was just teasing him like she always did. Either she didn't know how much it effected him or, more likely, she did know and enjoyed every second of it. Regardless, if he didn't keep up with her she would undoubtedly get herself arrested or worse, so he took off after her, casting an apologetic look back to Gaius with a silent promise to make sure she behaved herself. "Nikki!" He called as he ran, one hand on his sword to keep it from bouncing around, "Weren't you just saying you wanted to see me get beaten? The training grounds are that way!"

NAME: Blank ABSTRACT: A mysterious teen who crashed on the Island. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: History: Two years ago, Blank crashed on the Island riding a strangely shaped hang glider, carrying only his bag of supplies and his sword. He was taken in by one of the families after admitting he had no memories, but since then only a vague sense of some purpose has returned to him. Personality: Blank is quiet and thoughtful, but kind hearted. He might be a warrior, since he has some skill with the sword, but he knows as little as a newborn, relying on instinct to interact with people. He tries to avoid contact with people he doesn't know, is almost adorably shy, and is always happy to let someone else take the lead. Equipment: Sword Bag containing dried food and water. Strange hang glider.

Rahna Altema She always forgot to tell Eli about why she didn't want him to talk to her mom. And she'll probably keep forgetting every time since they always go out to do something silly. She shook her head slightly with a small sigh, "I'm more worried that my mother would embarrass me instead. Also, you'd never be able to leave if she started a conversation with you." She replied with a somewhat amused look. She noticed that Eli had spotted the bandages on her arm, she subconsciously hide her injury behind her back, giving him a cheerful smile. "It's okay! Really. I-I'm just not used to the glider yet, that's all." She didn't want Eli to feel down about her injury. She didn't want to spoil the fun by making him worry about her. He'd endured much worse than this, she knew because she was always the one treating his wounds, but his unfaltering, adrenaline filled attitude is what kept him going, and that's what she really admired about him. She also didn't believe the words that came out of his mouth. She knew her best friend. He was really looking forward to this race. A small darkness swelled in her mind. She was making this difficult for Eli.. negative thoughts ran through her head.. However, his next suggestion eased her conscience a little. Perhaps even amused her a little, because she noticed how long he paused for, ending with "Talk?" Rahna realized that he never really did anything that was considered 'normal', like talking. Conversations. Perhaps she should've left him to talk to her mom. She giggled when his smile returned. "Of course, I'd love to talk with you~ I haven't really had a day to relax in awhile, so it'll be nice." She responded finally, giving him a warm smile. She quickly jogged around the corner of her house, retrieving her glider and jogged back over to Eli. "I know it's not very far, but shall we race to our usual spot?" She suggested with a grin on her face. Their usual spot was only an island away, so it really wasn't far enough to make for a proper race, since it was just a straight line. However, Rahna decided to entertain the idea to keep Eli's spirits up.

NAME: Rahna Altema Age: 18 Height: 5'7" ABSTRACT: A cheerful young girl with a natural curiosity APPEARANCE: DETAIL: Like many of the other citizens of Heron, Rahna is quite adept at using her glider to get from place to place. Often she’d play with the other kids her age, having glider races and doing tricks on them. Although she was never the winner of said races, she kept her spirits up by cheering for the people that did. She was never really one for competitions, she just wanted everyone to have fun. She enjoys learning about random things and about other people. Some say she’s nosy, others say she’s just naturally curious. The latter would be correct. However, she knows what she shouldn’t be too curious about based on how people talk about whatever it is. But what she truly excelled at learning about was Herbalism, much to the delight of her mother, who was also a Herbalist. More often than not, she was the first person people would approach about small injuries and minor ailments. Despite her cheerful nature, she can easily wind up in a situation where she doubts her abilities. Equipment: Hang-glider (Pretty basic, has bird wings painted on the wings of the glider.) Notebook and charcoal (Filled with random pieces of knowledge on various things. Rather unorganized (Unless it's her plant encyclopedias), yet detailed. Mostly herbalist notes.) Leather sling bag (containing various vials of salves and herbs... and the occasional fruit for a snack) Small harvesting knife

Nikki neither slowed nor changed direction. "I know they are, but this way's faster~" she called back, still laughing. "It's a shortcut. Just be careful, you don't wanna fall!" She leaped off the edge of a short drop, landing in a crouch at the bottom and following a path half-overtaken by grass and following it around a bend and over a rope bridge that had seen better days. She didn't even break her stride as she darted across, though the placement of her feet was clearly carefully considered, and none of the boards she stepped on were damaged enough to break at the impact. The bridge, or rather what ws left of it, was both rickety and missing planks, and a careless step might easily spell disaster -- particularly since only one of the side ropes was still whole. In short, precisely the sort of route Nikki would pick, given the opportunity.

Name: Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt Abstract: friendly prankster with a clever mind and an appetite for adventure (Ignore the cat attributes, but that's basically Nikki, in her original form. Modifications have been made.) Appearance: Nikki is a nineteen-year-old of about average height, with a solid build that evidences the fact that she’s always on the go. She keeps her blond hair cut at her jawline, and her light brown eyes are lively. She prefers to wear flattering clothes, generally showing as much tanned skin as she can get away with. She loves black clothing, and it’s always something that lets her move freely and won’t get in the way when she’s up to her usual activities. She generally wears a pair of woven bracelets with amber and green stones, and shoes are usually a pair of solid-soled sandals with straps so she doesn’t lose them. Details: Nikki grew up with her father after her parents separated. She knows and loves her mother as well, but the woman’s job as a trader often took her far from home. Her father, Jasper, runs a general shop in town. Nikki herself has very little patience for work and doesn’t have an official job, instead doing odd jobs for various people. Instead of a real occupation, she prefers to get into adventures -- or trouble. She’s been filling her time with both since she was old enough to walk. She tried to pay attention to lessons and such, and did alright, but daydreaming or just wandering off wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’s a nice person, if perhaps overly exuberant, though her tendency to tease and play pranks can certainly seem mean. But she wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, and is more or less harmless. She’s quick and agile, with an ability to keep her feet under her even in difficult situations that would put many cats to shame. She knows how to use a knife, and can hit a target from a couple yards away, but that’s only in controlled circumstances. If it came to an actual fight, Nikki is far more likely to keep hold of her knife and use whatever is to hand, often in unusual ways. She’s pretty creative when it comes to innovative solutions to problems, though not all of them would be wise to attempt. The girl has a tendency not to think things through that ends her up in trouble as often as not. She actively courts disaster, be it trying crazy stunts or stealing a bun from a food stall for the thrill of getting chased. She revels in danger, carefully balancing on the line between wild and downright crazy. Telling her not to do something is one of the best ways to get her to try; if you don’t want her to eavesdrop, you’re better off discussing something boring for a bit instead of lowering your voice. She’s a superb flier, mostly because she has to be with all the stunts she tries, and enjoys flying second only to exploring. Well. Maybe third if you count pranks? Something like that. Her approach to life is one of humor and gleeful optimism, diving headlong into every opportunity that comes her way. When she decides to do something, she commits herself fully and holds nothing back. Life is something to be enjoyed, and she plans to do that to the utmost. Other: ~ Glider that’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s fast and very maneuverable. She just can’t carry too much of anything besides herself. She’s damaged it with stunts more times than can be remembered, but while battered it’s held up pretty well. Her father decided that if his daughter couldn’t be prevented from risking her life trying crazy tricks, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t the fault of her wings should she get hurt. ~Lockpicks, because you never know what interesting things might need opening. She totally doesn’t use them on things that actually belong to people though. Usually. Most of the time. Well, okay, she does, but she puts everything back where she’s found it, so it’s okay, right? ~Her knife is a handy tool she’s never without. She has a second one in case the first one gets broken or lost somehow. ~A bag of assorted tricks, usually including a bit of food, a grappling hook on a length of light but sturdy rope, a small metal mirror, some stick-on bandages, a few safety pins, heavy-duty tape, some string, a permanent marker, and various things to assist in pranking. Relationships: Gaius Stronurr - Nikki admires and respects Gaius, and she /loves/ his stories. She’s probably run afoul of him a few times, stealing things and making him chase her down to get them back. Respecting him, it seems, is not enough to make her listen to him. (Would he realize she views it as a game? I mean, if he stopped chasing, she’d stop doing it with the intention of him chasing her down. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t aim for other people to chase her, though.) Forrest Everfree - she’s a bit jealous of his freedom, and imagines life without parental figures telling you what to do as fun. Not that she wants to lose her parents, but the lack of a supervising authority appeals to her. As a child she found him fascinating, and often followed him around, eventually convincing him to teach her how to pickpocket and other minor thief skills. Eli Wyn - friend and frequent co-conspirator. Nikki is impressed by what he knows about gliders, and has actually learned a bit about them from him. His quest for excitement fits well with her own, and as wild as they are separately, get the two together and it’s even more intense. He’s the one that introduced her to Rahna and Blin/Brytag. Rahna Altema - Eli introduced the two, and they get on fairly well. Nikki enjoys racing with her and some of the others. She’s also learned that playing on Rahna’s curiosity is a great way to get her to go along with things she might not otherwise. Blin "Brytag" Alborse - He’s quiet and he always looks half-asleep, but he’s not bad. And he has some of the craziest dreams! Palling around with Eli and Rahna means she’s friends with him too. Blank - Nikki’s not sure if she likes bothering him or just plain /likes/ him, but she’s certainly fond of the mysterious teen. Since his arrival two years ago, she has found him an irresistible target for teasing. He’s so cute when he blushes~ Despite his good-natured complaining, the two are pretty tight now, though initially she had to construct circumstances that made adventures unavoidable when he balked at less forceful attempts to bring him along. She’s nothing if not persistent. Tivo Sol - Nikki's encountered him a couple times, both in town and out near ruins, but they're not close or anything. Kelari Halder - she's friendly, and she tells interesting tales. What's not to like? Nikki is at least on friendly terms with her, though she's probably tried to use Kelari's equipment at least once. Without permission. She got her tattoo at Kelari's parlor, a small pair of stylized wings on her shoulder blades. Hurt like anything, but the result was worth it~ Song: Dangerous, by Within Temptation

Thema Absher Thema had been walking for a while. Nowhere in particular. Not like she had anything else to do. She hummed to herself as she walked, but was interrupted by someone speaking quite loudly and near her. "Hey! Where'd you get that lute from?" Thema stopped. She quickly glanced around her. Nobody else had a lute. The only person with any sort of instrument nearby was her. The question was quite simple. Where did she get her lute? She didn't actually remember ever getting it. It was always just there, with her, back to even her earliest memories. Though, she would have gotten it at some point. Most likely a gift or a heirloom from her mother. She turned around and looked at the boy behind her. He looked quite similar, but Thema couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was mostly the hair, but who else did Thema know that had hair like that. She then realized that the boy had almost the same hairstyle as her, except it had been let free instead of being tied back. Thema thought it was quite intriguing how similar this boy looked to her, but she didn't really care enough to vocalize it. "Hmm? This lute?" Thema said as she pointed to the instrument on her hips. "Don't quite remember. Had it as long as I can remember."

NAME - Thema Absher ABSTRACT - A washed-up bard looking for inspiration. APPEARANCE Thema stands at 5'3". Her hair is almost always tied up. She has considerably darker skin compared to everyone else and tends to wear extremely light and loose clothing, even in the winter. She wears quite ornate jewelry, however, they are all heirlooms from her mother. DETAILS Personality: Thema is a musician and quite a good one at that. She tends to be really jokey and can't take a lot of stuff seriously. Her main goal in life is to find a song that truly can state how she feels about the world; that, however, is hard because while she can write lyrics, said lyrics don't quite have an emotional impact (to her, at least). She also sucks at gliding. Like, really hard. She's okay at gliding, but doesn't know how to land. Equipment: Thema's Glider - While it appears to be normal, the thing has been completely destroyed and rebuilt multiple times. As such, the frame breaks extremely easily, but it can be repaired within minutes. Thema's Lute - Plays nice sounds. Tunable. Thema plays it quite well. Ornate Jewelry - A heirloom from Thema's mother. Looks nice and is made from rather rare metals. It doesn't appear to have any immediate use.

Eli Wyn Huh, who would have thought that a suggestion as normal as 'talk' would bring forth such a good reaction. Eli might just make a mental note to do that sort of thing more often. Not all the time, of course, but every now and then wouldn't hurt. "You should've mentioned it, it's important to relax every now and then! Otherwise you'll burn yourself out," Coming from someone who basically relaxed only when he was too beat up to get up and do something, maybe his sentence didn't hold as much weight as it should have. Plus, he wasn't exactly known to make wise statements. "Details, details..." Eli thought to himself as he scratched the back of his head, grinning. For the first time in a long while, though, he wasn't really feeling bad about not doing something incredibly adrenaline pumping. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to spending his time than indulging in crazy stunts, "Hm..." "I know it's not very far, but shall we race to our usual spot?" All the serious thoughts had slipped away at once, because now - now they were talking. Eli was never the one to decline a race. And he sure as hell wouldn't start being the one today. Besides, it was a short distance away, so what could go wrong? "Hah! I thought you would never ask." Eli proclaimed as he turned around and sprinted towards his glider. It was good having a friends like Rahna around. He waited for her to reach him before dashing towards the edge and jumping off. That familiar sense of happiness reared its head, before another sense pushed its way in. "Why do I feel like something's wrong?" he asked no one in particular as he felt the wind hit his face, noticing a white patch of something fuzzy in close proximity. Oh yeah. He forgot to put his glasses on. Again.

NAME: Eli Wyn - Age: 17 - Height: 5'8'' ABSTRACT: Adrenaline junkie that tries to make the best out of every situation - a ball of caffeine. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: - Personality: Legend goes that Eli fell on his head when he was a small boy, at least that's what his older sister tells people when she needs to explain why Eli did whatever stupid thing he did. It's not as if Eli is not a smart cookie - he may not be the smartest one in a jar, but he ain't stupid, just a little bit on the crazy side. He likes all things that bring that tingling gut feeling to the table. The more butterflies in his stomach he feels, the better. And since almost nothing of note happens in the village, he needs to make things happen. People call his stunts idiotic, crazy, suicidal... but mostly idiotic - but Eli does what he needs to do to bring at least some excitement into his life. Why would you simply go around a fence and enter through a gate if you can jump over it? Without using hands, of course. - History: Eli often helps his sister out with her job of being a pre-school teacher. Well, he is merely an errand boy, going to fetch whatever materials she needs and bringing them back to her. Often being a few hours late. It gives him something to do and it works as a good excuse for him not being in the house. And he gets to interact with people, which is always awesome in his book. Interestingly enough, it is his mother that allowed him to help his sister without him having to ask twice. As far as Eli knows, she feels nostalgic about the days when she was as carefree as him. EQUIPMENT: -a hand-glider | "expertly" modified by the "king of gliders", Eli, so it can go a faster, but it makes it that much harder to turn. Worth it. - a leather bag and a can of soda | Sky Kola - best refreshment on this side of the sky Blin "The Bro" Alborse - one of the closest friends Eli has. Although they are not overly similar personality wise, there are certain things that make them compatible. And man, he has a vivid imagination - making him instawesome. Rahna A.K.A The Bestie - he wouldn't trade her for all the excitement in the world. That tells you a lot. Forrest - once stole his sweet roll. Still owes him a sweet roll. Gaius A.K.A Don't Crash Into Him - otherwise he'll yell. Aurora - the girl Eli once mistakenly called his girlfriend. She hates his guts now. At least that's what she claims. Kelari - A master of the tattoo art, incredibly talented and artistic. Admires her work. Damn - he wants that tattoo. Lee - ?? Braum - ?? Thema - ?? Blank - "That handsome bastard that came out of nowhere." Tivo - ?? Sera - ?? Nikki - There is a fairly peculiar relationship with Nikki. Started on a really high note, with a small, five year old Eli idolizing Nikki. Then it took a sharp turn because Eli is, as everyone knows, the King of Stunts - considering their personalities, that was reason enough for a fairly hot rivalry to arose between the two. Legend goes they are still competing to this very day.

Gaius Stronurr The Marketing District Gaius huffed as Nikki and Blank wandered off towards the castle- Or towards wherever the hell Nikki had decided to lead them. But with his path clear, the iron giant trudged onward, out of the market district and towards the castle grounds. Hopefully nobody else would get in his way. For a moment, the arched entrance way felt alien. It'd been a while since Gaius had been summoned by the king, and longer since he'd felt an unease gripping his throat. He looked up at the morning sky reflexively, but there was nothing there. Nothing except the low-hanging clouds and local feathered friends twittering about, anyways. Gaius huffed again, forcing his body into motion through the castle courtyard, and past his fellow guards, who all greeted him with a subtle salute. What a happy bunch! The guards were usually like that. Life up in the sky was quaint, and crime was sparse. A shimmer of sunlight caught water in the courtyard's fountain before striking Gaius's helmet. He rose one hand to block his eyes and picked up his pace ever so slightly, hailing each guard that he passed on his way to the castle's main entrance. Arriving inside, it was a straight path through a set of double doors and up a small ramp that lead into the king's chamber. Hopefully his highness would be there, and Gaius wouldn't be left waiting for his return.

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

((collab with )) Nikki’s proposed shortcut was indeed shorter, even though Blank didn’t follow quite as fast, needing to keep an eye on where he stepped instead of knowing the safe spots by heart as the young woman clearly did. Nonetheless, the pair made excellent time to the castle. However, instead of heading for the training grounds once they were past the wall, she made for the kitchen door. The head cook, a giant of a man with broad shoulders and nut-brown skin, greeted her moments later. He had a strong voice, and while he seemed suited to his apron and the dusting of flour on his front, he would likely be no more out of place at a forge. “Nikki!” he exclaimed, teeth shining white in his dark face. “What trouble are you up to today?” The young woman grinned back. “Nothing much, Delshad~ Gaius is going to see the king! And I was thinking I could...ah...look in as well.” “He might not be pleased with that, Nikki,” the large man cautioned. “True, but he’d have to notice me first,” she replied blithely. Delshad shook his head. “Ah, I know it is useless to try to convince you not to try,” he replied, switching his gaze to Blank. “You poor lad, I have no idea how you keep up with her. But do try to keep her from getting in too much trouble, yes?” Amusement glittered in his dark eyes. “And here, before you go.” A massive hand held out a small pasty to each of them. “You in particular need to put more meat on those lanky bones of yours,” the man said to Blank. Blank smiled sheepishly and gratefully accepted the food. “Thank you, Delshad, I’ll do my best.” He lingered for a moment, uncertain. Delshad handed out extra food like it was going out of style, but Blank always felt a little guilty for taking something he hadn’t worked for. The cook wouldn’t hear it when he tried to pay for it though, so he was at a loss. He did turn to follow Nikki again though, waving one last time to the friendly chef. By the time he caught up with her, Nikki was almost to the stairs. She was moving a bit more slowly now, making sure her footfalls were quiet. “C’mon, if we go to the gallery, we’ll be able to listen in without being seen~” she told him softly, before continuing on. The few guards were easy to avoid -- this was not her first time slinking about the castle, and inside had far fewer roaming soldiers than out. She knew their posts, and paths to avoid them. The gallery itself wasn’t someplace she’d been more than a couple times, mostly because the throne room was primarily for business (or so she believed). But if Gaius had been summoned, maybe it would be interesting -- he was a knight, after all. And besides, if she knew what he would be doing, it was likely an opportunity would present itself for a prank. The teen could already see the irritated set of his shoulders and tilt of his helmet. She grinned.

