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 Posted: Mon Dec 17, 2012 4:26 pm
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Posted: Mon Dec 17, 2012 4:28 pm
The Good Guys GaiaName: ParadoxDefine
Name: Iselwyn of Merethyl, Iselwin Trueshot
Age: 85
Race/Ethnicity: High Elf
Appearance: Iselwyn
Class: Archer. In addition, she utilizes magic and intertwines it with her archery abilities.
Weapon Proficiency: Bow and arrow, throwing knives, and a dagger.
Armour Proficiency: Light armor, elven.
Equipment: Bow and arrows, crafted from the elderwood of the Merethyl Elvene (an elvene is a group of elves). One dagger and five throwing knives, crafted of runestone. Medicinal herbs with mortar and pestle.
Armour Proficiency: Light armor, elven.
Magic: Pyromancy, telepathy with animals (humans as well, but more limited), cryomancy, shape-shifting (form: fox)
Strengths: Very skilled in the healing arts. She is also adept at sneaking, camouflage, swimming, and enchanting arrows using her pyromancy and cryomancy abilities, resulting in flaming arrows and arrows that deal frost damage.
Weaknesses: Weakness to magic, weak in hand to hand combat. Iselwyn does not sleep, but enters a state of reverie. While in this state, she is aware of her surroundings, but unable to move. If cut off from communion with wildlife, she will weaken gradually. Despite her elven race, her magic is only strong enough for enchantments.
Bio:
Iselwyn Trueshot, as her name implies, is an archer. She comes from a long lineage of archers, but her skill has developed at a much faster rate than most others in her Elvene in the village of Merethyl. While most don't develop a mastery of archery until adulthood, Iselwyn has developed the mastery at early adolescence. However, her magic skills are lacking compared to most other elves. She is able to use it for enchantments, but little else. At 85, she is considered an adolescent elf. When the head of her village began to see visions of a skeleton-faced necromancer ushering in the end of the world, Iselwyn became nervous. As her leader grew weaker every day, Iselwyn's father gradually took over the duties as leader, being the appointed successor. The leader eventually died from the horror of witnessing the advent of the end of the world every night in her visions and dreams. Iselwyn's father was wise and heeded the past leader's advice. He sent the Elvene's best archer to Alzmar - Iselwyn. The past leader foretold of warriors of all races gathering in Alzmar to prevent the end of the world. Iselwyn was raised believing in the superiority of High Elves above all other races. Because of this, Iselwyn is unsure she wants to join the resistance because of having to associate with so many other races. Her loyalties are indecisive, but her choice must be made soon. Iselwyn is proud and conceited. She hates for her poor magic abilities to be brought up. She thinks her lack of magic skill makes her less of a High Elf. The last thing she desires is to be an impurity on the complexion of her race
Alignment: "What does alignment even mean? I guess I'm not evil, but I don't know which side I should join. I just don't want to associate with those lower elves."
Other: Sometimes Iselwyn will attempt complex magic abilities to prove her worth as a High Elf, but will fail miserably and sometimes hurt herself.
GaiaName: XxXSteamy_PunkXxX
Name: Hjorlam Renah, my friends call me Hurly, I'll explain later.
Age: 25
Race/Ethnicity: Dwarf
Appearance: Hjorlam
Class: I'm a General Fighter. I use whatever weapons, be it long or short ranged, that I have on my person.
Weapon Proficiency: Archery, Two-Handed, One-Handed, Thowable's.
Armour Proficiency: Heavy.
Equipment I always carry three weapons with me. My Greathammer, Long Sword, and Crossbow. As for provisions and equipment, I carry a good amount of ammo, craftable materials, bombs, food, water, ale, and a bedroll with me.
Magic: Animation. Explained later.
Special Abilities: With the right materials, I can build almost anything.
Strengths: Semi-Good Strength, Decent Shot, Self Control (Unless it's referring to ale or women, heheh...), and Friendliness.
Weaknesses: I'm a sucker for a sweet-talking girl, I am a bit too trusting at times, I hardly earn any coin anymore, I'm short, and if you make any remarks about it, I lose my temper.
Bio: Starting from the beginning, I was a rambunctious child. My friends and I were always brawling and 'adventuring'. At the age of eight, I began with swordfighting. Pretty boring, really. At twelve I discovered some blueprints for a crossbow and started training in archery. Semi-awe-inspiring. But, at thirteen, I was on a hunt outside of the cave when the wolf I was hunting attacked an old man. When I killed the beast, the man thanked me by giving me a spell tome. Being only thirteen, I grumbled because I thought it was just like any old book. But after reading it, I found it was the zenith of my childhood. I first tried out this Animation Spell on a small man I made out of bits and bobs of metal I had laying around. His movements were a bit stiff, but he moved all the same. At nineteen, I left my home. I traveled from town to town, selling little things I had made and searching for rumors of ruins or treasure. I've lived that lifestyle ever since. I've gotten quite the reputaion throughout the world now.