Name: Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt Abstract: friendly prankster with a clever mind and an appetite for adventure (Ignore the cat attributes, but that's basically Nikki, in her original form. Modifications have been made.) Appearance: Nikki is a nineteen-year-old of about average height, with a solid build that evidences the fact that she’s always on the go. She keeps her blond hair cut at her jawline, and her light brown eyes are lively. She prefers to wear flattering clothes, generally showing as much tanned skin as she can get away with. She loves black clothing, and it’s always something that lets her move freely and won’t get in the way when she’s up to her usual activities. She generally wears a pair of woven bracelets with amber and green stones, and shoes are usually a pair of solid-soled sandals with straps so she doesn’t lose them. Details: Nikki grew up with her father after her parents separated. She knows and loves her mother as well, but the woman’s job as a trader often took her far from home. Her father, Jasper, runs a general shop in town. Nikki herself has very little patience for work and doesn’t have an official job, instead doing odd jobs for various people. Instead of a real occupation, she prefers to get into adventures -- or trouble. She’s been filling her time with both since she was old enough to walk. She tried to pay attention to lessons and such, and did alright, but daydreaming or just wandering off wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’s a nice person, if perhaps overly exuberant, though her tendency to tease and play pranks can certainly seem mean. But she wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, and is more or less harmless. She’s quick and agile, with an ability to keep her feet under her even in difficult situations that would put many cats to shame. She knows how to use a knife, and can hit a target from a couple yards away, but that’s only in controlled circumstances. If it came to an actual fight, Nikki is far more likely to keep hold of her knife and use whatever is to hand, often in unusual ways. She’s pretty creative when it comes to innovative solutions to problems, though not all of them would be wise to attempt. The girl has a tendency not to think things through that ends her up in trouble as often as not. She actively courts disaster, be it trying crazy stunts or stealing a bun from a food stall for the thrill of getting chased. She revels in danger, carefully balancing on the line between wild and downright crazy. Telling her not to do something is one of the best ways to get her to try; if you don’t want her to eavesdrop, you’re better off discussing something boring for a bit instead of lowering your voice. She’s a superb flier, mostly because she has to be with all the stunts she tries, and enjoys flying second only to exploring. Well. Maybe third if you count pranks? Something like that. Her approach to life is one of humor and gleeful optimism, diving headlong into every opportunity that comes her way. When she decides to do something, she commits herself fully and holds nothing back. Life is something to be enjoyed, and she plans to do that to the utmost. Other: ~ Glider that’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s fast and very maneuverable. She just can’t carry too much of anything besides herself. She’s damaged it with stunts more times than can be remembered, but while battered it’s held up pretty well. Her father decided that if his daughter couldn’t be prevented from risking her life trying crazy tricks, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t the fault of her wings should she get hurt. ~Lockpicks, because you never know what interesting things might need opening. She totally doesn’t use them on things that actually belong to people though. Usually. Most of the time. Well, okay, she does, but she puts everything back where she’s found it, so it’s okay, right? ~Her knife is a handy tool she’s never without. She has a second one in case the first one gets broken or lost somehow. ~A bag of assorted tricks, usually including a bit of food, a grappling hook on a length of light but sturdy rope, a small metal mirror, some stick-on bandages, a few safety pins, heavy-duty tape, some string, a permanent marker, and various things to assist in pranking. Relationships: Gaius Stronurr - Nikki admires and respects Gaius, and she /loves/ his stories. She’s probably run afoul of him a few times, stealing things and making him chase her down to get them back. Respecting him, it seems, is not enough to make her listen to him. (Would he realize she views it as a game? I mean, if he stopped chasing, she’d stop doing it with the intention of him chasing her down. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t aim for other people to chase her, though.) Forrest Everfree - she’s a bit jealous of his freedom, and imagines life without parental figures telling you what to do as fun. Not that she wants to lose her parents, but the lack of a supervising authority appeals to her. As a child she found him fascinating, and often followed him around, eventually convincing him to teach her how to pickpocket and other minor thief skills. Eli Wyn - friend and frequent co-conspirator. Nikki is impressed by what he knows about gliders, and has actually learned a bit about them from him. His quest for excitement fits well with her own, and as wild as they are separately, get the two together and it’s even more intense. He’s the one that introduced her to Rahna and Blin/Brytag. Rahna Altema - Eli introduced the two, and they get on fairly well. Nikki enjoys racing with her and some of the others. She’s also learned that playing on Rahna’s curiosity is a great way to get her to go along with things she might not otherwise. Blin "Brytag" Alborse - He’s quiet and he always looks half-asleep, but he’s not bad. And he has some of the craziest dreams! Palling around with Eli and Rahna means she’s friends with him too. Blank - Nikki’s not sure if she likes bothering him or just plain /likes/ him, but she’s certainly fond of the mysterious teen. Since his arrival two years ago, she has found him an irresistible target for teasing. He’s so cute when he blushes~ Despite his good-natured complaining, the two are pretty tight now, though initially she had to construct circumstances that made adventures unavoidable when he balked at less forceful attempts to bring him along. She’s nothing if not persistent. Tivo Sol - Nikki's encountered him a couple times, both in town and out near ruins, but they're not close or anything. Kelari Halder - she's friendly, and she tells interesting tales. What's not to like? Nikki is at least on friendly terms with her, though she's probably tried to use Kelari's equipment at least once. Without permission. She got her tattoo at Kelari's parlor, a small pair of stylized wings on her shoulder blades. Hurt like anything, but the result was worth it~ Song: Dangerous, by Within Temptation

Tivo Sol Tivo idly quirked a brow in response to Themba's answer. It certainly wasn't an answer he was expecting, that's for sure. Really, her reply only piqued his curiosity further. One of the first things the boy noticed was just how short she was. There were't many women that he knew who stood at the stunted height at which Themba did, and he would admit to himself that he certainly wasn't tall either. Quite abruptly, Tivo allowed for the equipment he carried on his shoulder to simply fall off of his shoulders and land on the ground with a 'thump' before taking a seat right in the middle of the path, as if preparing to settle in for quite a while. The boy, after assuming a criss-cross sitting position on the ground with his hands upon his knees, looked up at Themba. As he eyed the woman, he took in the various details adorning her body -- jewelry, face paint, sandals, the relatively revealing top. Her apparel greatly interested Tivo, but that was probably because she seemed to contain a carefree soul akin to his own. Also, what he especially noticed was her hair, which was incredibly similar to his own. This sort of hairstyle wasn't one he had seen often in Heron. After shifting about some to adjust himself into a slightly more comfortable position, he rattled off his first question. "That's pretty interesting, I gotta admit. Can you play it well?" A moment afterwards, another question came to his mind. "Oh, can you sing, too? Written any songs yet? Can I take a look at some you've written down? I mean, if you've written some down."

NAME: Tivo Sol ABSTRACT: Friendly, carefree boy who wholeheartedly enjoys the outdoors and the company of others -- and the opportunity to escape from Heron to go on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. 5'6", 17 years old, athletic thin build, black dreadlocks and caramel-colored skin, dark brown eyes. DETAIL: Besides the clothes on his back, Tivo carries a shoulder-slung pouch which holds a pencil, a notebook, various wheat-based snacks. He carries his glider on his back along with a triangular-headed furrowing hoe, both haphazardly strapped to his back with a multitude of make-shift leather straps.

“C’mon, if we go to the gallery, we’ll be able to listen in without being seen~” From their awkward vantage point, they could see the old king hunched in a wash of sunlight. His white hair shone like a scraggled halo, his red robe was thin and tired with age, and he leaned on his wooden staff as if he might fall out of the throne otherwise. The king raised his watery eyes as Gaius clanked forward. "RATS!" This was a shout from behind Nikki and Blank, where a young guard stood akimbo and glaring. She'd approached in careful silence, just to make the sneaky teens jump. "You two! Out! Move it! Git! The training grounds for the both of ya, we'll use ya fer target practice!" She stomped forward and stood directly in the way of the view of the king, arms folded and a smirk on her face. Today, they were busted -- but there was always tomorrow. Tivo allowed for the equipment he carried on his shoulder to simply fall off of his shoulders and land on the ground with a 'thump' before taking a seat right in the middle of the path, as if preparing to settle in for quite a while. Overhead, an occasional streak of light flashed in the sky: a meteor shower, barely visible in the bright sunlight. "Why do I feel like something's wrong?" A flock of starlings surged like a wave over the edge of the island from below; they swirled and looped and billowed around the high forested rocks, passing with a wave of glimmering wings underneath Eli and Rahna. They flooded across the island and disappeared among the trees. "Kela? I'm here! It's Lee." The parlor was empty, as if no one had been there all morning. There was a box inside the door, full of the same paints that Lee had given to Blin earlier -- as well as a gold marble, tucked in a corner of the box. He swore to himself that he would not close his eyes this time. A sudden updraft roared all around the small island where the library sat. The ground felt slightly tipsy for a few moments, rocking just slightly enough to feel sick -- and then the rope bridge to the mainland snapped. The library island had sunk a few feet, and drifted a few feet farther from the village proper, and spun only a bit before it settled again. At least Blin was closer to the farm, now. "I'm out of money, so this is my last one." A furry little creature crept closer to Sera's feet as she ate. It was lanky as a snow-white weasel, with long ears and a tufted tail. The critter rose up on its haunches, wriggling its whiskers hopefully, staring with glittering eyes at Sera's pie. Hopefully his highness would be there, and Gaius wouldn't be left waiting for his return. art by Renju Mv The king stared in silence at Gaius for a long while. Behind Gaius and to the side was a muffled shout and a noise of scrabbling movement -- then silence again. A songbird outside warbled. "Gaius." The old king tightened his grip on his staff, and he wavered slightly side to side. The king always had an attendant at his side in case he began to fall over -- but that attendant was missing today. "Something is going to happen." In the distance, outside the window, the shouts and swords of the training grounds echoed. The king was quiet again. He appeared to have fallen asleep. "Protect Sera." The king's gray eyes opened. "Watch over Tivo of the ruin. And keep a careful eye on that boy with no past." He said nothing else, but he stared at Gaius through dim eyes until he was certain he'd been understood. He raised a gnarled hand and waved him away, a dismissal. That was all. art by Geoffrey Ernault ♫ At dusk, the king got up and began to shuffle his way toward the doors of the castle. The dimming light made clear the streaks and flashes in the sky: the meteors were falling thickly across the stars, a light show that the village had gathered in the streets to watch. Every telescope was pointed at the stars. Gliders had been grounded to avoid blocking the view -- though an occasional rebel swirled overhead, much to the outrage of those watching from below. Just as the king reached the open castle doors, a huge streak of white light passed overhead. The village let out a collective gasp of wonder as the falling star lit up their faces. It spanned the sky, flashing and burning all the way into the distance. It disappeared on the distant horizon with an explosive flash that lit up silhouettes of mountains. A few seconds later, they could hear a low rumble like thunder. The king had made it to the banister outside the castle. He raised an arm and shouted to the wind and to the people gathered on the streets below -- but not a word of what he said could be heard. He coughed and wheezed, then motioned for his attendant to come close. "His Majesty the King of the Island-in-the-Sky," the attendant shouted clearly to the people of the village, "hereby proclaims that at the first light of dawn a search party shall gather at the eastern cliffs for the purpose of retrieving the star we have just witnessed to have fallen." The attendant paused and stooped a bit to hear what the king was mumbling. "One out of the party that returns with the star will be named heir to the throne. The rest will be appointed to the council and will be made royalty." The attendant stood idly for a moment, assuming he was finished -- but leaned down again when the king tugged on his sleeve. "To anyone who plans to gain these rights deceitfully -- the king himself promises to kick your ass." The old king grinned and nodded slowly, hunched over his staff. The town criers made certain this message was spread throughout the village and its outskirts and the ruins beyond within the hour; gliders and messengers and carrier pigeons scattered throughout the islands. The starry sky was calm and clear. At dawn, the Weather Man floated above in his balloon, signaling the spot where the adventurers would gather. Crowds of villagers brought cakes and dried meat, lengths of rope and filled backpacks, repair kits for gliders and hooked lanterns for night-flying, hoping to send off the search party well-stocked and well-fed. None of them had ever been to the surface, but all of them had warnings or questions or requests for souvenirs or stories. All of them wondered, behind their smiling faces, whether any of the explorers would ever return. The sun rose behind the distant mountains, marking the spot where the star had fallen. Between here and there was a sea of forest and mist, and a spiraling flock of sparrows.

art by John Thacker THE CAST Kelari Halder Blin "Brytag" Alborse Rahna Altema Lee Silvertongue Eli Wyn Forrest Everfree Gaius Stronurr Braum Jormungandr Thema Absher Blank Aurora Philman Tivo Sol Sera Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt

Sera blinked at the little creature, then she smiled. "You want some?" She ripped off a piece of pie and laid it next to her on the bench inviting the furred one to jump up and nibble on it. Sure enough, the little critter did exactly that and Sera happily petted it. In moments like this, Sera's tough-girl surface melted away and her soft, caring core showed. But only until she caught herself. She straightened her composure again, waved goodbye to the little animal and went shopping for foodstuff and other necessities needed for another expedition. Hours later, the sun had already set when Sera finally finished all her preparations for her scavenging hunt that would begin as soon as the sun was up. She planned to go to bed pretty soon, but for now, she enjoyed watching the orange sky and the light show above it. Suddenly the sky lit up even more as a blue-white star races across it and plummeted towards the ground. A shattering white light banished the orange of the setting sun for a moment, before a shattering sound made the ground beneath her wobble. She wasn't very superstitious, but such a thing certainly carried some meaning, even for her. Maybe it was the heavens telling her to stay at home, but maybe the opposite, she wasn't sure. However, she was sure as soon as she heard the town criers call out the will of the king, whose castle was literally on the other side of the island from Sera. "I'd never have any monetary trouble anymore... no more fearing to die from starvation...", she contemplated. She had packed her stuff for a multiple week journey anyway and she could certainly stretch it to a period of 2 months. There was one thing she did need to do before she started. Sera grabbed her trusty stick from her rack, moved into her tool chamber and grabbed an iron halberd head and proceeded to nail it onto the stick fitting quite perfectly. "Great!" Carefully she swung the halberd and poked a stuffed bad with it. Satisfied with the quality of the new weapon, she nodded, hung it onto the rack from which she took the stick earlier. Even before the sun had fully risen, Sera was already up and on her way to the mentioned meeting point. When the sun rose past the horizon's edge, Sera sat in the dirt at the meeting point, her legs crossed, her skirt covering them and her halberd lodged into the ground next to her quite menacingly.

NAME: Sera AGE: 18 SIZE: 5' ABSTRACT: A tomboyish and adventurous orphan girl, who loves fighting and finding artifacts. DETAIL: History: Sera's history is fairly short, since not a lot happened since her parents died when she was 8. So she had to fend for herself starting that age. Out of necessity Sera learned how to fight and to loot nearby ruins and other islands for valuables to sell. Personality: For the most time, Sera is quite the tomboy, not seeming to be interested in "girly" things, whatever they actually are, and loves to challenge people, even if it is just verbally. She can get get quite vocal and cheeky at that, too. But in the end, if you get to know her well enough, she might warm up to you enough to be nice. EQUIPMENT: -Her glider -Her "Combat Lance", aka, her trusty wooden stick -Bag for looted goodies

Gaius Stronurr The Throne Room A collection of metallic clanks resounded as Gaius' armor breathed. The titanic knight knelt before his king with an open ear, half expecting an order to mobilize the guard. A preposterous thought, he was sure of it. An upset echoed past a duo of nearby pillars, catching his attention for a split second, but he remained resolute, grinning under his metal mask as he heard Sarah's voice denounce the sneaky intruders. She was as reliable as she was beautiful, as her husband Richard put it. Gaius was never one to disagree with praise. His thoughts drifted back towards the king as silence seeped back into the throne room, but what he heard next was far less climactic than what his mind had whipped up. Sera? Tivo? That quiet boy? He thought to himself, glancing at the slits in his helmet. Why am I tasked with the safety of children? Gaius shook the thought with a visible twist of his neck and nodded. Was that all? An order bordering on prophetic and unsound predictions? What did the king know? Gaius rose to his feet, turned away from his highness, and made his way out of the throne room with unsteady steps. His armor wobbled loudly, but it didn't help to distract from the eerie feeling that proceeded the King's announcement. Something was going to happen. The next day Outside of the Castle Gaius found himself on guard detail outside of the castle perimeter when the announcement was made. The meteor shower was splendid, or so he'd heard. Unfortunately for him, the big oaf had dozed off prior to the event, missing the spectacle by a mile. That's what he got for overworking himself like a mule. What would the guard do without him? Probably goof off and let the entirety of Heron fall into anarchy. Yea, that sounded just about right. Well, like it or not, they would have to learn to manage without him for a while. Gaius felt the need to join the search party himself, confident that without his experience and leadership, those who decided to venture forth would be utterly lost in the world beneath him. Honestly though, even the captain of the guard was sure to lose his bearings if he was thrown into the realm of the unknown. His decision was final, regardless. This star was important enough to his highness that it commanded a hefty reward with its retrieval. Yet another reason for Gaius to join the search. What if an unworthy citizen was to return with the star? He was certain that it would plunge the kingdom into darkness. Or something to that effect, anyways. Sera, Tivo and that strange man from a land far off would have to do without his protection as well. Surely the king wouldn't mind too much. His orders were vague, and without reason, after all. The Eastern Cliffs A chorus of rattling metal rang over the hill, drowning out the subtle breeze and migrant avian creatures rather abruptly. Hark! It was the all-too-familiar calling card of Heron's captain of the guard! In the past, many took heed and turned their necks towards the sound of his glistening jade-stained armor when he approached! It was hard not to when every subtle movement that the gargantuan man made offset every other sound in his immediate vicinity. What a ruckus. Gaius was surprised to see that somebody had arrived before him, so much so that he paused at the foot of the meeting spot with a loud 'Clang!' and stared at Sera from several yards away. "Oho! Your profound punctuality continues to beset my reputation, Sera!" Gaius chortled, creaking back into motion. He found his way across the clearing to the girl's side and grasped the edges of his armor's waistline. This was one of the children that the king had mentioned before this whole event had thrown his citizens into a state of wonder. Was it a coincidence? Bah! He had hoped to escape the king's vapid musings. He'd already written off the star-fall as a coincidence, irrelevant to the king's prophetic words, but for this girl to have volunteered the same as Gaius? "I'd not have pinned you as a girl for dangerous adventure!" Gaius heaved, unsure of where this day would take them.