Alignment: Good.
Other: About the nick-name; I tend to drink, quite a lot, and one day I puked quite a bit. That's not the only reason, though. After being called that, I threw everything within arms reach at my friends.
GaiaName: Grimimpaler
Name: Thuk Tha'll'ka, Di'rk-Me'njin, or "Little Sword"
Age: 27
Race/Ethnicity: Green-Blood Orc
Appearance: Masked Assassin
Class: Rouge-Assassin
Weapon Proficiency: Short swords, bow, crossbow, throwing knives, knives, hand-to-hand, and small maces
Armour Proficiency: Best in light leather armour
Equipment A crossbow, three short swords, several throwing knives, 2 dirks, and a hunting knife. As for provisions, a small sack of the common currency and a fire starter.
Magic: Not a fan.
Special Abilities: None
Strengths: Very agile, abnormally fast, keen senses minus eye sight, has a body trained to operate for days with out water or food in the harshest conditions, trained by the greatest assassins known to orcs.
Weaknesses: Weak to all magic, weaker than most orcs, Can't ride Horse back, poor sense of direction, limited field of view thanks to the mask.
Bio: Thuk was born of death, literally born from the womb of a corpse. His mother was stabbed in the back by a group of bandits, killing her as she went into labour. The bandits were killed by a member of a highly prestigious rouge band called the Tha'll'ka, a gathering of assassins who strike for the common good. Thuk's survival was taken as an omen of purpose and necessity. The Tha'll'ka assassin brought Thuk to the clan when he was given the name Thuk, which means "survivor" in a nearly dead dialect of orcish. When Thuk reached his fifth raining season he went into training to join the order. During his tenth raining season, Thuk assassinated his first corrupt warlord, via a long steam crossbow. After his final growth spurt Thuk was finally inducted as a member of the Tha'll'ka. A mask of silver and steel was crafted for him and soldered to his face, as the custom of the assassin clan. As a full fledged member of the Tha'll'ka, Thuk developed his skills to a fine point, focussed on the physical rather than the magical, and has been the master mind behind hundreds of assassinations and one civil war. When the prophecy of the "Dead Waker" reached the order, many of the clan wished to be sent and yet they all recognized the need for them to stay and keep the governments in balance with fear. After much deliberation, the Elders of the can chose Thuk and three others to go. As part of the plan, the four young assassins split and Thuk has not seen them sense.
Alignment For the every man, Good.
Other: Don't touch the mask. He'll eat your hand.
GaiaName: Kira_kinen
Name: Sol'Skara Husk
Age: Twenty-five
Race/Ethnicity: Dho'na'nir, Orc
Appearance: Skar
Class: Skar is stuck somewhere's between a scrapper, with a dash of fire mage.
Weapon Proficiency: Hand-to-hand combat is by far her best fighting style, but she's fond of short, one-handed blades paired with a custom designed vambrace
Armour Proficiency: Her thick, dragon-like scales are the only armor she needs. It's comparable to medium grade.
Equipment Her Vambrace, a curved sword similar to a saber, and two short spears.
Magic: Basic fire manipulation and control.
Special Abilities: She can't create fire through magic, but she comes equipped with the ability to breath short spurts of flame. Her scales are thick and though not as strong as a true dragons, they definitely soften a blow.
Strengths: Skar can climb nearly anything, jump remarkably high, and glide for short distances; she also has a heightened sense of smell, sight, and hearing as well as increased strength.
Weaknesses: Water hampers her ability to breath fire, and she can't use her magic in rain; Dragonsbane (a herb that grows in certain places and makes dragons ill) is also very effective against her; Sudden flashes of bright light, piercing loud sounds, and strong offensive smells can disorientate her and make her ill; she has little education which mean she doesn't have a very good understanding on math, and she definitely doesn't know how to read or write; and she has an allergy to silver.
Bio: Skar was born in one of the few jungles that can be found in Tal'na, and spent the first few years of her life with her kind in the strange and often deadly environment. Life was good and simple until the Dho'na'nir of the Rattle-Scale clan appeared to have angered the very Gods themselves. A sudden and violent storm swept through the jungle, uprooting massive trees and flooding rivers; the Rattle-Scale's settlement was washed away and with it many of its people. Most did not survive, and Skar herself was swept off only to be stranded miles away from home. Skar attempted to return home, but by the time she made it there, her people had moved on, leaving nothing but empty and half destroyed shacks to be over-grown by the wilderness.
So Skar became a traveler of sorts; she may have preferred a different life, but she wasn't given much choice in the matter. Uneducated, young, and unfortunately not the most charming of people, she had little going for her, but she got by through whatever means she could. Theft and such was not particularly her cup of tea, and as she aged and matured, she found she had something far more useful to the other Orcs then slyness; she was a true fighter. She carved out a place for herself in the Bantuu Empire as a soldier of fortune. Only when the prophecy came to her attention did she decide it was time to change her lot in life once more; she deserted, and decided to seek her fame by being part of the adventure to take down the Necromancer... Surely the survivors would receive a fine reward for their work...
Alignment: Herself; if she can benefit from a situation she'll probably stick her nose into it.
Other: Animals don't like Skar and tend to react in one of two ways when she's near; flee or attack. Of course, they have to catch wind of her first.
GaiaName: Kira_kinen
Name: Lark Gannet
Age: Twenty-two
Race/Ethnicity: Human, native of Rifthaze
Appearance: Lark
Class: Healer and Herbalist
Weapon Proficiency: None, she has no skill with weapons.
Armour Proficiency: If she has too wear armor, a light fur and hide armor is best.
Equipment A wide variety of carefully labeled and packaged herbs, fungi, vegetation, and other miscellaneous items needed for her craft; a white and gray streaked mortar and pestle; needles and thread; two small knives meant for her work (one to be used on people, another on her resources); bandages; a water skin; a small tin cup; one spoon; and an assortment of pins.
Magic: As a healer, Lark can mend flesh, knit bone, and restore muscle with simple skin-to-skin contact and a little water. Healing is not an easy job, and often leaves herself and her patients hungrier then usual for a day or so afterwards as well as in need of rest. She cannot use her powers to heal illness or purge infections but she can lace her herbal remedies with magic that increases the effectiveness of her concoctions.
Special Abilities: Being a human, she has no racial benefits.
Strengths: A vast knowledge on the use of plants and other natural resources; a strong stomach; a good eye for detail; steady hands; and good people skills.
Weaknesses: Extreme weather conditions (can't see through fog or thick rain, susceptible to cold or hot weather, etc); her lack of ability to properly defend herself; no special perks to shield or protect against any form of magic; a soft spot for children, the elderly, or those who can't care for themselves (animals are often included); and she can not use her magic to heal herself.
Bio: Lark didn't always live in the capitol city of Silveredge; raised in the far Northern Village of Haven, located at the base of the mountains in Rifthaze, Lark had a true country upbringing. Her parents owned a decent slice of land on the southern outskirts of Haven, and made their living on farming. They raised sheep mostly, making a living off of selling their wool, and raised a fair amount of poultry including chickens and turkeys. There were a few other animals on the farm, though they were kept for the family only, as well as small garden that produced food during the warmer months of summer.
It was a good life and Lark was raised as any other child, doing chores for her parents and getting into trouble. Lark was relatively young when she showed an interest in healing, and though no one knew of her magic at that point, the Wise Woman of the village decided to take her under her wing... So Lark spent most of her free time from the age of eight learning with the weathered old woman. She was a quick study, and the people started to notice that when she made poultices and medicine, they seemed to be effective - sometimes better then the ones her mentor was making. This made many people suspect there was more to Lark then met the eye, but there was no way to prove it...
Until a traveling priest from the temple of Haith, showed up in town. He tested the then twelve year old for magic, and when she came back positive, he convinced her parents to let her go back with him to Nazaret where the main Temple was located.
Years later, Lark graduated as a full healer and opened her own practice putting to use the herbalist knowledge she had acquired all those years ago, and pairing it with her magic.
Alignment: Good, of course.
Other: Lark is never seen without the soft feather cape she was given by her parents after leaving Haven to become a healer. She tends to be very particular about the garment, and has been known to be a bit reckless in making sure it stays in her possession.
GaiaName: KamigearX
Name:Kodachi Umemaru
Age: Thirty Seven
Race/Ethnicity: Merrow Elf
Class: Skirmisher- A skirmisher is a lightly armored fast moving combatants who must always stay on the move in order to be effective. They specialize in quick close quarter combat or fast moving target shots with their ranged weapons. The more drawn out the battle is, the harder a Skirmisher has to do their job and the more difficult it becomes. They can use minor magicks and cantrips to aid them in their combat.
Weapon Proficiency: Scimitar, Shortbow, Crossbow, Sling, Shortsword
Armour Proficiency: Tanned Leather Armor
Equipment Scimitar, Shortbow, Fifty Arrows and a Quiver, Net, Bedroll, Tanned Armor and Fur Cloak
Magic: Hasten- Makes movement and Actions twice as fast for a short amount of time. Teleport Shot- Fires an illusionary arrow, after a short distance the shooter is teleported to the arrow, can happen anywhere in travel time at the caster's choice.