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

You don't have to do this, Kel, A man said, his husky voice tinged with sorrow. "It's been pulling at me, Glenn, and I can't deny it this time," A young woman responded, her silvery tone just barely above a whisper. An old key on a ring dangled from one slender finger off Kelari's outstretched hand in front of Glenn. He rubbed his bald head and shuffled in place, dark eyes flicking aimlessly about their modest home. A crackling fire in the hearth filled in the silent minute as he thought it over. He pressed his lips together as he stared at the key, then suddenly let out a bitter laugh. "You're as stubborn as you're mother," He said, shaking his head. Kelari offered him a shrug and a short smile. Glenn hesitated for a second, then took the key and pocketed it. A smile masked his disappointment, but he gave her a nod of understanding. "I know I'll never be able to convince you otherwise." Another brief intermission of crackling flames, accompanied by Kelari rhythmically tapping her fingers on her thigh. "The parlor will be fine under your management," she assured him. "Hah, I was hoping I wouldn't have to open the shop in the mornings anymore but, ah it's been a good many years." The two laughed along with each other for a little while, but it the awkward melancholy from the thought of possibly never seeing each other again hung thickly over the both of them. "If you're really ready to leave this all behind," Glenn said, moving for a wooden lockbox settled against the wall, "You should... take this with you." Kelari curiously shifted closer on her tip toes to get a look over Glenn's shoulder. Bear of a man as Glenn was, Kelari was tall enough to see over him even still. Using the same key Kelari gave him, he opened the lockbox and took out an object wrapped in a dark cloth. Carefully unwrapping it, he revealed a dagger in a leather scabbard. He regarded the supposed heirloom with a ghost of a smile, running a couple thick fingers along the rune-covered scabbard. Kelari looked on with her mouth hanging slightly open and a breath caught in her throat. Those runes were familiar, somehow. Colors and shapes entered her mind, as if a dream long since gone tried to remind her from the oldest of memories, or jumbled words of a book she could barely recall reading. "It was her's," he explained, "I think if you're going to go out looking for her, you should take it with you." The dagger laid flat over both Glenn's palms, and he offered it to Kelari. After all this talk and posturing, Kelari actually hesitated. It became difficult to move as it settled in all at once that this may finally be when she finds what was missing in her life, but also that she might never return. She swallowed hard. The call to action was made by the king already, and there was never a better excuse to make for the surface than to find some mystical wish granting stone. With any luck, if she was anywhere near and still alive, Kelari would find her again. But, there were friends here. A comfortable home and living that could provide for the rest of her life. Yet somehow... it didn't satisfy her. Kelari's resolved hardened in her icy blue eyes, and she took the dagger without another moment's hesitation. She winced, clutching the scabbard in both hands, then stepped in and wrapped her arms tightly around her uncle's torso. Glenn lifted his arms in surprise at first, then enveloped his niece in a powerful embrace. He could just barely feel her shaking as she dug in her nails. Stroking her hair gently, he whispered, "If she's out there, I know you'll find her somehow. Come back to us, you hear?" Once dawn came, Kelari had enough time to settle her heart and mind to where she could confidently join the others at the meeting spot. Now all rested and sated, with a brass-colored cloak wrapped around her for warmth in the chilly morning air and a well-stocked backpack given by one of the villagers, she felt a little more ready to tackle the unknown. Some familiar faces came to see her off, giving their best wishes to Kelari before she left for the surface world. The head librarian said he would certainly miss Kelari, but if she comes back that she better be adding her own stories to his library. Readers would be dying to know all about the surface world. After seeing a few others for some extra odds and ends for the road, Kelari peeked over the crowds to find other faces she might've missed. Blin was going to be missed. She loved telling her outrageous stories to him, but maybe when she came back he'd be old enough to get that tattoo he pestered her about for so long. Eli... known accomplice to Blin, and makes just as good of company. Always nice when people appreciate the work of an artist. When the thought of Lee came around, Kelari absently clutched the necklace around her neck. A trillion cut aquamarine set with a pair of silver wings hanging on a leather cord. It was the best replication of that old necklace that Kelari could ever get, and Lee was the one to craft it for her. Kelari hopped up and looked around again. Maybe she could see a few more of her friends before leaving.

NAME: Lee Silvertongue ABSTRACT: A painfully creative young woman that has a tendency to get along better with inanimate objects and materials than people. APPEARANCE: Twenty-three years old, 5'8''. Pale with thick,short, wavy black hair that just touches her jawline. Dark eyes and a lean physique. Scars along her fingers and hands. DETAIL: History: Currently, she helps out at her Father's shop and maintains her own on the side. Lee works with precious stones and gems for the most part, polishing, cutting them and engraving them. She's very good with her hands, using her skills for a variety of jobs that range from decorating the hilts of weapons to cutting the smallest gems for jewelry. Her own shop has more to do with the art she creates with paints and her thread, trinkets she makes out of colored glass and sits out for people to see. She rarely goes outside but if she does she tends to either spend the time alone of with her two younger twin brothers and teaching them about their surroundings or collecting materials for her new project. Her father is almost always busy and her mother passed away of an illness shortly after the twins were born, so she takes on the maternal role in their home. Personality: Lee isn't against being with others or conversing with them but she is soft-spoken and worries too much about what people may think of her. She prefers to stay in her or her father's shop, singing to herself as she works through the day. While she's a hard worker she doesn't mind to throw the occasional afternoon away to just laze around under the warm sun. She's caring and fairly intelligent, but can be very protective when it comes to her family.

Sera let out a chortling chuckle. "Maybe you as a 'royal guard' should step up your game! Otherwise you might oversleep your king's assassination!", she exclaimed mockingly, but remained happily seated. Clearly Sera wasn't one for the respect of nobility, not out of spite for nobility, no, but more that she didn't see them as special, just ordinary humans and as such, she'd treat them as ordinary humans. And as such, she treated Gaius like she would anybody else she didn't particularly care about other than being a target for her enjoyment. However, there was somebody she did care, at least a little, about, who wandered past, apparently also taking part in this expedition, so Sera waved back at Lee just before she was distracted by another girl, Sera thought to know, but wasn't sure. She turned back to Gaius as he questioned her place in the expedition. "Har har! Alsmot starving to death does that to you. But I didn't take you for somebody who'd abandon their King to go on an adventure.", she giggled. "Or were you, by chance, sent as some sort of envoy?" The last statement quite audibly was uttered in spite, but if you knew Sera well enough, you'd know, she didn't really want to hurt Gaius saying such things, but she just couldn't help it, poking fun at people, insulting them. It gave her such a good feeling in her chest and she could still be nice to the people she actually liked.

NAME: Sera AGE: 18 SIZE: 5' ABSTRACT: A tomboyish and adventurous orphan girl, who loves fighting and finding artifacts. DETAIL: History: Sera's history is fairly short, since not a lot happened since her parents died when she was 8. So she had to fend for herself starting that age. Out of necessity Sera learned how to fight and to loot nearby ruins and other islands for valuables to sell. Personality: For the most time, Sera is quite the tomboy, not seeming to be interested in "girly" things, whatever they actually are, and loves to challenge people, even if it is just verbally. She can get get quite vocal and cheeky at that, too. But in the end, if you get to know her well enough, she might warm up to you enough to be nice. EQUIPMENT: -Her glider -Her "Combat Lance", aka, her trusty wooden stick -Bag for looted goodies

Blin "Brytag" Alborse Blin cowered in the library, the tremors finally passed and he rushed outside. The few people there were either peering over the edge of the island down below or gawking at the ruined bridge to the main island. Blin had no idea what had happened, he went to the bridge and found the sky-knights had already managed to clear the bridge before anybody was hurt. It turned out that two of guards had flown down when an unlucky man fell over the edge. blin looked down as they bought him back up, seeing a dim light that was quickly fading in the clouds below was all that remained of the sight that Blin missed. He just had to know what had happened, nothing like this ever occured in Heron. Blin returned into the library and collected the school's order of maps and scrolls, he quickly tied them to his glider and took off. All his thoughts were on the events, so most unlike him he dropped off the delivery with a quick bang on the school doors and flew of to the market and castle. The market district was abuzz with gossip and the king's messengers, proclaining the forthcoming quest. Blin got all the details quickly, and spent the remaining afterrnoon walking about in a daydream as himself as a member of royalty, and somewhere during this he managed to purchase three rolls of light blue thread in different shades. It didn't even register on his mind that he had bought them. That evening was maybe the worst and best in his life that Blin ever remembered. For maybe an hour at dinner, his mother dispaired of Blin taking control of life and being responsible. Blin was ashamed that he had totally forgotton to get his mother's lunch to her at the farm. His father was so infuriated that Elspath had to beg and share lunch from other farm hands. The meal ended up in silence as everyone steamed in their own thoughts. As the last morsel pased their lips, Blin blurted out "The king offered a reward for delivering the fallen to him. It's something I can do...so I'm going to do it." He stood up and cleared the dishes away. His parents sat there stunned. Elspath muttered "No" under her breath and Jared reached over to hold her hand while he whispered in her ear. Blin had tears running done his face as mind tried to sort out if leaving was for the best or trying to undo the mistakes he had done. When both his parents hugged him as he attempted to wash the dishes, he simply broke down and let his emotions run free. "Blin, you're always the biggest dreamer in this house," his father said gently, "so if you're absolutly sure of this. Go with our blessing. Everybody has to leave at some point and you actually lasted years longer than me before I left home." Now Blin was stunned, but he thought of the rewards that were offered, "Ti do this and one of us becomes an heir and the rest as royalty. Even with the lower reward we would all be set for life. I'm doing this and sticking to it till the far end." "Just remember to keep yourself safe, came back win or fail, this house is always open to you." Both his parents hugged him and only his mother had nothing to say as she quietly wept. Blin finally finished washing up, with help from his parents, and feeling emotionally exhaust he turned in. Day of the Quest Blin's eyes opened, the light outside was non exsistant when he looked through the window. He was well rested and so quickly got up to check the time, he slowly opened the door to peek at the small clock at the end of the hall. "A full three hours early," he went back inside shaling his head as he went to wash and get dressed. Elspeth, his mother, would still be asleep and Jared, his father would be as well. He crept out into the main living room, as quietly as possible, wincing at at every squeaky floorboard that sounded with each footfall. The table had a package on it. Blin lit a small candle and looked it over, a small neat label read "Come home safe, Love, Mum and Dad." He partly opened the plain wrapping, a blanket, a tarp, some dried food, something else under it. He closed it up and went back to his room and fetched a pouch. All his savings since he started his delivery service. He took out ten coins and left the rest in place of his gift. His family hardly ever wasted anything, and though he wanted to take the small label with him, he turned it over and wrote on the back "I will thank you, love you both, Blin." Blin loaded up his tools and package onto his glider, checked it one last time, before taking off in one of the most dangerous timeslots on Heron. The stars gave a little light and Blin was wide awake for once as he headed to Heron island for the meeting. He did the only thing he knew and just landed on a close island he knew well, just realising as he took off that the kings message had no meeting place arranged. He found a tree, it seemed familar to him and in moments he dreamed and dozed. Lord Brytag the Mighty flew across the night sky that was slowly being lit by an orange light, beneath him glowing in a dark orange in the strange light was the great sky-dragon Kalikorix. "It's nearly here, we must hurry Kal." The sky lit up as if it was in daylight as the pair dove down towards the surface far below. The night sky was quickly turning into shades of orange and red, a faint roaring was heard above and behind the pair. It sounds painful to their ears. Faster than ever the sky-dragon plummeted to the ground, only at the last possible moment did it open it's wings wide to slow the valiant pairs descent. As soon as Kalikorix touched the ground, Lord Brytag was off the beast and facing the clouds above. The roar became deafening and he shouted, "This is not going to work." the clouds above parted and a collossal meteor hurtled towards them both. Brytag was a warrior and he knew only strength of arms, perhaps it would be enough to stop this, he doubted every word he thought. "It was nice knowing you Kalkorix." He braced himself as if he had the might to catch it with both his hands and behind him, Kalikorix spread it's wings and breathed a fine multicoloured spray over his friend. The gigantic star struck the ground and burnt every living tree for ten miles around the impact, the shockwaves toppled trees for another forty miles. In the centre crater where the light was brightest. A young man awoke under the tree with daylight steaming onto his face, way past dawn and the weaatherman's balloon was flying in an unusal place. Blin stared at it blankly before using a phrase said by farmhands as he gathered his gear.

NAME: Kelari Halder ABSTRACT: Gregarious tattoo artist with a penchant for poetry and epics that moonlights as a library attendant. APPEARANCE: 6' feet tall and slender, blue tattoos of angular symbols and shapes on forehead and over and under her left eye. DETAILS: Strangers and townspeople know her as amiable and helpful, friends know her as clever and maybe a little crude. Loves to be in the company of others and enjoys meeting new people. Has been known to be quite talkative with customers at the tattoo parlor, if they'll let her.

The falling stars that evening were beautiful. Even Nikki was too busy watching the streaks of light that shot across the sky to cause trouble, though she’d made a quick flight right after they started to locate Blank. The young woman’s mouth hung open in amazement, reflected starlight shining in her eyes. Blank was similarly mesmerized, but the stars had failed to keep his attention, and instead he tried to suppress a smile as he watched the girl next to him. “I wonder if you can catch them,” she whispered, stretching up a hand as if to try. “Wouldn’t that be cool? A star to keep?” Her expression wasn’t quite the same as the raw excitement that indicated she was coming up with some wild new adventure, but this was a bit more subdued and awestruck. “A star… to keep…” Blank muttered to himself, raising his hand toward his head, but halfway there, he forced it down, letting the feeling slip away. Right now, it didn’t matter if he got his memories back, that could wait for tomorrow. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the moment. Suddenly a meteor far brighter than any of the others blazed overhead, and Nikki gasped. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “Look at that one!” Blank was already looking, and as he stared at the bright white light, that light burned through his eyes and into his mind, finishing the connection that had just started. In his mind’s eye, his memories, he felt the rain on his skin, hammering wherever his glider didn’t cover, and he barely saw the glider he was pursuing ahead of him. A gust of wind blew him up, and up, and farther up, and just before he passed from view of the other man, he saw a flash of light and then nothing. Snapping back to reality, Blank put both hands to the sides of his head as it throbbed with a pounding headache. Staggering to his feet, he tried to stumble inside, but only managed to trip himself on the doorstep. “Huh? Hey, you okay?” Nikki stood up as well, managing to tear her eyes from the falling stars when her friend lurched about. Based on the way he was holding his head, she figured it was some almost-memory, but he’d never gotten off-balance like that before. Blank spun around to face the stars again, almost falling over as he did. A moment later, he had oriented himself and was pointing at the horizon. “There,” he said, emphasizing the word by shaking his finger, “that’s the key. That’s where my memories are. I need to get there!” He turned again, making his way into the house more steadily, going for his glider. “Whoa, whoa!” Nikki trailed after him. “I’m all for chasing it down, but it’s dark. We can’t really fly at night, especially somewhere unfamiliar like down there. Plus if we don’t at least get some supplies and so on, we’ll be in trouble. Even I don’t go in completely unprepared, you know that.” Blank stopped, turning to look at Nikki. “I can think of a few times I’ve had to chase you down with a pack,” he said, obviously amused. “Well yes, though I never thought it’d be my turn to try to get you to think something through~” She was grinning fit to split her face. “We’ll go, absolutely. But this is going to be our biggest adventure ever. I mean...the surface! ...I really should have suggested going there before this. So we’ll get together what we need, and leave at first light.” Her eyes shone just as bright as they had in the light from the falling stars at the thought. Blank sighed, obviously defeated, and didn’t even begin to try talking her out of coming. There was nothing he could say that would stop her, and all he could do was try and keep her out of too much trouble. “Alright then, first light. Are you sure you’ll be awake?” “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she promised. The next morning, Blank rose early and gathered his gear. It was mostly standard supplies; food, water skins, clothes, rope and some firestarters, but his glider was anything but standard. It was more like a giant umbrella than the hangliders on the island, and he had to carry it out over his shoulder even folded up. He said his goodbyes to his surrogate parents and set off, knowing a good place near town to launch from. It took more time to get there carrying his gear, but it wasn't long after dawn that he made it to the cliff overlooking the town. He sat and watched as most of the townsfolk gathered around a smaller group, apparently those the king was sending to get the star for him. He felt a pang of guilt, but squashed it down. He needed his memories back, he knew there was something he needed to get done, and he wasn't going to let someone else stand in his way for some silly succession game.

NAME: Blank ABSTRACT: A mysterious teen who crashed on the Island. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: History: Two years ago, Blank crashed on the Island riding a strangely shaped hang glider, carrying only his bag of supplies and his sword. He was taken in by one of the families after admitting he had no memories, but since then only a vague sense of some purpose has returned to him. Personality: Blank is quiet and thoughtful, but kind hearted. He might be a warrior, since he has some skill with the sword, but he knows as little as a newborn, relying on instinct to interact with people. He tries to avoid contact with people he doesn't know, is almost adorably shy, and is always happy to let someone else take the lead. Equipment: Sword Bag containing dried food and water. Strange hang glider.

Gaius Stronurr The Meeting Point Gaius let out an embarrassed huff and nodded. A series of light clinks from his helmet tapping his breast plate's collar was the only retort he had for Sera's comments. His armor tended to defend him from the occasional tease more than he'd ever bothered to himself! Without it, he might have been completely silent in the face of mockery. Then again, what harm was a little jest at his expense, now and then? People like Sera were the only ones keeping him well aware of his faults! As Sera turned towards him, Gaius pointed his face-guard towards her and listened intently, careful not to take her words to heart. Abandon his king? Of course not! "I suppose you could call me that, but I'm an envoy of my own will! It's my sworn duty to uphold his highness' wishes. If I were not to see this mission through, it would be akin to abandoning the very principals that this kingdom was built on! I'm not keen on tossing aside my responsibilities as a knight," Gaius maintained, his voice practically seeping with an obnoxious amount of charisma. "The king would support my decision, and I'm confident that my guards will be fine without me- Perhaps better! Ha-ha!" Gaius had never been one to let the icy daggers of spite rend his armor and stab at his confidence. He was persistent! So persistent that it was rather unhealthy. His failures were the only wounds that stung, and to be reminded of his shortcomings so thoroughly was the ultimate torture. Gaius then turned his attention to Lee and Kelari, who'd arrived as he'd spoken with Sera, and waved his mighty shimmering arm with a smile that burned through his metal head-cover. "Ah, Lee's here too! And Kelari as well! And-" He paused and turned around to witness Blank ascending the hill. Him too? Gaius thought to himself, as he closed his waving hand into a loose fist and pulled it back to his waist. Shall I be met with a hat trick, Tivo?