Special Abilities: Burning Arrow Fan- Fires off multiple arrows of up to seven arrows at once, in a cone like shape, arrows are lit aflame by the friction in the air. When they hit a surface the arrows explode, causing shrapnel, which may hurt nearby enemies.
Strengths: Quick Encounters, Speech, Scouting, Stalking prey, Quick Reflexes
Weaknesses: Prolonged Battle, Romantic Encounters, Stand-still Combat, Prolonged Activities, Dealing with the Loss of his Loved One
Bio: The Merrow Elves, simple living nomadic elves of sorts with no structured society. These were the people Kodachi was born into. Since day one of his life he was trained to be a hunter, a forager, a guardian. As long as he could remember his bow was his only true companion, animals unneeded and others unwanted for the simple reason that when hunting alone was the most quiet. Kodachi was trained to be all of the things his tribe needed, quickly becoming and learning all things with great speed, unknown to many elves even for how intelligent they were. By the age of ten he had learned his peoples history and memorized every scripture that was with them. The one thing he could not excel in however, was magic. Magic was the most difficult tale of Kodachi's childhood. having excelled with everything from martial skill to menial sewing tasks, magic was his hardest subject. Unlike his peers Kodachi held an inhibitor within himself that reduced his magical qualifications. This worried many of the elders of the Merrow tribe he lived inside. For when an elf was born without magical abilities it was a sign in their tribe. A sign of foreboding and oncoming danger in the future of their adulthood. Nevertheless Kodachi trained everyday in his life to master at least one spell so he could say he knew some magic.
For many years he struggled to learn just one spell. That was until one of the scouts finally took Kodachi away. He was one of the hidden protectors of their tribe, always ahead of the rest to warn for danger. The female elf was young, almost the same age as he was if not three or four years older. He was given new training now that he had left the tribe behind to act as a vanguard for danger. He was taught how to pace himself, how to hunt with even better efficiency, how to gather while on the move, and many more things. The female elf was impressed at his speed and soon taught him the arts of becoming a skirmisher. These tests and feats of skill Kodachi passed with excellency, except for one subject, magic. The female elf hadn't told Kodachi her name until the moment he had difficulty learning the magical ways of the Skirmisher. She too was named Kodachi, though their last names were different. It was as if fate had twisted the world strangely to make sure that they were destined to meet. She taught Kodachi that their names were their difficulty, not some disease that they were born with. Their names gave their magical powers and Kodachi was an ancient term for a spell that silenced its user.
To get past this was simple, do not say your name and you will be able to cast spells. For one year Kodachi did not utter a word as they continued to travel together in silence. After that year of silence, Kodachi was able to speak once more, the ritual then complete. However during his year of silence, Kodachi had matured into a fine young male elf and as such his desires were troubling him. His female companion was the only one he had ever spent time with, however he never did know how to confront one due to his lack of experience in romantic speech. Awkwardly he confronted the female elf and just as awkwardly he was turned down for marriage. When he asked why, the answer hurt. The answer was a simple, "We are not equals so I will not lay my eyes upon you as a lover, until such a time you are my apprentice." This threw Kodachi into a rage.
The emotions of anger and frustration as well as sorrow and sadness welled and stirred within him for a month. His companion purposely turned him down he thought as he began to seclude himself even from his unrequited love. Finally Kodachi gave into the sorrow and anger and was driven temporarily mad. He challenged his crush to a duel and demanded it was seen in front of the village elders. His partner agreed and they quickly traveled back to the camp. Two more were sent out to vanguard for the day and the match commenced quickly so that they may return to their post. The two Kodachi's faced each other silent, the only thing in hand was melee weapons, something difficult for a skirmisher to use in prolonged combat. The two rushed forward and with a clang of metal clashed before parted, their backs facing each other. What happened next is still unclear to Kodachi. All he knows is that he heard the words. "I love you", the sound of a wound cutting open and a body falling, though not his own. Subconsciously he knows he killed his first love but the sorrow and shock makes him deny the facts, saying that he instead knocked her unconscious and fled in shame of not asking her hand in ceremonious love when she awoke.
Alignment Good
Other: Kodachi wavers between his emotions easily and is caught up in the moment. It is hard for him to stay true to his beliefs due to his guilt and sorrowful memories. He flees his past life as much as he can and tries not to share it with others, not wishing to relive his memories again.
GaiaName:KamiGearX
Name: Varduk Highpen
Age: 19
Race/Ethnicity: Human, Alzmar
Class: Vanguard- The protectors of urban cities and the forward knights of the battlefield, these specially trained units of Alzmar are tougher than most knights. Their ability to sprint in their armor is unmatched by any other kingdoms special guard and the advanced defensive tactics that are displayed among these few chosen are well known throughout the many kingdom of the human lands. The problem with wearing such heavy armor and weighted equipment is that they are hindered in agility and can be easily outmaneuvered if faced with multiple enemies.
Weapon Proficiency: Lance, Longsword, Hammer, Longbow, Shortbow, Sling, Spear, Javelin, Shortsword, Greatsword, Greataxe, Axe
Armour Proficiency: Full-Plate Mail, Tower-Shield, Kite Shield, Buckler
Equipment Bedroll, Military Rations three days worth for one man, Full Plate Armour, Longsword, Tower Shield, Lance, Spear, Sling, Axe
Special Abilities: As a Vanguard, Varduk has learned a special charge technique called "Lancing Tide". After a few feet of running in a straight line, it summons more spectral lances. These multiply until he hits an opponent or stops charging. Drains a lot of endurance since the weight of the spectral lances is put onto his body until they vanish. (Theoretically He could kill himself by being crushed under the weight of the lances, however he has been trained to limit himself to five lances. The most ever carried that has been written down is thirteen at once).
Strengths: Endurance, Fighting Against Multiple Foes, Willpower, and Strength
Weaknesses: Nimble Foes, Word Games, Reading, Writing, Controlling Whatever is Inside of Him, Hearing Words of His Undoing, Losing Honor for not returning to his king
Bio: Varduk is the being of military training without the discipline. He carries the strength and endurance of two men at least and is a master of weaponry. At the age of five he was able to use a longsword his size and swing it around like a trained soldier without prior knowledge of what the weapon was. Having thought been born as a divine messenger for the God of War, Hextor, he was immediately put into military training with nobles even though his family was of common birth. Years went by and soon he became the Vanguard of Vanguards, the inspiration of his noble peers. However within the ranks there were some whom were jealous of this prodigy.
Late one night during their sleep a hired assassin came into the trainee's barracks. The assassin slunk in silently and soon found Varduk sleeping soundly. The assassin drew his dagger and tried to stab Varduk dead where he laid but Varduk awoke and moved out of instinct, avoid the knife by a hairs length, the knife stabbing and ripping open soft cotton instead. A snap of a bone resounded through the barracks and a cry, awaking the other Vanguard trainee's. What they saw was straight out of a nightmare, a dark side to Varduk appeared, all of the rage and hatred of battle made him into something else, something scarier than what could've been reality. He stood behind a mangled body, His arm changed into a pulsating glowing red blade, the assassin's body held up high and sliding down his arm. This was Hextor's dark side of war embodied into man. Th event of his transformation never left the barracks that night as actual Vanguard members came marching in to see the carnage. The one whom hired the assassin was never found out.
A few more years passed and his graduation ceremony happened. Varduk was now a Vanguard, however rumor was spreading of an evil necromancer in a village. for his first assignment he was sent to check on the village with a squadron, he was the lead. On horseback they road out of the city gates, common folk stepping out of their way quickly as they galloped into the wilderness towards the village. What they found was a horrible sight. Undead roamed the village freely and in the center a single thing stood. It brought fear into everyone in his squadron, but Varduk cried out for a charge, a foolish mistake. The holy Vanguards charged forward with lances down and many undead fell to their charge, being trampled or sliced through, however once their assault reached the middle of the village a bloody red mess appeared. Vanguard and horse laid askew in the village square, dead and torn apart, entrails still falling from the sky. Varduk and his horse still stood and they stopped their charge and eyed the thing, the horse neighing to flee. The thing spoke to him and what he heard almost drove him mad as he fled.
Now Varduk simply wanders to find his purpose, a broken Vanguard, incapable of fighting the tide of undead. However he has heard by word of mouth on the roads that perhaps not is all lost. With new hope he plans to carry out his given mission, to thwart the evil necromancer behind this plot and then to return a hero
Alignment Good
Other: Carries a Wilted Flower that a small girl gave him when he charged into battle against the undead. No special purpose as of yet.
GaiaName: sakura-schan
Name: Urzula Gulfim, Urza the Destroyer
Age: 27
Race/Ethnicity: Dho'na'nir
Class: Warrior, Urza fights with brute strength, only sometimes does she rely on her Dragon blood and grow claws and breathe fire.