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

Nikki opened her glider and leaped into the air. It wasn’t easy, flying at night, but it could be done if one was careful, familiar with the area, or foolish. Nikki was some of the second but mostly the latter, though she didn’t try any reckless stunts in the dark, aside from flying in the first place. She landed in a sprint in front of her house, nearly knocking her father over as she dashed inside. “Excited about the proclamation, I take it?” he called after her retreating back. The young woman stopped dead. “Proclamation?” she asked, puzzled. “Everyone’s talking about it.” Jasper ran his hand through his graying hair. “I can’t really imagine you as queen, though. Or an adviser. I’d leave the country.” He smiled at his daughter. While the girl far surpassed him in terms of energy and how far she’d take things, the foundation of her sense of humor she’d gotten from him. “Huh?” “You were planning on going after the star, weren’t you?” “I -- but -- how’d you know?” --- Not long after, Nikki was off again, heading back for Blank’s home. It took a lot of convincing to extract a promise that he’d go with the group since he didn’t like lots of people around, but she managed to wear him down. Certain that he’d keep his word, she took off, this time going to find Eli and Rahna. She didn’t see Blin, but if these two went, Blin was sure to be informed as well, and would probably join in too. They didn’t take nearly as much persuading as Blank. Eli was on board when she mentioned the reward, which was interesting. She’d thought he’d be intrigued more by the adventure. Whatever, they were coming. That was good enough for her. Filled with restless eagerness, the young woman was up several more hours preparing for the next day’s journey. But despite her late night, when her alarm woke her in the morning, she was wide-awake at once. “Today’s the day~” she whispered to herself as she scrambled to grab breakfast and get dressed. “The surface! This is going to be the biggest adventure of my life!” She kissed her dad farewell, trying not to squirm away when he hugged her longer than she would have liked. Nikki knew she’d likely be gone for a while, so it was only fair to have a proper goodbye. “I’ll come back. You can’t get rid of me~” she assured him, a broad grin on her face. “I know -- I’ve tried.” Jasper smiled at his daughter, but his eyes were serious. “You be careful down there. Nobody knows exactly what’s there, and it might be dangerous. Stay alert, try to think ahead, and for the love of all that’s holy, /listen/ if someone says not to do something.” “Yes, father, I will.” “You mean you’ll try.” The man sighed and shook his head. “Go on. I know you’re dying to set off.” “Love you, Dad. I’ll have so much to tell you when we come back, just you wait!” With that she grabbed her pack and glider, dashing off and leaping from the nearest launch point, her glider soaring upward into the faint light that preceded dawn. There were already a few people gathered below the Weatherman’s balloon, but Nikki was far too twitchy to be happy landing yet, and instead set to spiraling overhead as more of them arrived. She doubted all of them would be going, but she figured the tomboy ruins-crawler might be one of them. She’d be fun to have around. And...Gaius? No, surely not. Well, maybe, he had all sorts of stories after all. So he must have some interest, right? At least it’d be fun pranking him, but he was sure to try to make all sorts of rules, and that would be a bother. Eventually she caught sight of Blank’s distinctive glider, and swooped to join him. “Blank!” she called, landing not too far from him. “You’re here!” The young woman collapsed her glider and slid it through the straps of her backpack. She couldn’t carry much, but she had some supplies and her usual adventure kit of things that might come in handy. “I’m so excited~ I could barely sleep!” She danced around him, unable to stay still. “This is going to be /amazing/. The surface! I can’t /wait/ to get going~”

Name: Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt Abstract: friendly prankster with a clever mind and an appetite for adventure (Ignore the cat attributes, but that's basically Nikki, in her original form. Modifications have been made.) Appearance: Nikki is a nineteen-year-old of about average height, with a solid build that evidences the fact that she’s always on the go. She keeps her blond hair cut at her jawline, and her light brown eyes are lively. She prefers to wear flattering clothes, generally showing as much tanned skin as she can get away with. She loves black clothing, and it’s always something that lets her move freely and won’t get in the way when she’s up to her usual activities. She generally wears a pair of woven bracelets with amber and green stones, and shoes are usually a pair of solid-soled sandals with straps so she doesn’t lose them. Details: Nikki grew up with her father after her parents separated. She knows and loves her mother as well, but the woman’s job as a trader often took her far from home. Her father, Jasper, runs a general shop in town. Nikki herself has very little patience for work and doesn’t have an official job, instead doing odd jobs for various people. Instead of a real occupation, she prefers to get into adventures -- or trouble. She’s been filling her time with both since she was old enough to walk. She tried to pay attention to lessons and such, and did alright, but daydreaming or just wandering off wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’s a nice person, if perhaps overly exuberant, though her tendency to tease and play pranks can certainly seem mean. But she wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, and is more or less harmless. She’s quick and agile, with an ability to keep her feet under her even in difficult situations that would put many cats to shame. She knows how to use a knife, and can hit a target from a couple yards away, but that’s only in controlled circumstances. If it came to an actual fight, Nikki is far more likely to keep hold of her knife and use whatever is to hand, often in unusual ways. She’s pretty creative when it comes to innovative solutions to problems, though not all of them would be wise to attempt. The girl has a tendency not to think things through that ends her up in trouble as often as not. She actively courts disaster, be it trying crazy stunts or stealing a bun from a food stall for the thrill of getting chased. She revels in danger, carefully balancing on the line between wild and downright crazy. Telling her not to do something is one of the best ways to get her to try; if you don’t want her to eavesdrop, you’re better off discussing something boring for a bit instead of lowering your voice. She’s a superb flier, mostly because she has to be with all the stunts she tries, and enjoys flying second only to exploring. Well. Maybe third if you count pranks? Something like that. Her approach to life is one of humor and gleeful optimism, diving headlong into every opportunity that comes her way. When she decides to do something, she commits herself fully and holds nothing back. Life is something to be enjoyed, and she plans to do that to the utmost. Other: ~ Glider that’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s fast and very maneuverable. She just can’t carry too much of anything besides herself. She’s damaged it with stunts more times than can be remembered, but while battered it’s held up pretty well. Her father decided that if his daughter couldn’t be prevented from risking her life trying crazy tricks, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t the fault of her wings should she get hurt. ~Lockpicks, because you never know what interesting things might need opening. She totally doesn’t use them on things that actually belong to people though. Usually. Most of the time. Well, okay, she does, but she puts everything back where she’s found it, so it’s okay, right? ~Her knife is a handy tool she’s never without. She has a second one in case the first one gets broken or lost somehow. ~A bag of assorted tricks, usually including a bit of food, a grappling hook on a length of light but sturdy rope, a small metal mirror, some stick-on bandages, a few safety pins, heavy-duty tape, some string, a permanent marker, and various things to assist in pranking. Relationships: Gaius Stronurr - Nikki admires and respects Gaius, and she /loves/ his stories. She’s probably run afoul of him a few times, stealing things and making him chase her down to get them back. Respecting him, it seems, is not enough to make her listen to him. (Would he realize she views it as a game? I mean, if he stopped chasing, she’d stop doing it with the intention of him chasing her down. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t aim for other people to chase her, though.) Forrest Everfree - she’s a bit jealous of his freedom, and imagines life without parental figures telling you what to do as fun. Not that she wants to lose her parents, but the lack of a supervising authority appeals to her. As a child she found him fascinating, and often followed him around, eventually convincing him to teach her how to pickpocket and other minor thief skills. Eli Wyn - friend and frequent co-conspirator. Nikki is impressed by what he knows about gliders, and has actually learned a bit about them from him. His quest for excitement fits well with her own, and as wild as they are separately, get the two together and it’s even more intense. He’s the one that introduced her to Rahna and Blin/Brytag. Rahna Altema - Eli introduced the two, and they get on fairly well. Nikki enjoys racing with her and some of the others. She’s also learned that playing on Rahna’s curiosity is a great way to get her to go along with things she might not otherwise. Blin "Brytag" Alborse - He’s quiet and he always looks half-asleep, but he’s not bad. And he has some of the craziest dreams! Palling around with Eli and Rahna means she’s friends with him too. Blank - Nikki’s not sure if she likes bothering him or just plain /likes/ him, but she’s certainly fond of the mysterious teen. Since his arrival two years ago, she has found him an irresistible target for teasing. He’s so cute when he blushes~ Despite his good-natured complaining, the two are pretty tight now, though initially she had to construct circumstances that made adventures unavoidable when he balked at less forceful attempts to bring him along. She’s nothing if not persistent. Tivo Sol - Nikki's encountered him a couple times, both in town and out near ruins, but they're not close or anything. Kelari Halder - she's friendly, and she tells interesting tales. What's not to like? Nikki is at least on friendly terms with her, though she's probably tried to use Kelari's equipment at least once. Without permission. She got her tattoo at Kelari's parlor, a small pair of stylized wings on her shoulder blades. Hurt like anything, but the result was worth it~ Song: Dangerous, by Within Temptation

(Collab with ) Rahna grinned at Eli’s response to her suggestion, promptly following after him so that she wouldn’t be left behind. It was a race afterall! Unlike Eli, she quickly put her goggles on before jumping off the edge, her glider unfolding. She felt an updraft push her glider upward, giving her a little more altitude. She glanced downward to see a wave of starlings swirl and loop from below. It was an impressive sight, a sight which disappeared quickly into the trees of the island nearby. Eli smiled as he moved his glider out of the way. He did get a slight head start, so there was no surprise that he landed on the island a bit before Rahna. His knee did bump into the ground - his landing skills not being on par with his racing skills. “Slowpoke,” he stuck his tongue out, as he leaned onto his glider, watching as Rahna made her way towards him. He could modify the wings on her glider, only a bit - would definitely give her more control. Eli made a few mental notes to himself as he waited for her. Hopefully he wouldn’t forget them. He ought to get a notebook. She heard him call her a ‘slowpoke’ the moment she landed near him, letting her gliding skid across the ground like she was surfing on it. She didn’t even bother folding up her glider, carrying it over to him. “You got a head start!” She retorted, but of course, she wasn’t very angry to begin with. In the end, she just gave him a shrug and a chuckle. “So, what did you want to talk about?” “I…” Eli tried replying, but in all honesty, it was a hell of a question. What do people usually talk about? “How about you choose a topic?” If that was the best he got, no wonder he wasn’t carrying the title of the most charismatic talker in the world. Or Heron, at least. Rahna couldn’t help but laugh. “We could talk about how silly you are~” She replied in an amused, mocking tone. “Geez, you suggest we talk, but you don’t even know what to talk about~!” She continued, giggling away. “How about this, I’ll teach you about different plants while you fix up my glider! It’s boring, I know, but it’s probably less boring than what you’d come up with.” She said as she rummaged through her bag, pulling out a oddly thick notebook. She look at Eli with a cheeky smirk on her face. She knew he wasn’t going to enjoy this, but it was going to be amusing for her. The idea of him fixing the glider wouldn’t be bad in itself, but learning about plants? This was probably one of Rahna’s ways of teasing him. She couldn’t possibly be serious? It took him a few moments to notice it, but upon seeing the notebook, a dreadful expression replaced Eli’s usual grin. For a split second, he actually thought of modifying her glider to go even faster, as payback. But then again, this was his idea, so yeah, had he came up with a simple topic, all of this would’ve been a lot easier. Besides, she loved talking about plants. The signature grin came back as Eli decided to let it slide this time. “Hit me with your best plants!” He proclaimed while approaching her glider. Rahna half expected Eli to make a run for it, but she was glad that he didn’t. She took a seat in the patch of grass that was next to her, opening her notebook to a seemingly random page. “Let’s learn about a wonderful plant, named ‘Chusanor’!” she began. She started describing what it looks like in excruciating detail, talking about how to grow it and what it does when mixed with certain liquids or other plants. All the while, Eli could do little but sigh. “The 'Eesramire vine' needs constant sunlight and lots of wood to consume…” Rahna continued, as she had been for the past three hours or so. She wasn’t even close to finished. These notebooks have been organized from A to Z in plant species and everything about them, although most of her notebooks were still in her bookshelf at home. During these three hours, Eli had managed to fix up her glider, modify it, give it some more spin, doze off a bit, watch some sky, think about food, eat some food. And Rahna barely scraped the surface of her notebook. He was currently laying next to her on the grass, watching the sky and trying not to go all Blin on her. Cocking his head to the side, Eli tried to figure where the hell was she able to write down all that information. Witchcraft, surely. It was the most plausible explanation. What was that about watching the sky? He turned his head back, light of the day long since faded from its peak. Or was it long? Eli lost the track of time around the letter D. As he inhaled, taking in the breeze, he started drifting off again. A light dream, barely even recognizable. The sky… slowly becoming a smudgy canvas. Canvas filled with flashing lights. What were they called again… Lights? Flashing lights? Eli sprang up like a cat. “Flashing lights?! Hey Rahna, tell me - am I crazy?” He asked as he watched one light flash after the other. “If you grind it up--” Rahna stopped mid-sentence when Eli piped up for the first time in three hours. She glanced at his expression before looking at whatever he was looking at, which happen to be the sky. Flashing lights indeed. She slowly closed her book, placing it beside her. Her gaze staying on the light littered sky. Small streams stroked the darkened sky. “If you’re crazy, then I must be crazy too…” She replied in awe. It was such a beautiful sight. It was definitely one of those moments when Eli didn’t regret not going off on some adventure of his own. The day turned out to be quite memorable even without it. Simply stunning. And it didn’t seem as if it would end in a matter of seconds, for a moment it seemed as if it would never end. Not that Eli wished for it to end. “Two crazy people watching the sky doing crazy stuff,” Eli blurted out, before scratching his head. At what point did this turn into a scene right out of a romantic play? “Eli, you idiot,” he mumbled to himself. What Eli said didn’t really register in Rahna’s mind until a few moments later. She felt her face go a little red. Was this straight out of a romantic play or something? “Y-you really are an idiot.” She responded with a slight nervous laugh. She tried not to think about it any further than she already had and tried to focus on watching the sky.. Doing crazy stuff. She mind had already gone back to thinking about what Eli had suggested, but such thoughts were interrupted when a single, huge stream of light hit the mountains in the distance, followed by a thunderous rumble. She was speechless. Not that she had said much during the meteor display, but even more so now. It piqued her curiosity. She wanted to know what it looked like, what is was. “Eli.. I want to go see it.” She said quite plainly, her expression still quite stunned by the sudden event. “Em… Y-yeah, definitely,” Eli mumbled, not quite sure what had just happened. This was one of the most intriguing moments to ever happen in his life. To ever happen in Heron. “Like… wanna go… now? Or do you wanna wait ‘till the morning, tell our parents and stuff like that. Whatever you choose, I’m with you, y’know that.” He said, staring in the distance. This seemed like more than just a simple adventure. And his heart was racing - this was the real deal. “I.. think we should tell our parents first.. And y’know, be prepared to go down there. I also need to pack some fresh notebooks. I’m sure there’s a lot to learn down there.” She replied in a serious tone. This wasn’t something they should take lightly. She had no idea what was below Heron so she felt that she needed to prepare for it. A couple more moments had passed before Eli finally moved his gaze away from the mountains. “It’s settled down,” he beamed Rahna a smile before moving away towards his glider, stopping only to ruffle her hair a bit. “Why so serious? It’s going to be okay. No - it’s going to be awesome!” Considering Heron wasn’t that big, Eli wasn’t surprised that he caught onto the commotion coming from almost all sides. This falling light certainly caused quite a bit of ruckus. “Maybe we should check out what’s happening over there,” he pointed in the direction of all the noise. “Then head home for the night, whatcha say?” She couldn’t help but smile back at Eli when he ruffled her hair. “Y-yeah you’re right.” She replied in an uncharacteristically soft spoken voice. She took in a deep breath, regaining her usual composure. She had also heard all the commotion, thus she nodded at her friend. “Let’s go check out what’s going on~” She agreed as she packed up her encyclopedia and picked up her glider. -- The pair had moved closer to the source of all the noise, only to hear about the ‘Exploration party’ that was to form at dawn. Rahna smiled at Eli, “Well, looks like we’ll be meeting up with some other people too? I’ll see you tomorrow!” And with that she gave him a quick hug and sprinted off in the direction of her home. And just like that - she was gone. It seemed that Eli managed to cheer her up a bit from that serious persona she adapted every time something completely piqued her interest. He didn’t quite expect a hug, though - not at all. Eli felt his cheeks reddening a bit. “I really am an idiot,” he stated as he slapped his forehead. That evening, Rahna had rushed into the house to prepare all the things she'll need for her upcoming adventure. It'll probably take a long time to get to the mountain and back, but surely it wouldn't be too much of a problem? Probably. In the midst of frantically packing fresh notebooks, bottles and so on, her mother opened her room door with a knowing look on her face. "I knew this would happen the moment that thing landed." She said as she interrupted her daughter's packing, bringing her into a hug. "Mom, I--" Rahna began, but stopped mid sentence as her mother continued, "I know you're curious about the world, and I'm not going to stop you from going. But please, stay safe. Don't do anything too crazy, okay?" Her mother said in a soft voice, an slight expression of worry on her face. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll be fine. Besides, it's an opportunity to learn and write about the surface." Rahna replied with a smile on her face. "I knew you'd say something like that." -- The sun hadn't even begun to rise when Rahna was packing her backpack with the various items she'd need. On top of her already quite sizable sling bag, she had packed quite a lot of things. However, most of the contents in her sling sack was a mix of empty bottles and bottles filled with salves, medical equipment and a gratuitous amount of fresh notebooks, with plenty of charcoal to write with. Of course, she didn't need to bring her plant encyclopedias around, since they were so cumbersome and she had already memorized at least three quarters of the contents from A to Z. Remembering the more important things like what mixes well with what and what it does. When she had double and triple checked all of the contents of her packs, the sun had begun to rise. Rahna immediately thought she was going to be late, thus she rushed out of her room. "See ya Mom! I'll be back soon!" She shouted as she ran out the door, grabbing her glider as she left. When she flew in quickly, landing near the Weatherman's balloon, where some other's had gathered already. Being the Herbalist's daughter, she pretty much knew everyone here, except for a few faces, but they looked familiar anyway. It was interesting to see everyone gathering in one place for once. "Morning everyone! Fancy seeing you all here~" She called, greeting everyone cheerfully as always. She wouldn't be surprised to see Nikki here, nor Blank, even though they weren't here yet. Gaius was a surprise though. Lee and Kelari were also a slight surprise, but she didn't know them very well to begin with. The last person she spotted was Sera, who seemed to be a dwarf among the giants, so to speak. The contrast between her height and Gaius' was always amusing.