Weapon Proficiency: Urza can hold any type of weapon and make it deadly, from a small knife to a crossbow, but she much rather use her own Axe that she forged herself
Armour Proficiency: Because of her dragon blood, Urza's skin is harder than all the races and doesn't really need much armor...just enough to cover the essentials, chest armor, skirt armor, a shielf and boots...the girl loves her boots
Equipment Urza carries a shield, an axe, a couple of daggers in her boots both dipped in poison, and a small hunting bow with arrows. She keeps that on the inside of her shield
Magic: Cannot wield magic
Special Abilities: She can only breathe fire and grow claws on her hands and feet.
Strengths: Because Urza relies on her own strength, that is all she uses. She can wield pretty much any weapon. Her dragon blood allows her to see better at night.
Weaknesses: Magic users, if done right can defeat Urza easily. She has fought magic before but only when she has had the advantage of surprise on them. otherwise she's toast.
Bio: Urzula was born in the deserts of Tul'na. Both her mother and father were blacksmiths for the general orc population. As it turns out her parents were one of the few Dho'na'nir Orcs to have left the village in the jungles to help out lesser orcs with weaponry and armor. They were pretty rich in the desert and Urza always saw them helping others. During her teen years, Urza went into a state of rebellion and wanted to be like the Common Orc. She went as far as searching for a dragon to kill. When she killed that dragon, she became famous throughout the Orc population as Urza the Destroyer. Liking the attention, Urza went out on mini adventures of her own, killing huge monsters and trolls for an amazing reputation.
When she turned 18 however, her parents hunted her down and forced her back to their own village among the other Dho'na'nir. There she recieved the worst beating of her life, a first true disciplinary action her parents ever took with her. For 5 years, she was forced to come and go at the Dho'na'nir's pleasure and taught their ways.
She did actually learn much. Like how wrong it was for her to go and kill a dragon, that was just like a sin! Her parents, on their deathbeds, reiterated the importance of helping fellow orcs and the circle of life. It wasn't until they actually died that Urza understood the real message from them. That in order to be helped you first must help out.
So when the Necromancer appeared, Urza decided to go on a journy to stop the legion and their filthy ghouls.
Alignment Certainly NOT the necromancer
Other: Urza is not really a tall orc, she is only 5'8
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Posted: Mon Dec 17, 2012 4:29 pm
The Necromancer And His Allies.
GaiaName: Grimimpaler
Name:Murock Bloodsin, The Necromancer, The Dead Caller, Dead Waker
Age: 200
Race/Ethnicity: Undead Human
Appearance: Boo
Class: Deadite Necromancer. A rare type of mage that specializes in necromancy enough to use the ultimate in the dark art, self sacrifice and resurrection.
Weapon Proficiency: Scythes and short swords.
Armour Proficiency: Arcane robes
Equipment His scythe, his Mana funnel (the sand timer), a large bag filled with herbs and reagents he needs, and most importantly, the Necronomicon Ex Mortis.
Magic: Necromancy, summoning magic, pyromancy, geomancy, cryomancy, Crystal Ball magic, and limited Teleportation magic.
Special Abilities: He can reattach his limbs with thread and it works just fine.
Strengths: Magik, gathering, storing, and dispersing large quantities of mana, tactics, "immortal," doesn't need to eat, sleep, nor breathe.
Weaknesses: Can't swim, can't learn new magic, highly paranoid, weak in a physical fight, and his body is rotting.
Bio: Murock's early years are unknown. When he was 58 he was kicked out of the Osor Academy for Arcane Arts on suspicion on being a necromancer, on of the few forbidden magik types. Nearly 30 students then quit and followed Murock into Gallow's End, a dark forest wrought with undead beasts. There the Bloodsin cult began and grew. Those 30 students were thought necromancy and were sent to find the pages of the Necronomicon Ex Mortis, the first and nearly complete collection of Necromancy. With the guidence of the book Murock became the strongest necromancer the world had ever seen, and at the age of 72, he preformed the Candarian Deadite Rite. He sacrificed himself and a 100 children to become an undead being, fully self aware with personality intact. As his students reached an appropriate level of knowledge, he turned each of them into a Deadite Necromancer and then used their immortal bodies to experiment. He added tot he pages of the Necronomicon, seeking to complete it's knowledge. Before he was 190 he had learned theorised a spell to change all of existence. All he needed to do was sacrifice the world and 20 Deadite Necromancers. He had one part more than down. He then began raising legions of undead beasts, skull knights, zombie spear men, ghoul assassins, undead troll knights, and every undead abomination he could. He created "Death's Sands" a sand timer to tap directly into the Manava's core and through it, he could control millions of the undead. He just needed bodies. With that, his cult attacked, mercilessness killing until the order to leave someone alive was given. In 9 years, Murock Bloodsin had bolstered his forces enough to take over a kingdom. So here he sits on his throne, a new throne made of skulls, thorns, and blood.
Alignment "I suppose I'm the bad guy, right?"
Other: Needs to regularly sacrifice himself and another person to bring his body back from the bring of completely useless.
GaiaName: Grimimpaler
Name: Deagon The Brutal
Age: 221
Race/Ethnicity:Half Gormmer half Troll
Appearance: Deagon
Class:Death-Knight
Weapon Proficiency: Spears, Lances, Swords, Axes, Maces, knuckle based weapons, and over all hand-to-hand combat.
Armour Proficiency: Heavy plate mail
Equipment Two long swords, a lance, and several spears.
Magic: Tailknir
Special Abilities: Has been granted control over a battalion of The Necromancer's Undead.
Strengths: Raw physical strength, and very proficient in the troll magic called Tailknir, or battle roars.
Weaknesses: Not a strong strategist, has very little intelligence, not agile, stubborn to a fault, paranoid of everyone except the Necromancer, and the delicate life that is his lover.
Bio: Deagon was the product of unwanted union between a troll and Gormmer woman. Deagon despised his father and the tribe that shunned him for being born. Deagon grew up fighting anything one whom insulted him, which was nearly everyone, thanks to the smaller body of the Gormmer race and the raw strength of the troll kind he inherited, Deagon often brutalized his opponents, leaving them broken and on the verge of death, if not ripped to shreds. Over a century of hatred, Deagon learned how to kill with many weapons, preferring to be up close as he fought, rather than use ranged weapons or magic. When he was nearly 120 years of age, Deagon met Daraline, a product of the same kind of union as Deagon was. Deagon, for the first time felt empathy and affection for someone other than himself. Deagon and Daraline fell madly in love and ran off together. As they sought solitude with each other, Deagon became a mercenary and learned the troll magic called Tailknir, a magic where shouting magic imbued words that affect the world, like "Yolk Na Nir" which sends out a torrent of fire.
Daraline and Deagon lived in relative peace for many years until a group of Crusaders from Osor invaded, and Daraline was killed. Deagon killed all of the crusaders by himself and has wandered the world in rage and despair, all the while, carrying the ashes of Daraline. While in Alzmar, Deagon met Murock Bloodsin. Murick used the ashes of Daraline to bring Daraline back, how ever she had been dead for so long and remained only as ashes, that Murock, despite being the most powerful necromancer to have existed yet, could only hold her there for a few days. Deagon has pledged loyalty to Murock, for the sake of Murock's power growing to where he can bring Daraline back to life for good.
Alignment The Necromancer must win.
Other: Has a strong hatred of all in the world with the sole exceptions being his lover and the Necromancer.
GaiaName:Grimimpaler
Name: Sverrir the Dragon Eater, Dragon Archer, Dragon Slayer.
Age: Looks 30, but really he is nearly 300
Race/Ethnicity: Human, Nordsman.
Appearance: Sniper
Class: Dragon Archer
Weapon Proficiency: Bows, crossbows, throwing knives, throwing axes, and axes. Arguably, one handed swords.
Armour Proficiency: Studded Leather or none.
Equipment Studded leather under his cloak, a long bow, as tall as he is, a short bow, 20 throwing knives, 6 throwing axes, two hatchets, two massive quivers, filled to the brim with all kinds of arrows, short shaft and long shaft, all of which has been crafted out of the bodies of dragons. Carries a large, blacked vile, a blanket, rope, 6 pounds of dragon meat, a large dragon leather sack filled with dragon blood, a dragon horn formed into call, and a drinking horn made from dragon horn and teeth.
Magic: None
Special Abilities: Sverrir is called the Dragon eater for a reason. Having eaten his 90th dragon, he has gained immortality, forever the same age, and healing at speeds beyond any mortal. He also has gained a keen ability to sense near by dragons, and seems to be able to understand their ways of communicating. Has been granted command over a battalion of the Necromancer's armies.
Strengths: Extreme long range combat, archery that has never been beat, horse riding, full immortality, and he no longer needs sleep.
Weaknesses: Close range combat, far-sighted, unable to eat anything but dragon meat, alcohol, unable to turn down any and all challenges in archery, easily distracted, can never ignore the presence of a dragon, and has very brittle bones from all the times they were broken.