NAME: Rahna Altema Age: 18 Height: 5'7" ABSTRACT: A cheerful young girl with a natural curiosity APPEARANCE: DETAIL: Like many of the other citizens of Heron, Rahna is quite adept at using her glider to get from place to place. Often she’d play with the other kids her age, having glider races and doing tricks on them. Although she was never the winner of said races, she kept her spirits up by cheering for the people that did. She was never really one for competitions, she just wanted everyone to have fun. She enjoys learning about random things and about other people. Some say she’s nosy, others say she’s just naturally curious. The latter would be correct. However, she knows what she shouldn’t be too curious about based on how people talk about whatever it is. But what she truly excelled at learning about was Herbalism, much to the delight of her mother, who was also a Herbalist. More often than not, she was the first person people would approach about small injuries and minor ailments. Despite her cheerful nature, she can easily wind up in a situation where she doubts her abilities. Equipment: Hang-glider (Pretty basic, has bird wings painted on the wings of the glider.) Notebook and charcoal (Filled with random pieces of knowledge on various things. Rather unorganized (Unless it's her plant encyclopedias), yet detailed. Mostly herbalist notes.) Leather sling bag (containing various vials of salves and herbs... and the occasional fruit for a snack) Small harvesting knife

Thema watched as the boy tossed his belongings to the ground and made it apparent that he was going to stay a while. Before she could ask the boy's name, the boy rattled off a question. "That's pretty interesting, I gotta admit. Can you play it well?" Thema opened her mouth to speak, but again, she was interrupted by many questions more. "Oh, can you sing, too? Written any songs yet? Can I take a look at some you've written down? I mean, if you've written some down." The boy had been asking questions faster that Thema could even think of an answer. After a short period of silence, Thema answered each of the questions. "I can play it, though, I'm no virtuoso at anything, not by any means." She said. "And I can also sing, though, I'm no grand singer. And to what songs I wrote, I don't quite have my song notes with me. I guess I could play something, if you really want to hear it." Tivo gave a curt nod in response to each answer that Thema delivered, a simple grin plastered on his face signifying his content with the way this particular conversation was going. He was quite pleased that the bard was willing to share some of her own songs, and he gladly accepted her offer. "That sounds pretty nice, yeah. Go ahead! It's been a long time since I've heard from a genuinely amateur musician," he honestly opined, eyes gazing up at the woman with a tinge of eagerness behind his expression. Thema nodded after she heard what the boy had said. She sat on the ground in front of the man, pulling her lute off of her waist. She held the lute rather carefully as she hummed a quick tune while turning the pegs that held the strings tight to the wooden frame. Occasionally, she would pluck a string, giving either a note that sounded pleasant or a note that sounded rather dull. This went on for a rather short while, but once each string gave a pleasurable noise, she began strumming a simple, melancholic tune. She hummed along with the notes in order to get a feel of a song. Not before long, she began to sing a morose song. Time may cheat, but I know why Cause what I need, I can't buy But life goes on, and so do I. I'm trying to fly... And I don't even know why I still feel like a rat in a maze. Even though I stared at the sky I should have found a method to fly... The song sounded sorrowful and incomplete, however, it was sang quite well. Though, the song did feel quite empty, as if it was missing something. "Well, that's what I have so far. What do you think? Thema asked quickly, dismissing her own thoughts about the song. She had felt as though her song was empty. It sounded nice, that's for sure, but it didn't feel right. It wasn't what she herself had thought. It was just something that someone would sing from time to time. Lowering his stature further by leaning forwards some, Tivo listened intently to the song. While Thema strummed the sequence of strings on her lute and sung, he closed his eyes and nodded his head until she had finally finished. He had to admit to himself that she was quite decent -- not that he had any doubts about her ability, really. After letting out a content sigh, he opened his eyes once more. "That was nice. I don't really understand the words all that well, but, uhm . . . Good job!" Tivo's expression quickly acquired a grin. "The only thing I didn't like about it was just how short it was!" he added. Tivo was about to delve into a more in-depth conversation with Thema when a streaking, minuscule object ran past the peripheral of his vision, which immediately prompted him to divert his attention away from Thema and towards the particular area above him. However, after finding nothing in his short perusal of the sky which invoked great interest, he turned back towards Thema. He simply dismissed it as being an incredibly fast, white bird of some sort. "Sorry," he began. "Just thought I saw something weird. Anyway, like I said before, your songs are sort of short in length. Then again, I'm no musician, so I don't know too much. No need to take my advice. You've got talent, though!" Tivo suddenly became aware of how far forward he was leaning towards Thema and decided to readjust his posture by tilting back a bit, resting the palms of his hands onto his knees. Didn't want to invade her personal space or anything. Common courtesy. "So . . . Those lyrics. What do they mean? Is it a story of some sort? Does it have a message?" Thema was taken aback by his question. Did her words have a meaning? She never had thought too hard about it. She knew it wasn't a story, but what was it? It was certainly something she wrote, but for what reason? "I don't know," Thema said as she rose from her seat, "and I think that's what I'm trying to figure out." Thema looked towards the sky. Occasionally, a dull white streak ran across the sky, but was nigh impossible to see due to the day's light. It didn't look very nice, however, it was still a neat event to witness. "Anyways, I think it's time for me to get going." Thema said, returning her lute upon her hip. She then turned away from the boy and wandered forwards, with no real destination in mind. Thema Absher As Thema's wandering continued throughout the evening, an interesting word crossed around the town. The king was looking for volunteers to retrieve a fallen star. Thema, who had previously wandered across the entire city, had nowhere else as inspiration for whatever she wrote. None of what she wrote in the city had any meaning. Impulsively, she ran to her home, which had been a small house in the city. She packed some of her belongings in a thick leather bag that had been shaped into a cylinder. Odds and ends of various jewelries that she couldn't possibly leave behind, strings for her lute, some changes of clothes, and whatever dried foods she had at the time. She grabbed her glider, an old one that she had had since childhood. It had been destroyed and rebuilt dozens of times. It was a miracle that it still even worked. Despite this, it was still the choice glider for Thema. She left her house, and made her way towards the meeting spot that she had only assumed was the meeting spot. Such a guess would be fairly accurate, as for the event of leaving their home, the vast majority of the kingdom had been there to witness. She walked through and past the numerous crowds, finally reaching the large balloon and group of would-be adventurers. Most figures there, she recognized. Most, however, she did not know of, despite this passing recognition. There was a large and intimidating man in armour which instantaneously gained Thema's attention. However, upon glancing at everyone else, there was only one other that Thema really recognized. A rather sullen looking woman who Thema had met in a library a long time ago, and had infrequently met numerous times throughout the years. Thema knew this woman as Kelari. She had been the only person that she actually recognized out of everyone. She then began hearing everyone talk to each other. They must have already known each other for a while. Thema, not wanting to intrude on this, stood on the outskirts of the group. She did not speak, nor did she do anything to gain the attention of the rest. She just waited patiently for the next step.

NAME - Thema Absher ABSTRACT - A washed-up bard looking for inspiration. APPEARANCE Thema stands at 5'3". Her hair is almost always tied up. She has considerably darker skin compared to everyone else and tends to wear extremely light and loose clothing, even in the winter. She wears quite ornate jewelry, however, they are all heirlooms from her mother. DETAILS Personality: Thema is a musician and quite a good one at that. She tends to be really jokey and can't take a lot of stuff seriously. Her main goal in life is to find a song that truly can state how she feels about the world; that, however, is hard because while she can write lyrics, said lyrics don't quite have an emotional impact (to her, at least). She also sucks at gliding. Like, really hard. She's okay at gliding, but doesn't know how to land. Equipment: Thema's Glider - While it appears to be normal, the thing has been completely destroyed and rebuilt multiple times. As such, the frame breaks extremely easily, but it can be repaired within minutes. Thema's Lute - Plays nice sounds. Tunable. Thema plays it quite well. Ornate Jewelry - A heirloom from Thema's mother. Looks nice and is made from rather rare metals. It doesn't appear to have any immediate use.

Eli Wyn Night before The Dive That night was a hard one - too much energy, too much excitement to fall asleep. Too much unknowns. "It's going to be okay..." Words that Eli said to Rahna slightly prior to them parting ways echoed in his head. The question remained... was it really? It's not as if he was getting cold feet, but all of his stunts combined couldn't get close to the magnitude of this endeavor. This was the real deal. Full of elements and parameters he wasn't able to wrap his head around. Objectively, the worst that could've happened to Eli so far was to hurt himself in the process of being a jackass. But no one can tell what is the worst thing that could happen to him on the surface. To make the matter worse, it wasn't just him. Something could happen to Rahna as well. In a way, he felt obligated to go, whether he liked it or not. The fact that he actually wanted to go was a minor detail in the train of thought that was currently on the tracks of his mind. Eli felt that a part of Rahna's eagerness to go, besides being a curious girl, was because of his influence. He did get that before, people telling him to steer clear of their children, as they knew one was more probably going to end up in trouble if one was hanging out around Eli. Whether that was truly the case with Rahna or just a figment of Eli's imagination, was up for debate, but he still felt responsible. Thus, it was as if fate decided that Eli would go by default. "Huh," Eli proclaimed, as his gaze traced the night sky. He was sitting on the steps in front of his house, trying to clear his mind. Unsurprisingly, his sister was both the first one to find out about his intentions and the first one to object. She really did think that Eli was about to do it just for the kick. As did his parents, too. As did every single person that probably knew Eli. Knowing that, however, they also knew that there was no way to stop him from going. Not a sane way, anyways. For the most part, people were right, yes - the adventure would be exciting as hell. But there was more to it. The promised reward. His family may have been in an okay place for a while now, but that didn't mean that okay place would last. One day his sister will have a family of her own. If there was any luck, he would be an uncle. Eli's family would prosper from the reward, but that wasn't all. Should he really become royalty, he would be able to provide for a better life of his friends as well. What was the point of him reaching the sky if he wouldn't be able to pull other people along? "... and the kick is going to be the best one yet," he grinned before closing his eyes. Only for a second. Or two. Three. Morning before The Dive A light bump prompted Eli to open his eyes. The bright sky was shining above him, clouds cheerfully playing with the wind. ".. Wha?" he barely muttered out before someone pushed him off the steps and onto his feet. It took him a few more moments to realize what was happening, where he was and who he was, "Eli Wyn, check. My house, check." He turned around to face his house, meeting a dumbfounded expression on his sister's face. One would think that his family had gotten used to his antics by now. One would be wrong. The two stood there, neither one breaking the ice. He had said goodbye to his parents last night, but his sister refused to do it. She was definitely against it, but knew there was nothing to be done about it. After all, Eli was her little brother. She felt compelled to protect him. After a few moments, she sighed and pointed towards his glider, "You do realize you're going to be late?" Then it finally dawned on Eli, what he was supposed to do today. "Look, sis..." he begun, but she cut him off by approaching him and giving him a hug. Only did then Eli notice a backpack on her back. She took it off and handed it to him. "I packed you something to eat and drink. I knew you wouldn't pack yourself on time. Or at all." She rolled her eyes, before they settled on the backpack again. "There is one more thing in it, consider it an early birthday gift." Eli felt her eyes tearing up a bit and, to be completely honest, he was not far from it either. Opening the backpack, Eli notice a pair of aviator goggles. They didn't look brand new, but they were polished and seemed sturdy. Now he definitely wasn't far from tearing up. "You shouldn't have," Eli said, but she just smiled at him. It lasted for a mere moment, but it was more than enough to convince Eli that she was going to be alright with the fact that her little brother was growing up. "Go, before I change my mind!" The Meeting Point The glide towards the meeting point was one of the swiftest ever. Mostly due to the new goggles he had on his head, they helped Eli so much when getting to those crazy speeds his glider was capable off. Although, as a black bird crossed his path, a thought popped into his mind. If this was the swiftest glide ever - was it a possibility that the glide to the surface was going to be the worst one? He shook his head as he landed - prompting a group of people to move away and make room for him and his glider. He got there on time, but landed with the elegance of a rhino. "It's alright, I'm alright! No need to worry." he spoked as he folded his glider and looked around the crowd, hoping to spot Rahna. Hoping not to spot Nikki. He also didn't see Blin anywhere, which imediatelly stung him. Eli hoped that, since Blin didn't meet with them yesterday, he got around to seeing that event himself and decided to go too. That is, if he didn't sleep over the meteor shower. That would be vintage Blin, but would also majestically suck.

NAME: Eli Wyn - Age: 17 - Height: 5'8'' ABSTRACT: Adrenaline junkie that tries to make the best out of every situation - a ball of caffeine. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: - Personality: Legend goes that Eli fell on his head when he was a small boy, at least that's what his older sister tells people when she needs to explain why Eli did whatever stupid thing he did. It's not as if Eli is not a smart cookie - he may not be the smartest one in a jar, but he ain't stupid, just a little bit on the crazy side. He likes all things that bring that tingling gut feeling to the table. The more butterflies in his stomach he feels, the better. And since almost nothing of note happens in the village, he needs to make things happen. People call his stunts idiotic, crazy, suicidal... but mostly idiotic - but Eli does what he needs to do to bring at least some excitement into his life. Why would you simply go around a fence and enter through a gate if you can jump over it? Without using hands, of course. - History: Eli often helps his sister out with her job of being a pre-school teacher. Well, he is merely an errand boy, going to fetch whatever materials she needs and bringing them back to her. Often being a few hours late. It gives him something to do and it works as a good excuse for him not being in the house. And he gets to interact with people, which is always awesome in his book. Interestingly enough, it is his mother that allowed him to help his sister without him having to ask twice. As far as Eli knows, she feels nostalgic about the days when she was as carefree as him. EQUIPMENT: -a hand-glider | "expertly" modified by the "king of gliders", Eli, so it can go a faster, but it makes it that much harder to turn. Worth it. - a leather bag and a can of soda | Sky Kola - best refreshment on this side of the sky Blin "The Bro" Alborse - one of the closest friends Eli has. Although they are not overly similar personality wise, there are certain things that make them compatible. And man, he has a vivid imagination - making him instawesome. Rahna A.K.A The Bestie - he wouldn't trade her for all the excitement in the world. That tells you a lot. Forrest - once stole his sweet roll. Still owes him a sweet roll. Gaius A.K.A Don't Crash Into Him - otherwise he'll yell. Aurora - the girl Eli once mistakenly called his girlfriend. She hates his guts now. At least that's what she claims. Kelari - A master of the tattoo art, incredibly talented and artistic. Admires her work. Damn - he wants that tattoo. Lee - ?? Braum - ?? Thema - ?? Blank - "That handsome bastard that came out of nowhere." Tivo - ?? Sera - ?? Nikki - There is a fairly peculiar relationship with Nikki. Started on a really high note, with a small, five year old Eli idolizing Nikki. Then it took a sharp turn because Eli is, as everyone knows, the King of Stunts - considering their personalities, that was reason enough for a fairly hot rivalry to arose between the two. Legend goes they are still competing to this very day.

It wasn’t long after she joined Blank on the high bluff above the meeting point that Nikki spotted a distinctive glider. Eli, flubbing the landing as usual. “C’mon, we should get down there,” she told Blank, but the young man outright refused. The cliff was a perfectly good launching place, and it didn’t have all those people. She pouted but to no avail. “Well, fine, you stay up here if you really want to. I don’t want to miss it if there’s an announcement or something. But you better not go too far without me, got it?” With that, the excitable woman pulled out her glider and opened it, plunging off the edge of the bluff and sweeping downwards toward where the crowd waited. She aimed for Eli -- the younger boy would doubtless gravitate toward Blin and Rahna, if she’d missed their arrival. A grin spread across her face as she noted where her shadow lay -- approaching her friend, it trailed behind. Perfect if she wanted to give him a scare -- and why not? Nikki chuckled to herself and changed her angle, dropping down a few yards earlier than her initial intention. The rest of the distance she covered in a quiet dash, until she was /right/ behind Eli. “Yaaah!” With a shout, she jumped him, completely disregarding the backpack in the way. It’d mean finding purchase for an impromptu piggyback ride would be difficult, but knocking him over would work just as well.

Name: Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt Abstract: friendly prankster with a clever mind and an appetite for adventure (Ignore the cat attributes, but that's basically Nikki, in her original form. Modifications have been made.) Appearance: Nikki is a nineteen-year-old of about average height, with a solid build that evidences the fact that she’s always on the go. She keeps her blond hair cut at her jawline, and her light brown eyes are lively. She prefers to wear flattering clothes, generally showing as much tanned skin as she can get away with. She loves black clothing, and it’s always something that lets her move freely and won’t get in the way when she’s up to her usual activities. She generally wears a pair of woven bracelets with amber and green stones, and shoes are usually a pair of solid-soled sandals with straps so she doesn’t lose them. Details: Nikki grew up with her father after her parents separated. She knows and loves her mother as well, but the woman’s job as a trader often took her far from home. Her father, Jasper, runs a general shop in town. Nikki herself has very little patience for work and doesn’t have an official job, instead doing odd jobs for various people. Instead of a real occupation, she prefers to get into adventures -- or trouble. She’s been filling her time with both since she was old enough to walk. She tried to pay attention to lessons and such, and did alright, but daydreaming or just wandering off wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’s a nice person, if perhaps overly exuberant, though her tendency to tease and play pranks can certainly seem mean. But she wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, and is more or less harmless. She’s quick and agile, with an ability to keep her feet under her even in difficult situations that would put many cats to shame. She knows how to use a knife, and can hit a target from a couple yards away, but that’s only in controlled circumstances. If it came to an actual fight, Nikki is far more likely to keep hold of her knife and use whatever is to hand, often in unusual ways. She’s pretty creative when it comes to innovative solutions to problems, though not all of them would be wise to attempt. The girl has a tendency not to think things through that ends her up in trouble as often as not. She actively courts disaster, be it trying crazy stunts or stealing a bun from a food stall for the thrill of getting chased. She revels in danger, carefully balancing on the line between wild and downright crazy. Telling her not to do something is one of the best ways to get her to try; if you don’t want her to eavesdrop, you’re better off discussing something boring for a bit instead of lowering your voice. She’s a superb flier, mostly because she has to be with all the stunts she tries, and enjoys flying second only to exploring. Well. Maybe third if you count pranks? Something like that. Her approach to life is one of humor and gleeful optimism, diving headlong into every opportunity that comes her way. When she decides to do something, she commits herself fully and holds nothing back. Life is something to be enjoyed, and she plans to do that to the utmost. Other: ~ Glider that’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s fast and very maneuverable. She just can’t carry too much of anything besides herself. She’s damaged it with stunts more times than can be remembered, but while battered it’s held up pretty well. Her father decided that if his daughter couldn’t be prevented from risking her life trying crazy tricks, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t the fault of her wings should she get hurt. ~Lockpicks, because you never know what interesting things might need opening. She totally doesn’t use them on things that actually belong to people though. Usually. Most of the time. Well, okay, she does, but she puts everything back where she’s found it, so it’s okay, right? ~Her knife is a handy tool she’s never without. She has a second one in case the first one gets broken or lost somehow. ~A bag of assorted tricks, usually including a bit of food, a grappling hook on a length of light but sturdy rope, a small metal mirror, some stick-on bandages, a few safety pins, heavy-duty tape, some string, a permanent marker, and various things to assist in pranking. Relationships: Gaius Stronurr - Nikki admires and respects Gaius, and she /loves/ his stories. She’s probably run afoul of him a few times, stealing things and making him chase her down to get them back. Respecting him, it seems, is not enough to make her listen to him. (Would he realize she views it as a game? I mean, if he stopped chasing, she’d stop doing it with the intention of him chasing her down. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t aim for other people to chase her, though.) Forrest Everfree - she’s a bit jealous of his freedom, and imagines life without parental figures telling you what to do as fun. Not that she wants to lose her parents, but the lack of a supervising authority appeals to her. As a child she found him fascinating, and often followed him around, eventually convincing him to teach her how to pickpocket and other minor thief skills. Eli Wyn - friend and frequent co-conspirator. Nikki is impressed by what he knows about gliders, and has actually learned a bit about them from him. His quest for excitement fits well with her own, and as wild as they are separately, get the two together and it’s even more intense. He’s the one that introduced her to Rahna and Blin/Brytag. Rahna Altema - Eli introduced the two, and they get on fairly well. Nikki enjoys racing with her and some of the others. She’s also learned that playing on Rahna’s curiosity is a great way to get her to go along with things she might not otherwise. Blin "Brytag" Alborse - He’s quiet and he always looks half-asleep, but he’s not bad. And he has some of the craziest dreams! Palling around with Eli and Rahna means she’s friends with him too. Blank - Nikki’s not sure if she likes bothering him or just plain /likes/ him, but she’s certainly fond of the mysterious teen. Since his arrival two years ago, she has found him an irresistible target for teasing. He’s so cute when he blushes~ Despite his good-natured complaining, the two are pretty tight now, though initially she had to construct circumstances that made adventures unavoidable when he balked at less forceful attempts to bring him along. She’s nothing if not persistent. Tivo Sol - Nikki's encountered him a couple times, both in town and out near ruins, but they're not close or anything. Kelari Halder - she's friendly, and she tells interesting tales. What's not to like? Nikki is at least on friendly terms with her, though she's probably tried to use Kelari's equipment at least once. Without permission. She got her tattoo at Kelari's parlor, a small pair of stylized wings on her shoulder blades. Hurt like anything, but the result was worth it~ Song: Dangerous, by Within Temptation

Sera got up and leaned on her self-made halberd and then stuck out her tongue and made retching noises and motions. "Byah! You're disgustingly obnoxious with your insufferably chipper morals..." Exasperated Sera huffed and turned her back on Gaius and walked away. The short girl didn't get very far before greeting Rahna, who had just arrived as well. She knew that girl had the heart of an adventurer, but her knowledge of medicine, even if she was only a trainee, would certainly come in handy. She was in the process of waving her over when she spotted something happening. The girl that perpetually had annoyed her, to a degree, when she was scavenging for salvageable items in the ruins from time to time pounced on a boy she had seen around Rahna a lot. However, he didn't seem to be able to handle the impact and toppled over and both, boy and girl, fell into a heap of limbs. For a second, Sera managed to control her self, her hand pressed onto her mouth, but she just couldn't stop it for long. "Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha bwahahahhahah!" With a loud clang her halberd landed on the ground, because she just couldn't physically hold it anymore and Sera went down kneeling over in laughter. "Gahahha! You two look so stupid! Bwhaha!"

NAME: Sera AGE: 18 SIZE: 5' ABSTRACT: A tomboyish and adventurous orphan girl, who loves fighting and finding artifacts. DETAIL: History: Sera's history is fairly short, since not a lot happened since her parents died when she was 8. So she had to fend for herself starting that age. Out of necessity Sera learned how to fight and to loot nearby ruins and other islands for valuables to sell. Personality: For the most time, Sera is quite the tomboy, not seeming to be interested in "girly" things, whatever they actually are, and loves to challenge people, even if it is just verbally. She can get get quite vocal and cheeky at that, too. But in the end, if you get to know her well enough, she might warm up to you enough to be nice. EQUIPMENT: -Her glider -Her "Combat Lance", aka, her trusty wooden stick -Bag for looted goodies

Blin "Brytag" Alborse Blin shook the sleep out of his eyes with a quick shake of his head, it wouldn't do to be this late especially as he got up in the middle of night to be here. A quick look still showed him that gliders were arriving around the area where the balloon was floating. He checked his glider and gear, giving them the quick once over and took off to join the launch. He hoped it wasn't too late, almost wishing his glider was sleek and swift like Eli's, but then it wouldn't be able to carry the goods he would normally transport. Still out by a good five minutes, he spotted a crazy glider taking off from a buff and speedily heading straight into the gathering crowd. Just at the last second the glider folded, Blin hoped no-one was hurt, but it looked like that Nikki's glider. The girl could be so much more nicer if she wasn't always cusing trouble to those around her. He hoped the were no injures there, that would be a bad omen for the quest start. he took a slow descent, landed well clear of the people gathering, tethered his glider (since it didn't collapse) and made his way to see who else had gathered.

NAME: Kelari Halder ABSTRACT: Gregarious tattoo artist with a penchant for poetry and epics that moonlights as a library attendant. APPEARANCE: 6' feet tall and slender, blue tattoos of angular symbols and shapes on forehead and over and under her left eye. DETAILS: Strangers and townspeople know her as amiable and helpful, friends know her as clever and maybe a little crude. Loves to be in the company of others and enjoys meeting new people. Has been known to be quite talkative with customers at the tattoo parlor, if they'll let her.

((OOPS!!))

NAME: Eden Audrey ABSTRACT: Pampered rich girl APPEARANCE: ]i.imgur.com/FaiK7C3.jpg DETAIL: Coming from a rich family, she was always catered to as a child. Her mother told her she was better than everyone else so she has grown up believing just that. She is more or less a bully and often talks down to others around her. She is not smart in any sense as she has never paid attention in school because she has always known she could get by with her looks alone. She is outgoing and loud with her opinions even though she has no idea that no one ever listens.

Gaius Stronurr The Meeting Point Gaius shook his head with a faint smile. You can't win 'em all! Not immediately, anyways. Surprisingly, not everyone was a fan of Gaius' do-gooder attitude and charismatic demeanor. He thought it was preposterous! Why would anyone find him obnoxious? Well, aside from the ever present 'clanking' of his armor, and his deep, hearty voice- Hmm... Maybe he wasn't as charming as he thought. Moments after Sera told him off, two guards approached the meeting point and alerted Gaius to their arrival with a pair of loud shouts. "Sir Gaius! We've brought it!" They uttered, heaving what appeared to be an oversized glider. Except, it wasn't really a glider? No, it most certainly was, but not in one piece. They each carried a disjointed wing over their shoulders, with a strange pipe-like latch that bent front their undersides. This was it! A pair of wings stretching a full 3 meters when assembled! The ultimate heavy-duty flying appendage, aptly named the 'Gaius Glider' for its hardiness! What a stupid name. Gaius waved the two guards over with a creaking swing of his right arm. "Ah, there you are!" He called out. The both of them positioned themselves behind him and began the preparation to make their over-sized captain airborne. The glider he used was far too hefty for most to handle, given its sheer size. It couldn't even be carried around properly without splitting it in half. "Careful around my pits, fellas!" Gaius warned, raising his arms up. The soldiers folded the under-side bars out and attached them to Gaius' shoulder joints until they clicked into place, tightening them with several bolts, both at his shoulders, and where they met the wings themselves. "E-Easy!" When they were finished, Gaius was fully equipped with a massive set of iron-set wings that sprung from his soldiers, turning him into a variable Gaius plane. His personal glider was far from agile, and he fell much quicker than most others, but the fact they he was able to get off the ground at all whilst in his bulky set of armor was a feat in and of itself. "Thank you kindly, gentlemen! Now-" Gaius turned towards the edge of the cliffs and made his way over. "I don't suppose everyone is here yet?" He roared, turning back to the crowd behind him.

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

Lee was just waiting for Kelari to respond when she heard two men approach the group with a large metallic machine. Her brows lifted at the sight of such a large object. But then she realized it'd be carrying Gaius and it all made a little more sense. It reminded her that soon, they'd be heading off to the surface and she licked her lips nervously. Stepping away from Kelari with a soft smile, Lee padded toward the man, disregarding the loud shout. She didn't answer the question because she assumed he was competent enough to see who was here for himself. Rather, she approached him wanting to ask a question. Seeing as her own glider had been collecting dust in the back of her house in the shed for the past three years, she was hoping Gaius would provide knowledge of a different way of getting to the surface. "I'm sorry, Gaius? I don't have a glider and I was wondering if perhaps you could--"

NAME: Lee Silvertongue ABSTRACT: A painfully creative young woman that has a tendency to get along better with inanimate objects and materials than people. APPEARANCE: Twenty-three years old, 5'8''. Pale with thick,short, wavy black hair that just touches her jawline. Dark eyes and a lean physique. Scars along her fingers and hands. DETAIL: History: Currently, she helps out at her Father's shop and maintains her own on the side. Lee works with precious stones and gems for the most part, polishing, cutting them and engraving them. She's very good with her hands, using her skills for a variety of jobs that range from decorating the hilts of weapons to cutting the smallest gems for jewelry. Her own shop has more to do with the art she creates with paints and her thread, trinkets she makes out of colored glass and sits out for people to see. She rarely goes outside but if she does she tends to either spend the time alone of with her two younger twin brothers and teaching them about their surroundings or collecting materials for her new project. Her father is almost always busy and her mother passed away of an illness shortly after the twins were born, so she takes on the maternal role in their home. Personality: Lee isn't against being with others or conversing with them but she is soft-spoken and worries too much about what people may think of her. She prefers to stay in her or her father's shop, singing to herself as she works through the day. While she's a hard worker she doesn't mind to throw the occasional afternoon away to just laze around under the warm sun. She's caring and fairly intelligent, but can be very protective when it comes to her family.

Gaius Stronurr The Meeting Point "Give you a ride down? Of course, Lee!" He blurted abruptly, quickly positioning himself in front of her and bending forwards. Before she had a chance to react, he'd already grabbed hold of her calves, and yanked them up towards his waist. Hopefully she had the mind to latch on to his shoulder-guards, lest she fall backwards and crash head-first into the hard ground. "This sturdy contraption can surely handle a few extra pounds! Besides, I could use somebody to help me scout ahead of everyone else, I reckon its dangerous down their with only one set of eyes," He inferred, immediately turning towards the cliff-side once again. He smiled under his helmet, almost too excited to restrain himself from hopping ahead of everyone else without warning. "We're heading out first!" Gaius shouted his announcement with intense vigor, not even turning back to confirm whether or not anyone had heard him. He slowly backed away from the cliff-side, preparing himself for a running-start...

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

The minute Lee heard those first few words come from Gaius, she felt her breath hitch. About to politely decline Lee opened her mouth and tell Gaius that's not what she wanted, she got the breath knocked out of her as he just grabbed her. If her instincts hadn't kicked in, she would've bent backwards at this point and cracked the back of her skull on the hard ground. Possibly killing her. Lee's brain reeled, not understanding what was going on and what Gaius was doing, her nails scratching against armor and her fingers barely finding purchase at the man's shoulders. There was a thin sheet of sweat already forming on her brow and along her neck, her heart beating loudly in her chest as she tried to understand what was going on. Her voice seemed trapped in her throat when she made an attempt to call out to Gaius. To anyone for that matter. Her anxiety only increased as she realized that the man was going to jump off the edge. Jump off the edge with her in-tow.

NAME: Lee Silvertongue ABSTRACT: A painfully creative young woman that has a tendency to get along better with inanimate objects and materials than people. APPEARANCE: Twenty-three years old, 5'8''. Pale with thick,short, wavy black hair that just touches her jawline. Dark eyes and a lean physique. Scars along her fingers and hands. DETAIL: History: Currently, she helps out at her Father's shop and maintains her own on the side. Lee works with precious stones and gems for the most part, polishing, cutting them and engraving them. She's very good with her hands, using her skills for a variety of jobs that range from decorating the hilts of weapons to cutting the smallest gems for jewelry. Her own shop has more to do with the art she creates with paints and her thread, trinkets she makes out of colored glass and sits out for people to see. She rarely goes outside but if she does she tends to either spend the time alone of with her two younger twin brothers and teaching them about their surroundings or collecting materials for her new project. Her father is almost always busy and her mother passed away of an illness shortly after the twins were born, so she takes on the maternal role in their home. Personality: Lee isn't against being with others or conversing with them but she is soft-spoken and worries too much about what people may think of her. She prefers to stay in her or her father's shop, singing to herself as she works through the day. While she's a hard worker she doesn't mind to throw the occasional afternoon away to just laze around under the warm sun. She's caring and fairly intelligent, but can be very protective when it comes to her family.

Blin "Brytag" Alborse "No, no,no,no...." Blin was at first amazed at the guards bringing the individual wings into the crowd and then shocked when he heard what he thought was a battlecry. "We're heading out first!" All thoughts of "Naughty" Nikki's crazy dive left him as he rushed back to his tethered gilder, "Why did I have to doze off....again. Come on, don't be last to leave." Blin tore at the ropes, freeing his glider and ran to the cliff edge before he could change his mind. He forced the glider into a dive, faster than he was used too, and surprisingly caught up the monster of beast that left first. He wasn't the last to leave, but he actually managed to pass someone before he spotted Lord Gaius and then his mouth dropped open. The blood drained from his face as he saw Lee holding onto to Gaius, he could have carried her, he could have got her a glider, he could have done something. He pulled up, straining the glider and slowing his descent. He heard something snap behind him, the glider slowed but he frantically started to look about it to see what had happened.

NAME: Kelari Halder ABSTRACT: Gregarious tattoo artist with a penchant for poetry and epics that moonlights as a library attendant. APPEARANCE: 6' feet tall and slender, blue tattoos of angular symbols and shapes on forehead and over and under her left eye. DETAILS: Strangers and townspeople know her as amiable and helpful, friends know her as clever and maybe a little crude. Loves to be in the company of others and enjoys meeting new people. Has been known to be quite talkative with customers at the tattoo parlor, if they'll let her.

Rahna Altema Everything was happening so quickly, but it was all quite amusing. Rahna really didn't know what to react to first. Perhaps the bellowing of Gaius who boisterously stated that he was heading out first or maybe the fact that he turned into a human glider. 'The nerve! How dare you he start having fun before everyone else!' is what Rahna would've thought if she was a selfish person. Fortunately, she wasn't. 'As long as they're having fun, right?' was often the thought that crossed her mind. She didn't like holding people back, unless it was Eli, to make sure he didn't get ahead of himself. Speaking of which, she noticed that he pretty much crash landed near the group and was quickly assaulted by Nikki who came leaping out of nowhere. Rahna watched as Nikki pounced on Eli, grounding him.. literally. She couldn't help but smile, especially when Sera was laughing her head off at the sight of it. Rahna giggled as she settled some of her belongings next to her folded glider. After making a quick jog over to the tangled pair, she gave Nikki a knowing look and a smirk. "As expected of you Nikki~ Making a ruckus at any hour of the day." The young girl slowly helped the two get back on their feet, helping dust the dirt off their clothes. Her eyes made a quick scan for any injuries on either of them, "I'd rather we didn't get injured before the adventure even starts~" She stated in a lighthearted tone. In the corner of her eye, she spotted another figure jumping off the edge of the cliff. It was Blin. "Soo.. Blin just left us behind." She added, pointing over to the spot where Blin took off.

NAME: Rahna Altema Age: 18 Height: 5'7" ABSTRACT: A cheerful young girl with a natural curiosity APPEARANCE: DETAIL: Like many of the other citizens of Heron, Rahna is quite adept at using her glider to get from place to place. Often she’d play with the other kids her age, having glider races and doing tricks on them. Although she was never the winner of said races, she kept her spirits up by cheering for the people that did. She was never really one for competitions, she just wanted everyone to have fun. She enjoys learning about random things and about other people. Some say she’s nosy, others say she’s just naturally curious. The latter would be correct. However, she knows what she shouldn’t be too curious about based on how people talk about whatever it is. But what she truly excelled at learning about was Herbalism, much to the delight of her mother, who was also a Herbalist. More often than not, she was the first person people would approach about small injuries and minor ailments. Despite her cheerful nature, she can easily wind up in a situation where she doubts her abilities. Equipment: Hang-glider (Pretty basic, has bird wings painted on the wings of the glider.) Notebook and charcoal (Filled with random pieces of knowledge on various things. Rather unorganized (Unless it's her plant encyclopedias), yet detailed. Mostly herbalist notes.) Leather sling bag (containing various vials of salves and herbs... and the occasional fruit for a snack) Small harvesting knife

Blank saw things starting to move at the Launching Point and got to his feet. He wondered briefly if he should have borrowed a normal glider from somebody as he stepped up to the edge of his own spot, but this was the way he had arrived. The bizarre glider had to have something to do with his past, and somebody on the surface might recognize it. Blank didn't hesitate after that. As he had done so many times before, chasing after Nikki, he stood on the edge of the cliff with his glider in one hand, looking for all the world like an oversized collapsed umbrella, and faced back toward the castle. He took a breath, closed his eyes, and tilted backwards unafraid, kicking at the cliff face to distance himself from the unforgiving stone. He plummeted, like he always did, and as he fell he slipped his foot into the stirrup at the end of the glider, a small metal divot in his boot locking it in place. Pulling at the top until it slid out to twice his height. Finally ready, he wrapped his arm around the center pole and released the canvas, the whole thing springing open and bringing him to an almost dead stop in the air, swinging forward faster than most normal gliders could go as his downward momentum shifted to horizontal. He pushed forward on the bar, levering it between his foot and arm to keep it from penduluming backwards. He was much lower than everybody else now, but he knew at least Nikki would catch up to him, just to show off if nothing else. As he glanced backward and up, he could just barely see the island hiding behind his canvas awning, and said a last silent farewell. This could be the last time he ever saw his home.

NAME: Blank ABSTRACT: A mysterious teen who crashed on the Island. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: History: Two years ago, Blank crashed on the Island riding a strangely shaped hang glider, carrying only his bag of supplies and his sword. He was taken in by one of the families after admitting he had no memories, but since then only a vague sense of some purpose has returned to him. Personality: Blank is quiet and thoughtful, but kind hearted. He might be a warrior, since he has some skill with the sword, but he knows as little as a newborn, relying on instinct to interact with people. He tries to avoid contact with people he doesn't know, is almost adorably shy, and is always happy to let someone else take the lead. Equipment: Sword Bag containing dried food and water. Strange hang glider.