Bio: Sverrir was born under the star of Nakronir, the Dragon star, and raised by the two greatest archers on the north most island off of Osor. Sverrir learned from an early age how to hunt use a bow, and took to it like a fish to water. Before his eleventh winter he was the best shot on the island and had grown bored of hunting the largest bears and entire wolf packs in single outings. Yet he could not leave, not until he reached his sixteenth winter. During his fourteenth winter, he set out with a pirating ship and raided a village, taking out nearly all of the guards with his bow before the ship was close enough for the rest of the crew to attack. The thrill of hunting warriors grew in his heart and consumed his life until twentieth winter. He had "hunted" elvish warriors, dwarven warriors, human warriors, and even orcs and the giants, but he was bored. Until he had laid eyes on his first Dragon. It took 78 arrows for the beast to injured enough to land. With his last two arrow, Sverrir blinded the beast, and sleek arrow directly to both eyes at the same time. He charged it, slinging every throwing knife and axe he had and slashing it's throat open with his hatchet. He then rested in a cave it had created while it thrashed about. Sverrir bathed in it's blood, formed many bows, and arrow heads from it's bones, created many miles of leather and bow strings from it's hide, and ate from it's flesh for many months. Nearly a year later the dragon's body had been used up and Sverrir had sold off the dragon's hide to Nordsmen who wished for better leather armour. Sevrrir dedicated his life to hunting dragons, his hunger for the flesh grew intense with each dragon he ate, his muscles grew tougher and his stomach refused anything but the most powerful beast on the planet. When Sverrir had reached his 30th winter, he had consumed his 90th dragon, and ceased to age. He did not notice until word of his parents dying of old age had reached him. He returned to his homeland, to find all of his old friends and allies old and yet he was still young. Svrrir realised almost immediately that he was no longer truly a human, but something more.
Sverrir continued his dragon hunting, tracking down and slaying two or three of the elusive powerful beings every year. He grew so keen on the hunt of the dragons and other beings at such long ranges that he could pick out the vitals of every breed of the dragons from miles away, and pierce it with his arrows, fletched entirely from dragon carcases. While tracking a sky dragon through the forest in Alzmar, Sverrir met Murock Bloodsin, who sensed the old age in Sverrir. Murock, unable to convince the archer to give up the secret of his immortality set a legion of undead after the man. Sverrir ran, picking off the legion, using twigs he picked up as arrows so as to save his real arrows for the dragon. Before Murock's eyes, Sverrir killed the dragon he sought in the mist of combat, nearly two miles away, an arrow shot through the dragon's throat and it fell tot he ground and bleed to death. Murcok applauded the archer and attacked him himself. Knowing that he could not keep up with the Necromancer in close combat with the swarming undead at his back, he fled, on instinct he ran to his latest prey. Once they had reached it, Murock raised the dragon, creating the first undead dragon in history. Sverrir was beyond himself in, to hunt his greatest prey, twice? It took every arrow he had made from dragon bone in each of the dragon's vitals to slay it a second time. He ended the fight by bowing to Murock and thanked him by telling him how he ate the dragons and used their blood as both drink and bath water. Murock welcomed the archer into his armies as the first living general whom would not be transformed into a deadite necromancer. Thanks to Sevrrir, Murock now has nearly 100 undead dragons under his command.
Alignment The Necromancer
Other: Theme song: Evening Star by Tyr
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Posted: Sun Dec 23, 2012 10:17 pm
Neutral Parties
GaiaName: SsSoulSsS
Name: Galen FireStoker - Officially known as Syndicate
Age: 23
Race/Ethnicity: Albino Drow
Appearance: 
Class: Assassin, Slight magik base but mostly up close quick fighting strikes.
Weapon Proficiency: Daggers, Throwing projectiles, Hand to hand Combat, Crossbows,
Armour Proficiency: Blackened leather covers his cloth clothing, Iron bracers on both forearms to block attacks.
Equipment One elven Dagger, Water flask, Throwing knives, Bread and salted meats, Small compactable telescope,
Magic:
Electrocution - Galen may harness his magik to strike foe's with lightning, From either his palms or feet. This ability requires contact with the victim.
Cloak - Become Invisible for a short amount of time.
Special Abilities:
Focus - When fighting one on one, Enemies movements are slowed and slightly easier to avoid or block.
Stride - When running, May walk on water.
Strengths: Practically disappears in the dark - Stealth, One on one combat, Dead silent even when not attempting to be, Much faster then many of the other races, Tactically Adept at all times, Physically strong,
Weaknesses: Sunlight Blinds him, Unable to fight multiple foe's effectively, magik doesn't work during the day, Incapable of killing women, Is socially awkward,
Bio: Born into a mercenary clan, Galen was taught at an early age how to fight and stay alive in combat. Over the years he distinguished himself by becoming a silent killer, And slowly becoming the best of the best. As the years went on he learned war was good for business, And now searches for meaningful jobs between wartimes.
Alignment Neutral, "Cash first, Then tell me the target"
Other: Has a significant fetish for strawberries.
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