The eager young lady grinned at Sera, adding her own giggle to the tomboy’s. When the other girl collapsed with mirth, it only made Nikki laugh harder. She’d mostly subsided by the time Rahna came to help Eli up, untangling herself and rolling to her feet. Her head jerked up at familiar shout, and she caught sight of first Blin, then Blank overhead head out into the sky. “Time to go~” she caroled. “C’mon Eli, Rahna -- you too, ruins-crow -- last one past the clouds is a muddy duck~!” Without waiting for a reply she scooped up her folded glider and ran full tilt for the edge of the island, diving neatly over the side. The wind rushed past her ears as she picked up speed, free hand dragging her goggles into place. Gaius and his massive glider moved at a snail’s pace ahead of her, then above, and Blank quite a bit below. The reckless woman pulled her arms in to streamline herself. The most daring of her tricks brought wild intensity, but freefall was a simpler and far more relaxed joy. She could see the odd shape of Blank’s glider opening below her as she drew closer, and as he let the the canvas snap into place she dropped passed him, laughing gleefully. Spreading her arms and angling them to roll herself over, she waved cheekily to the young man now above her. He shouted something scoldy at her, but though she heard she didn’t appear to listen, her eyes shining with unrestrained glee. And then she was flipping back over as she plummeted downward, adjusting angle and drag. Blank hollered again, and she didn’t bother to reply. She’d heard the first time, and of course she wasn’t going to dive all the way to the surface. He could be so silly at times! But carelessly opening even the strongest glider at speed was more than reckless, it was downright suicidal. She’d done this before, and knew what she was doing. First a little, then a bit more, Nikki kept a tight grip on the handstraps as she started to spread the wings and check her speed. When she’d brought it to just a fast dive, she let the wings snap open the rest of the way, and tilted the nose back hard. She leveled out with a joyous whoop, then started climbing so she could circle back again to the others.

Name: Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt Abstract: friendly prankster with a clever mind and an appetite for adventure (Ignore the cat attributes, but that's basically Nikki, in her original form. Modifications have been made.) Appearance: Nikki is a nineteen-year-old of about average height, with a solid build that evidences the fact that she’s always on the go. She keeps her blond hair cut at her jawline, and her light brown eyes are lively. She prefers to wear flattering clothes, generally showing as much tanned skin as she can get away with. She loves black clothing, and it’s always something that lets her move freely and won’t get in the way when she’s up to her usual activities. She generally wears a pair of woven bracelets with amber and green stones, and shoes are usually a pair of solid-soled sandals with straps so she doesn’t lose them. Details: Nikki grew up with her father after her parents separated. She knows and loves her mother as well, but the woman’s job as a trader often took her far from home. Her father, Jasper, runs a general shop in town. Nikki herself has very little patience for work and doesn’t have an official job, instead doing odd jobs for various people. Instead of a real occupation, she prefers to get into adventures -- or trouble. She’s been filling her time with both since she was old enough to walk. She tried to pay attention to lessons and such, and did alright, but daydreaming or just wandering off wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’s a nice person, if perhaps overly exuberant, though her tendency to tease and play pranks can certainly seem mean. But she wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, and is more or less harmless. She’s quick and agile, with an ability to keep her feet under her even in difficult situations that would put many cats to shame. She knows how to use a knife, and can hit a target from a couple yards away, but that’s only in controlled circumstances. If it came to an actual fight, Nikki is far more likely to keep hold of her knife and use whatever is to hand, often in unusual ways. She’s pretty creative when it comes to innovative solutions to problems, though not all of them would be wise to attempt. The girl has a tendency not to think things through that ends her up in trouble as often as not. She actively courts disaster, be it trying crazy stunts or stealing a bun from a food stall for the thrill of getting chased. She revels in danger, carefully balancing on the line between wild and downright crazy. Telling her not to do something is one of the best ways to get her to try; if you don’t want her to eavesdrop, you’re better off discussing something boring for a bit instead of lowering your voice. She’s a superb flier, mostly because she has to be with all the stunts she tries, and enjoys flying second only to exploring. Well. Maybe third if you count pranks? Something like that. Her approach to life is one of humor and gleeful optimism, diving headlong into every opportunity that comes her way. When she decides to do something, she commits herself fully and holds nothing back. Life is something to be enjoyed, and she plans to do that to the utmost. Other: ~ Glider that’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s fast and very maneuverable. She just can’t carry too much of anything besides herself. She’s damaged it with stunts more times than can be remembered, but while battered it’s held up pretty well. Her father decided that if his daughter couldn’t be prevented from risking her life trying crazy tricks, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t the fault of her wings should she get hurt. ~Lockpicks, because you never know what interesting things might need opening. She totally doesn’t use them on things that actually belong to people though. Usually. Most of the time. Well, okay, she does, but she puts everything back where she’s found it, so it’s okay, right? ~Her knife is a handy tool she’s never without. She has a second one in case the first one gets broken or lost somehow. ~A bag of assorted tricks, usually including a bit of food, a grappling hook on a length of light but sturdy rope, a small metal mirror, some stick-on bandages, a few safety pins, heavy-duty tape, some string, a permanent marker, and various things to assist in pranking. Relationships: Gaius Stronurr - Nikki admires and respects Gaius, and she /loves/ his stories. She’s probably run afoul of him a few times, stealing things and making him chase her down to get them back. Respecting him, it seems, is not enough to make her listen to him. (Would he realize she views it as a game? I mean, if he stopped chasing, she’d stop doing it with the intention of him chasing her down. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t aim for other people to chase her, though.) Forrest Everfree - she’s a bit jealous of his freedom, and imagines life without parental figures telling you what to do as fun. Not that she wants to lose her parents, but the lack of a supervising authority appeals to her. As a child she found him fascinating, and often followed him around, eventually convincing him to teach her how to pickpocket and other minor thief skills. Eli Wyn - friend and frequent co-conspirator. Nikki is impressed by what he knows about gliders, and has actually learned a bit about them from him. His quest for excitement fits well with her own, and as wild as they are separately, get the two together and it’s even more intense. He’s the one that introduced her to Rahna and Blin/Brytag. Rahna Altema - Eli introduced the two, and they get on fairly well. Nikki enjoys racing with her and some of the others. She’s also learned that playing on Rahna’s curiosity is a great way to get her to go along with things she might not otherwise. Blin "Brytag" Alborse - He’s quiet and he always looks half-asleep, but he’s not bad. And he has some of the craziest dreams! Palling around with Eli and Rahna means she’s friends with him too. Blank - Nikki’s not sure if she likes bothering him or just plain /likes/ him, but she’s certainly fond of the mysterious teen. Since his arrival two years ago, she has found him an irresistible target for teasing. He’s so cute when he blushes~ Despite his good-natured complaining, the two are pretty tight now, though initially she had to construct circumstances that made adventures unavoidable when he balked at less forceful attempts to bring him along. She’s nothing if not persistent. Tivo Sol - Nikki's encountered him a couple times, both in town and out near ruins, but they're not close or anything. Kelari Halder - she's friendly, and she tells interesting tales. What's not to like? Nikki is at least on friendly terms with her, though she's probably tried to use Kelari's equipment at least once. Without permission. She got her tattoo at Kelari's parlor, a small pair of stylized wings on her shoulder blades. Hurt like anything, but the result was worth it~ Song: Dangerous, by Within Temptation

Eli Wyn "You crazy woman!" Eli yelled after Nikki as she rushed towards the clouds. Without even saying sorry or something to that degree. He brushed the dirt from his clothes, before clearing his throat and seemingly getting his cool back together. For the time being. He ain't going to forget this. "Eh.. thanks for helping me out, Rahna. That girl is nothing but trouble, I tell you," Eli grinned as he realized exactly what he was saying, "Coming from someone like me, that's telling you a lot." He let out a small laugh before his face stiffened as his eyes traced Rahna's finger. Then it turned to a confused expression, before an even wider grin appeared on his face. "Blin? My bro?! You sure about that, Rahn?!" He was practically jumping from excitement. Of course Blin wouldn't pass out on this opportunity. Eli had taught him well. The crowd slowly became nothing more than a few people standing on the cliff. He knew couple of those that had remained, not yet plunging themselves into the abyss below. This was it... the moment of truth. If there was any doubt left in Eli's mind, all of it faded out in the matter of seconds. People that he knew. Nikki, Blin, probably Blank too - amongst others, all disappeared from the sight. What was the point in staying back now? "Hey Rahna," Eli said as he put his hand on her shoulder, "Be careful, alright? No injuries this early on." The more he waited, the farther other people had moved towards the surface. And that was fine, with Eli's glider and technique, he'd have no real trouble catching up to some of them. Maybe even catching up to Blin, he didn't have the fastest of gliders. Stable sure, but far from a racing type. "So... yeah, wanna go? Not getting cold feet, are you?" Eli joked around although on the inside, he wasn't as calm as it had appeared. His entire body was tense. Was it fear? Possibly. Excitement? "Hell yeah."

NAME: Eli Wyn - Age: 17 - Height: 5'8'' ABSTRACT: Adrenaline junkie that tries to make the best out of every situation - a ball of caffeine. APPEARANCE: DETAIL: - Personality: Legend goes that Eli fell on his head when he was a small boy, at least that's what his older sister tells people when she needs to explain why Eli did whatever stupid thing he did. It's not as if Eli is not a smart cookie - he may not be the smartest one in a jar, but he ain't stupid, just a little bit on the crazy side. He likes all things that bring that tingling gut feeling to the table. The more butterflies in his stomach he feels, the better. And since almost nothing of note happens in the village, he needs to make things happen. People call his stunts idiotic, crazy, suicidal... but mostly idiotic - but Eli does what he needs to do to bring at least some excitement into his life. Why would you simply go around a fence and enter through a gate if you can jump over it? Without using hands, of course. - History: Eli often helps his sister out with her job of being a pre-school teacher. Well, he is merely an errand boy, going to fetch whatever materials she needs and bringing them back to her. Often being a few hours late. It gives him something to do and it works as a good excuse for him not being in the house. And he gets to interact with people, which is always awesome in his book. Interestingly enough, it is his mother that allowed him to help his sister without him having to ask twice. As far as Eli knows, she feels nostalgic about the days when she was as carefree as him. EQUIPMENT: -a hand-glider | "expertly" modified by the "king of gliders", Eli, so it can go a faster, but it makes it that much harder to turn. Worth it. - a leather bag and a can of soda | Sky Kola - best refreshment on this side of the sky Blin "The Bro" Alborse - one of the closest friends Eli has. Although they are not overly similar personality wise, there are certain things that make them compatible. And man, he has a vivid imagination - making him instawesome. Rahna A.K.A The Bestie - he wouldn't trade her for all the excitement in the world. That tells you a lot. Forrest - once stole his sweet roll. Still owes him a sweet roll. Gaius A.K.A Don't Crash Into Him - otherwise he'll yell. Aurora - the girl Eli once mistakenly called his girlfriend. She hates his guts now. At least that's what she claims. Kelari - A master of the tattoo art, incredibly talented and artistic. Admires her work. Damn - he wants that tattoo. Lee - ?? Braum - ?? Thema - ?? Blank - "That handsome bastard that came out of nowhere." Tivo - ?? Sera - ?? Nikki - There is a fairly peculiar relationship with Nikki. Started on a really high note, with a small, five year old Eli idolizing Nikki. Then it took a sharp turn because Eli is, as everyone knows, the King of Stunts - considering their personalities, that was reason enough for a fairly hot rivalry to arose between the two. Legend goes they are still competing to this very day.

Gaius Stronurr The Meeting Point Gaius left behind a series of iron footprints as he sprinted across the cliff's edge to the best of his ability, picking up considerable speed as he kicked up dirt with his jade-set boots. "And we're off," He said softly to himself with a huff, kicking off of the rocky ledge. His final step sent stones crumbling into the abyss below. For a moment, it looked as if the massive glider wasn't going to hold together, but several meters away from the cliff's edge, Gaius and Lee were gliding without much trouble through the vast expanse of clear sky. "Hold on tight," He shouted past the noise of his armor clattering against the wind, "It's quite the drop!" That it was. There was no chance of survival if somebody fell from a height like this. Twang! The noise was accompanied by a sudden weightlessness in his right shoulder. Gaius looked up and quickly rose his right hand to grab the bar that snapped from its joint on his shoulder plate, barely managing to secure his grip before the glider lose balance. "Whoa-Whoa!" Gaius cried out in a panic, struggling to keep his wingspan level as he trailed behind the other gliders, who'd passed him up by now with ease. "Shoot- No! Shit!!" Gaius and Lee began losing altitude, but were able to remain airborne. But how long would it be before the second latch snapped? Perhaps this contraption wasn't meant for two people after all..

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

It felt like someone had reached deep into Lee's throat and dried off every particle of her lungs. There was hardly any air sliding in and out of the organs, Lee's eyes wide as her brain tried to catch up and register what was going on. Alas, nothing was getting in. She just couldn't comprehend it. The pounding in her ears seemed to drown everything out and things remained like this until something snapped. At that point, her body found it in itself to produce a loud shriek akin to the sound an animal would make when in pain. Panicking, Lee unintelligently tried to scramble off of whatever was holding her, fingers sliding off of the armor and causing her to nearly fall. What was going on? Her body and brain seemed to be on completely different pages, her legs pressed so tightly against Gaius she could feel the painful pressure of the armor against the bone of her calves. Her mind however was reeling. Millions of anxiety-riddled questions flashed before her and all of a sudden she could smell marigold and ginseng. Images flashed into her brain and something tried to push them away but they grew strong. When Lee made the mistake of looking down however, was when things really started to go wrong.

NAME: Lee Silvertongue ABSTRACT: A painfully creative young woman that has a tendency to get along better with inanimate objects and materials than people. APPEARANCE: Twenty-three years old, 5'8''. Pale with thick,short, wavy black hair that just touches her jawline. Dark eyes and a lean physique. Scars along her fingers and hands. DETAIL: History: Currently, she helps out at her Father's shop and maintains her own on the side. Lee works with precious stones and gems for the most part, polishing, cutting them and engraving them. She's very good with her hands, using her skills for a variety of jobs that range from decorating the hilts of weapons to cutting the smallest gems for jewelry. Her own shop has more to do with the art she creates with paints and her thread, trinkets she makes out of colored glass and sits out for people to see. She rarely goes outside but if she does she tends to either spend the time alone of with her two younger twin brothers and teaching them about their surroundings or collecting materials for her new project. Her father is almost always busy and her mother passed away of an illness shortly after the twins were born, so she takes on the maternal role in their home. Personality: Lee isn't against being with others or conversing with them but she is soft-spoken and worries too much about what people may think of her. She prefers to stay in her or her father's shop, singing to herself as she works through the day. While she's a hard worker she doesn't mind to throw the occasional afternoon away to just laze around under the warm sun. She's caring and fairly intelligent, but can be very protective when it comes to her family.

Blin "Brytag" Alborse There wasn't much Blin could do at this height and by himself, but he did his best to keep any strain on his glider to a minimum. He looked the frame over but couldn't see any obvious signs where he heard the crack. Taking it very slowly he eased the glider upwards to slow his descent, no problems there. No way he could fly in a straight line so blin tried a gentle bank anti-clockwise and immediately the glider screamed at him in protest. He eased of and banked clockwise, at least he knew waht not to do now. Blin cast his eyes about to grab someone's attention, but there was little he could do except fly straight, bank clockwise or hope an island would be floating in his path before he landed. "The one time I fail to check my glider and this happens!" he sighed and was glad he got enough rest to hit the surface safely (if not literally.)

NAME: Kelari Halder ABSTRACT: Gregarious tattoo artist with a penchant for poetry and epics that moonlights as a library attendant. APPEARANCE: 6' feet tall and slender, blue tattoos of angular symbols and shapes on forehead and over and under her left eye. DETAILS: Strangers and townspeople know her as amiable and helpful, friends know her as clever and maybe a little crude. Loves to be in the company of others and enjoys meeting new people. Has been known to be quite talkative with customers at the tattoo parlor, if they'll let her.

Even though she was still a fair distance away from the group, Nikki couldn’t fail to hear a scream like that. She looked at each of the gliders before her in turn, surprised when it seemed to be Gaius having trouble. No way, the knight was the one that screamed? He sounded like a girl. She was /never/ going to let him forget this day, not ever. She couldn’t very well help him much, since he had armor and her wings wouldn’t support much more than just her, but she still angled closer for a better look. Her bit of schadenfreude vanished when she realized that he was carrying someone else. She didn’t know the woman, which meant any enjoyment from general misfortune was nonexistent. Nikki only rejoiced at the downfall of rivals -- or mayhem she herself caused. The latter could involve anyone. It looked like one of Gaius’s wings was coming free, she observed, which was bad news in a big way. They were a long way up. Losing half of a glider would be disastrous. Good thing she knew just who to enlist for help. A quick barrel roll and she was heading for Blin. He’d be able to take another rider easy! He had a glider designed for weight, because of his job, and he’d love a chance to play hero. Not the most maneuverable set of wings, but if he was just below, one of the others could probably help transfer the lady from one to the other. Maybe she could do it herself -- after all, she /was/ the most agile one in Heron. If she couldn’t work it, no one could! “Blin!” she shouted, cutting her speed so she fell even with him. “How’d you like to rescue a damsel in distress?” The panicked look on his face and another even girlier scream made her wince. “What’s wrong? ...Your wings have a problem too? What the heck, guys, am I the only one that bothered to check my glider today?” She shook her head slightly, trying to come up with another plan.

Name: Nikkolaira “Nikki” Wyatt Abstract: friendly prankster with a clever mind and an appetite for adventure (Ignore the cat attributes, but that's basically Nikki, in her original form. Modifications have been made.) Appearance: Nikki is a nineteen-year-old of about average height, with a solid build that evidences the fact that she’s always on the go. She keeps her blond hair cut at her jawline, and her light brown eyes are lively. She prefers to wear flattering clothes, generally showing as much tanned skin as she can get away with. She loves black clothing, and it’s always something that lets her move freely and won’t get in the way when she’s up to her usual activities. She generally wears a pair of woven bracelets with amber and green stones, and shoes are usually a pair of solid-soled sandals with straps so she doesn’t lose them. Details: Nikki grew up with her father after her parents separated. She knows and loves her mother as well, but the woman’s job as a trader often took her far from home. Her father, Jasper, runs a general shop in town. Nikki herself has very little patience for work and doesn’t have an official job, instead doing odd jobs for various people. Instead of a real occupation, she prefers to get into adventures -- or trouble. She’s been filling her time with both since she was old enough to walk. She tried to pay attention to lessons and such, and did alright, but daydreaming or just wandering off wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. She’s a nice person, if perhaps overly exuberant, though her tendency to tease and play pranks can certainly seem mean. But she wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, and is more or less harmless. She’s quick and agile, with an ability to keep her feet under her even in difficult situations that would put many cats to shame. She knows how to use a knife, and can hit a target from a couple yards away, but that’s only in controlled circumstances. If it came to an actual fight, Nikki is far more likely to keep hold of her knife and use whatever is to hand, often in unusual ways. She’s pretty creative when it comes to innovative solutions to problems, though not all of them would be wise to attempt. The girl has a tendency not to think things through that ends her up in trouble as often as not. She actively courts disaster, be it trying crazy stunts or stealing a bun from a food stall for the thrill of getting chased. She revels in danger, carefully balancing on the line between wild and downright crazy. Telling her not to do something is one of the best ways to get her to try; if you don’t want her to eavesdrop, you’re better off discussing something boring for a bit instead of lowering your voice. She’s a superb flier, mostly because she has to be with all the stunts she tries, and enjoys flying second only to exploring. Well. Maybe third if you count pranks? Something like that. Her approach to life is one of humor and gleeful optimism, diving headlong into every opportunity that comes her way. When she decides to do something, she commits herself fully and holds nothing back. Life is something to be enjoyed, and she plans to do that to the utmost. Other: ~ Glider that’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s fast and very maneuverable. She just can’t carry too much of anything besides herself. She’s damaged it with stunts more times than can be remembered, but while battered it’s held up pretty well. Her father decided that if his daughter couldn’t be prevented from risking her life trying crazy tricks, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t the fault of her wings should she get hurt. ~Lockpicks, because you never know what interesting things might need opening. She totally doesn’t use them on things that actually belong to people though. Usually. Most of the time. Well, okay, she does, but she puts everything back where she’s found it, so it’s okay, right? ~Her knife is a handy tool she’s never without. She has a second one in case the first one gets broken or lost somehow. ~A bag of assorted tricks, usually including a bit of food, a grappling hook on a length of light but sturdy rope, a small metal mirror, some stick-on bandages, a few safety pins, heavy-duty tape, some string, a permanent marker, and various things to assist in pranking. Relationships: Gaius Stronurr - Nikki admires and respects Gaius, and she /loves/ his stories. She’s probably run afoul of him a few times, stealing things and making him chase her down to get them back. Respecting him, it seems, is not enough to make her listen to him. (Would he realize she views it as a game? I mean, if he stopped chasing, she’d stop doing it with the intention of him chasing her down. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t aim for other people to chase her, though.) Forrest Everfree - she’s a bit jealous of his freedom, and imagines life without parental figures telling you what to do as fun. Not that she wants to lose her parents, but the lack of a supervising authority appeals to her. As a child she found him fascinating, and often followed him around, eventually convincing him to teach her how to pickpocket and other minor thief skills. Eli Wyn - friend and frequent co-conspirator. Nikki is impressed by what he knows about gliders, and has actually learned a bit about them from him. His quest for excitement fits well with her own, and as wild as they are separately, get the two together and it’s even more intense. He’s the one that introduced her to Rahna and Blin/Brytag. Rahna Altema - Eli introduced the two, and they get on fairly well. Nikki enjoys racing with her and some of the others. She’s also learned that playing on Rahna’s curiosity is a great way to get her to go along with things she might not otherwise. Blin "Brytag" Alborse - He’s quiet and he always looks half-asleep, but he’s not bad. And he has some of the craziest dreams! Palling around with Eli and Rahna means she’s friends with him too. Blank - Nikki’s not sure if she likes bothering him or just plain /likes/ him, but she’s certainly fond of the mysterious teen. Since his arrival two years ago, she has found him an irresistible target for teasing. He’s so cute when he blushes~ Despite his good-natured complaining, the two are pretty tight now, though initially she had to construct circumstances that made adventures unavoidable when he balked at less forceful attempts to bring him along. She’s nothing if not persistent. Tivo Sol - Nikki's encountered him a couple times, both in town and out near ruins, but they're not close or anything. Kelari Halder - she's friendly, and she tells interesting tales. What's not to like? Nikki is at least on friendly terms with her, though she's probably tried to use Kelari's equipment at least once. Without permission. She got her tattoo at Kelari's parlor, a small pair of stylized wings on her shoulder blades. Hurt like anything, but the result was worth it~ Song: Dangerous, by Within Temptation

Sera squinted her eyes as she heard Annoying-Girl, apparently called Nikki, call out the challenge to everybody still up on the cliff. Right after Nikki had dove down, Sera swirled her glider staff around. "Oh, it is so on!" With a stamp on the ground with the staff, the glider parts unfolded from it, big enough to carry somebody her size. Leisurely Sera just walked off the edge and simply dove, the air rushing past her giving her the thrill she loved about flying, or rather gliding. After a bit, she positioned herself so that the "wings" of her glider now started to break her fall and slow her down. That was the moment when she heard a scream. Quite a girly one at that, too. 'Crud... some girl needs help...' Quickly she manoeuvred her glider towards the sound. Imagine her surprise when she spotted Sleepy-Boy who apparently screamed his lungs out. It seemed like he was struggling with his glider to keep it following his will. What she only noticed now was, Nikki seemed to be flying around him as well, like a bee around a flower. Naturally Sera wanted to help, so she called out the the bumbling boy: "Ooooi! Are you alright? Everything alright with your glider? Can I help?"

NAME: Sera AGE: 18 SIZE: 5' ABSTRACT: A tomboyish and adventurous orphan girl, who loves fighting and finding artifacts. DETAIL: History: Sera's history is fairly short, since not a lot happened since her parents died when she was 8. So she had to fend for herself starting that age. Out of necessity Sera learned how to fight and to loot nearby ruins and other islands for valuables to sell. Personality: For the most time, Sera is quite the tomboy, not seeming to be interested in "girly" things, whatever they actually are, and loves to challenge people, even if it is just verbally. She can get get quite vocal and cheeky at that, too. But in the end, if you get to know her well enough, she might warm up to you enough to be nice. EQUIPMENT: -Her glider -Her "Combat Lance", aka, her trusty wooden stick -Bag for looted goodies

Gaius Stronurr In a panic above the surface With little time to react, and no help to be found in their allies, Gaius and Lee continued to lose altitude despite their forward momentum, dropping lower and lower until they were dangerously close to the surface. Finally, the dark shapes and silhouettes below them were starting to become discernible. They'd apparently found themselves no more than 400 meters above a large stretch of forest, where they would soon be stranded if none came to assist them. "No, no! Lee, brace yourself!" Gaius shouted, grasping both of the poles that latched to his glider as they neared the treetops. His iron boots and greaves struck several branches on the way down, sending wood and leaves crashing to the ground. When his glider was finally level with the treetops, Gaius was hopeful that they would be able to slow their descent and climb down to safety. But fate had less optimal plans in store for the sky people, planting a massive tree right in their path. Gaius veered left when their chances of landing unscathed narrowed to an infinitesimal degree, kicking off of the massive trunk with his right foot while his glider hung at a 45 degree angle, barely tearing a strip of bark from the tree with the tip of its right wing. "Hup-" they were safe... At least for a moment, until their path was flooded with a flurry of foliage and branches. The Gaius Glider tore through the overgrowth, barely keeping its shape while their descent was slowed to a relative crawl. Gaius shielded Lee as best he could with his left arm until they were through the branches and leaves, and several meters below the treetops. Unfortunately, their luck had run out when the glider's left wing was torn clean in half upon striking a tree trunk roughly 15 meters above ground level. The sudden jolt unhinged the second shoulder bar and jerked Gaius into a forward roll, which promptly sent Lee off of his back, and pulled his glider to pieces. Gaius followed shortly after, losing his helmet in the fumble, and landing hard on his left shoulder against a small clearing of grass. Gaius tumbled and turned until his body ground to a halt at the base of a nearby tree, where he turned onto his back and spread his limbs apart, astonished that he was still breathing. Several moments passed as Gaius lay silent with his cheek resting against the cold forest ground. He finally managed to turn his head upwards, licking his fuzzy lips as he thanked the gods above for the mercy they'd bestowed upon him. "Heh heh hoh-oh..."

NAME: Gaius Stronurr (Straw-Neeur) ~ABSTRACT~ A hardy soldier with a kind heart and a hard head ~APPEARANCE~ Thirty-One Years, 6'8, rarely shows his face. ~HISTORY~ Gaius has worked under the old king as one of his generals for many years, maintaining peace throughout his Liege's kingdom as every good knight should aspire to. He is known far and wide as the 'joyful juggernaut' for the stories of adventure and glory he would tell, despite them all being make-belief and cliche to no end. Regardless, all seem to appreciate his company, and he enjoys his position under the king with a humble demeanor, and no desire to seek true glory, fame, or wealth. He lives only to serve, and make the kingdom, who he'd long adopted as part of his family, happy and prosperous for the many years to come. He lives within the castle, away from his mother and father, who are simple woodsmen that live a quaint life on the kingdom's edge. Gaius rarely sees his parents, but on the off chance that he's free to visit the countryside, they have always welcomed him with open arms, and a batch of fresh cookies to sate his undeniable gluttony. When he heard the king's order to search for the fallen stars, Gaius was of course one of the volunteers to step forward. Although he knows that he'd be leaving behind quite a set of shoes to fill, he was confident that his abilities and experiences would be absolutely necessary in acquiring the fallen star for his people. ~PERSONALITY~ Gaius is rather sociable, and open to everyone he speaks with. In a group, he'd be the first to project his presence and start a conversation, one that he'd very much like to be the center of. Although he aspires to make his friends happy, and stray away from conflict whenever possible, Gaius is no pushover, and will not be made a fool of if he can help it. Sometimes his kindness does get the better of him though, making him look like an utterly gullible fool at the worst possible times. Gaius does not seek glory, but he is extremely confident in himself, and has a hard time recognizing his own flaws. It doesn't make him look like a pompous ass, but it often leaves him extremely disappointed with himself whenever he fails to accomplish whatever he sets out to do.

The air rushed past so quickly, stealing nearly every breath Lee tried to take. She didn't register the shout of her name, but rather, only the surface as it approached. It happened so quickly Lee wasn't able to react in anything but panic and anxiety. Her muscles were still tense and when the man tried to shield her, she had desperately tried to scramble away from him, her mind for some reason telling her that obstructing her view, covering them, would be a bad idea. Logically that made no sense, of course, eyes being the first organ that a person falling into a damn tree would want covered. There was a breath of something like relief when they slowed thanks to a tree, but it was short-lived, Lee's world plunged right back into mindless animalistic panic as they started falling. Another scream tore itself from her throat as she was let go. A branch hit her in the side hard, diverting her to the left. The woman felt something bite into her calf and slice along it before she hit the ground. For what seemed like an eternity, she was there on the ground, back arched and mouth partly open with her eyes wide. And then it started. The shaking. Lee smelled marigold and ginseng as her brain was filled with images. A replay of her own scream echoing loudly in her ears, shouting of invisible people and an incredible pain in her legs. Good god, the pain. Lee turned sloppily over onto her side, everything below her waist feeling numb. The woman's heart pounded in her ears with her entire body was trembling violently as she in vain, tried understand what was happening. Droplets of sweat slid down from her jaw to her collarbone as her fingers twisted the grass, the woman's breathing shallow. "I can't...I can't..." She couldn't get the words out, utterly horrified at what seemed to be going on. "I can't feel my legs!" She screamed, this time her voice cracking and hoarse. Lee felt tears form in her eyes as she tried to drag herself into an upright sitting position. Unfortunately, her arms shook too violently and gave out, her cheekbone connecting harshly with the ground. That didn't seem to bother her though as she propped herself up by her elbows, making a breathless attempt to just get away from the glider.

NAME: Lee Silvertongue ABSTRACT: A painfully creative young woman that has a tendency to get along better with inanimate objects and materials than people. APPEARANCE: Twenty-three years old, 5'8''. Pale with thick,short, wavy black hair that just touches her jawline. Dark eyes and a lean physique. Scars along her fingers and hands. DETAIL: History: Currently, she helps out at her Father's shop and maintains her own on the side. Lee works with precious stones and gems for the most part, polishing, cutting them and engraving them. She's very good with her hands, using her skills for a variety of jobs that range from decorating the hilts of weapons to cutting the smallest gems for jewelry. Her own shop has more to do with the art she creates with paints and her thread, trinkets she makes out of colored glass and sits out for people to see. She rarely goes outside but if she does she tends to either spend the time alone of with her two younger twin brothers and teaching them about their surroundings or collecting materials for her new project. Her father is almost always busy and her mother passed away of an illness shortly after the twins were born, so she takes on the maternal role in their home. Personality: Lee isn't against being with others or conversing with them but she is soft-spoken and worries too much about what people may think of her. She prefers to stay in her or her father's shop, singing to herself as she works through the day. While she's a hard worker she doesn't mind to throw the occasional afternoon away to just laze around under the warm sun. She's caring and fairly intelligent, but can be very protective when it comes to her family.

Blin "Brytag" Alborse His throat was sore, did he scream while he fell and was that help on the way? Not one but two people, crazy Nikki and who was that girl flying close and offering to help? "The wings strained, hard to turn this thing." Blin shouted out praying that whatever had cracked would hold together. then the girls swooped in each side of his glider and with them gripping his fixed wings with their legs. The stranger was above one wing and Nikki was upsisedown on the other. they both helped him steer the glider straight. It actually worked, it certainly seemed to Blin that the glider was more stable and with the ladies steering all he had to do was slow his descent. the wood wasn't protestiong as much and the three drifted lazily in a straight line. The ease of the descent made Blin imagine about constructing some kind of multi-person glider for two or three people. Until Nikki screamed at him to snap out of it. She started to talk him through how to roll when they landed and Blin suddenly realised two things. First the ground was coming up quite quickly and second he couldn't see anyone else close by. He had lost sight of Lee and Gaius when he took off instincively, and then had his own problems to sort out. "Put my left shoulder down so I roll diagonaly over my back?" he shouted at Nikki, it sort of made sense but he had only one chance to make it work. The girls kept him steady and managed to steer him to small glade, glad it was an open area Blin made ready to do his drop and roll for the first time. Nikki was the first to release from the wing, swiftly flying the right way up and then the girl who Blin couldn't recall seeing before. He couldn't help but stare at her as she strained to control the glider by herself, and then she too let go and Blin had seconds to slow as much as possible before his "landing". He opened his eyes, the sky was clear and bright and he vaugely remembered bending his kness as he landed before tumbling. he tried little movements and actually felt pretty fine, a few small aches was all. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The smoking form slowly walked throught he crater, behind him he dragged a two handed sword that left a furrow in the ground as he laboured through the burnt earth. His body was covered in ash and grime, bruises and cuts allover his muscled form. His eyes were dull, he couldn't remember who he was or what had happened. He casted his eyes to each side and all he saw was devastation about him. He walked on, kicking up small dust clouds with each step. He had no idea how long he walked or for how far, but eventually he came upon a small cliff cliff that went as far he could see in each direction. He had no choice, he started to climb, the sword made it hard work and after several attempts he gave up. he didn't understand why but he just couldn't rid himself of the weapon. It was about five minutes after he just sat down when something hit his head, he brushed it aside when it just came back and slapped him in the cheek. He grabbed it and looked aboce him, a rope and it passed out of view above him. Groaning, he stoood up, instinct made him secure the rope around him and tried to climb agin. This time he succeeded, using his sword to dig in and push and with whoever was pulling him upwards. At the top he collapsed to knees, breathless, before finally looking up to two woman resting after pulling his giant form up. The thought went across his mind of princesses as they both got up and moved to help him, but already he had fallen to the ground unconscious.

NAME: Kelari Halder ABSTRACT: Gregarious tattoo artist with a penchant for poetry and epics that moonlights as a library attendant. APPEARANCE: 6' feet tall and slender, blue tattoos of angular symbols and shapes on forehead and over and under her left eye. DETAILS: Strangers and townspeople know her as amiable and helpful, friends know her as clever and maybe a little crude. Loves to be in the company of others and enjoys meeting new people. Has been known to be quite talkative with customers at the tattoo parlor, if they'll let her.

Rahna Altema Rahna barked in laughter at Eli's response to Nikki as she flew off the edge. "No need to thank me~ I'll always be around to help you out, you know that!" She responded, patting his back in a familiar manner. Eli's words of concern were a little lost on Rahna. It was pretty amusing to her for him to be telling her to be safe. The person who should be saying that line was her, but she decided to let it slide. She was happy that he was worried about her. "Cold feet? Me? Ha!" She snorted as she picked up her belongings and her glider. "See you down there kiddo~!" She smirked playfully at him before jumping off the edge, following everyone else. As her glider unfolded, the rush of air pushed upward on the wings, slowing her descent by a significant amount. She leaned it forward, allowing the glider to dive downward. At this point, she donned her goggles to stop the rushing air from tearing her eyes out. Getting a clearer view, she saw some of the other gliders having trouble staying in flight. Her inner doctor stirred as she saw the Gaius plane crash into the trees not too far off. Should she go help them? Of course she should. But... She caught a glimpse of Blin having troubles with his glider too, his screams inaudible to her as the wind rushed passed her ears. However, she realized that Nikki and Sera had gone to try help him, so he should be fine.. She turned her gaze back to the general area of the Gaius plane crash site and decided to turn her glider in that direction. 'I hope they're not too hurt..' Getting down there was no easy task, since the pair had plummeted almost straight down, so Rahna had to tilt her glider to make slow circles as she spiraled down to them. When she got close enough to the trees, she realized there was no real open ground to land.. Well it was time to be daring now. She folded the wings of her glider as she approached the trees and pushed her feet onto the glider's main body plate, slamming into a thick tree. All hopes of surfing down the tree trunk like a badass were dashed as a giant branch got in the way, knocking her clean off the packed glider. Luckily for her there were plenty of branches and leaves to slow her fall, although it still hurt like anything. THUD. Her body hit the soft earth below. She lay there for a moment before slowly getting up. She was glad that she didn't land on her back, or else all her belongings would be ruined. However, landing any other way hurt just as much. "Ow ow ow.." She whined as she slowly got to her feet, dusting herself off roughly. She glanced around quickly to look for Gaius and the woman. Speaking of which, she had heard a scream earlier... And then She saw movement among the trees. It was someone. Probably the woman? What was her name again...? Lee? She quickly jogged over to the person, leaving her glider behind. It was Gaius, and Lee. "Are you alright?!" She called as she rushed over to Lee. She could see that Lee was injured, hopefully not too seriously, but she was trembling and it didn't look like she could use her legs. Most likely shock. "Please calm down, take some deep breaths.. Don't worry, I'm here to help you." Rahna said in a calm manner. She couldn't let the woman see that she was also a little panicked. If the doctor is panicking, then the patient will too. She thought that she'd take a look at Gaius once she was done helping Lee. The man was tough, he should be fine for the moment.. hopefully. "Where are you hurt? Can you move your legs?"

NAME: Rahna Altema Age: 18 Height: 5'7" ABSTRACT: A cheerful young girl with a natural curiosity APPEARANCE: DETAIL: Like many of the other citizens of Heron, Rahna is quite adept at using her glider to get from place to place. Often she’d play with the other kids her age, having glider races and doing tricks on them. Although she was never the winner of said races, she kept her spirits up by cheering for the people that did. She was never really one for competitions, she just wanted everyone to have fun. She enjoys learning about random things and about other people. Some say she’s nosy, others say she’s just naturally curious. The latter would be correct. However, she knows what she shouldn’t be too curious about based on how people talk about whatever it is. But what she truly excelled at learning about was Herbalism, much to the delight of her mother, who was also a Herbalist. More often than not, she was the first person people would approach about small injuries and minor ailments. Despite her cheerful nature, she can easily wind up in a situation where she doubts her abilities. Equipment: Hang-glider (Pretty basic, has bird wings painted on the wings of the glider.) Notebook and charcoal (Filled with random pieces of knowledge on various things. Rather unorganized (Unless it's her plant encyclopedias), yet detailed. Mostly herbalist notes.) Leather sling bag (containing various vials of salves and herbs... and the occasional fruit for a snack) Small harvesting knife